Could Just Ask Me


colette_icon.gif grace_icon.gif kaylee2_icon.gif

Scene Title Could Just Ask Me
Synopsis Colette drags Kaylee to St. Johns to 'talk' to the man in charge of security about some tapes. Grace catches them on the way and tells them they could simply ask her for help.
Date December 23, 2009

Cathedral of St. John the Divine

The largest Gothic cathedral in the world, the Cathedral of St. John the Divine remains partially unfinished to this day, despite its construction having begun in 1892 - true to form for buildings of its type. Nonetheless, it is a grand and imposing sight; possessing the characteristic grand arches, pointed spires, and beautiful stained glass windows, including a large and striking Rose window. Where the walls aren't covered with old and meticulously preserved tapestries, they are often ornamented.

Guided tours are offered six days out of the week. Services are open to all. Since the bomb, the main nave is open at all but the latest hours, though the smaller subject-specific chapels close in the evening. The cathedral is also a site for major workshops, speakers, and musical events - most especially the free New Year's Eve concert, which has been held without fail each year since the bomb.

St. John's has long been a center for public outreach and civic service events, but since the bomb, those have become an even greater part of its daily affairs. Services include a men's shelter, a twice-weekly soup kitchen, walk-in counseling, and other programs besides. These are open to everyone - non-Evolved, unregistered Evolved, registered Evolved… the philosophy is that they're all children of God, and that's what matters.

"So once we find that Marcus guy, all I want you to do is like… do that Jedi mind-trick thing on him, you— can do that right?"

Winding down the double-wide stairwell that leads to the basement shelter of the Cathedral of St.John, it's clear that renovation is a constantly active process. The interior halls of the Cathedral lack that certain opulence that the main prayer chamber does. And while the old stone walls and marble floors give it some semblance of grandiose appearance, the stacks of folding tables, cardboard boxes filled with canned goods, and the constant through-traffic of transients makes it seem more like a well-built relief shelter than a place of worship.

"I mean like, it only makes sense, right?"

These double-wide series of old stone stairs with anachronisticly new looking metal handrails wind down beneath the central floor of the church. The muffled sounds of prayer and orgel music echo through the halls from above. Downstairs, there is even less of a sense of old-world charm, as exposed water pipes and unfinished ceilings give the expansive basement a very worked-on feeling. Makeshift walls have been put up to separate a portion of the basement for the living quarters for the homeless that spend time here, looking quite like a disaster relief shelter, lined with rows of cots and privacy curtains.

"Just be like, we're supposed to have the videos! Or… something?"

It is past the living quarters, though, that she takes the courier. Bringing her to a large and open room filled with folding tables and long bench seats, the kind used in highschool caffeterias. The breakfast crowd has already thinned out and moved on by this time, most of the long tables empty, save for a few wayward souls. Serving areas serve as partitions for the kitchen in the back, and a long area of counterspace features tall coffee pots and stacks of cardboard cups.

"I'll just act natural."

Arriving into the soup kitchen in the basement of the Cathedral of St.John, Colette Nichols looks like someone returning home after a long time abroad. There's a confident familiarity with which she navigates between the cafeteria tables and passes familiar waves to the kitchen staff behind the counters and steamer trays. "I used t'work here, it's how I met Grace an' Scott an' all the other Ferrymen guys." That very thought causes Colette to hesitate, looking towards a doorway that leads into the kitchen, brows furrowed. "I… had a friend named Trent who worked here too. I— haven't seen him in a long time."

Pausing where she's standing, Colette turns to look back to her reluctant co-conspirator in this endeavor, just now emerging from that very doorway Colette had. "So? You can do the whole," she waves a hand in the air, "these aren't the droids you're looking for thing, right?" Both dark brows waggle at the notion.

"Mmm Hmm." Kaylee offers softly at the mention of Colette acting normal, not completely convinced she can do it. But not much else is said right away, she's feeling odd about this whole thing. On one hand she would like to know how the riot started since she hadn't done it, but on the other hand… she doesn't want to be doing the whole mind trick thing. Last night's recurring nightmare a reminder of why.

Pulling the knit cap off her head, leaves her hair a bit wild making it stick out a little like she has a static charge. "Yeah.. I can do my thing." She offers softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth at the brow waggle. "I can even change their memory of who they gave the video too." She points out as the cap is tucked into a pocket of her worn leather jacket.

Still standing in the doorway, Kaylee takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, eyeing the soup kitchen with a touch of nervousness. "Let's do this thing before I lose my nerve."

The thing about places like this is that, no matter how quietly you speak, you're never really alone. The woman who comes down the hall a short ways behind Kaylee is dressed in jeans, a red shirt, and a decidedly military-surplus jacket; the kind with pockets everywhere, and who knows what tucked away in them. Her lips quirk sideways in a faint, amused smirk.

"Before you do…"

It's the voice that gets attention first, unmistakably distinctive; the rough edges of gravel grinding on broken glass, profoundly incongruous with Grace Matheson's appearance.

"Is this a private plot, or can anyone join?"

There's something in the way she leans against the wall, however, the tilt of her head and subtle curve of lips, the unwavering focus of those clear blue eyes on both girls, which suggests Grace won't be deterred by anything so simple as a request she leave them in peace.

The way Colette jerks her shoulders and makes a loud squeak is almost like someone stuck an ice-cube down the back of her shirt. "G— Grace." This is much the same reaction she had when Grace nearly broke her arm when Colette snuck up on her last year in this very spot. The green-eyed teen looks much like the cat that swallowed the canary, the guilty look on her face almost the quality of tail-features in her mouth. "H— Hey we— were just…" One pale hand waggles in the air near Colette's head.

"Ah, we… " Colette's shoulders slouch, and she walks up towards Kaylee, slapping a hand on the blonde's shoulder, then moves past her towards Grace in a very we're busted motion. "We— We're trying to get copies of the security camera footage from the night that riot happened here, when they were handing out the vaccines?" Dark brows creep up into a worried expression. "The big bald guy who helps out a lot, Eric? Doc Brennan's blaming him for what happened, but Eric swears up and down he didn't have anything to do with the riot. So, I thought if we got our hands on the video, we might be able to notice something the cops didn't. There's video on the internet from the news, but it's cut and edited." Colette's nose wrinkles.

"We found out this guy Marcus maintains security footage records, so… I figured Kaylee might be able to— you know…" Green eyes afford Kaylee with an askance look, followed by a crooked smile as she turns her focus back to Grace. "Politely ask for it?"

Turning quickly ass if startled, Kaylee gives the older woman a wide eyes look, till she sees who is there. The blonde relaxes visibly, shoulders slumping some, "Grace." The telepath sounds relieved, of course, normally she should notice the presences around her, but… she's not exactly concentrating on that. Being tired all the time and focusing on the task will do that. "Didn't notice you there… " Her voice low and a bit embarrassed that she has been caught.

Nodding slowly in agreement to what Colette says before Kaylee offers her own take, "The doctor thinks Eric and I started the riot. I think for the most part he isn't pursuing it, but I'd still like to see if there is anything noticeable on the tape."

Her teeth chews on the inside of her cheek as Kaylee watches the oldest of them, "I'm going to give him a push to give us the tape." She admits guiltily, a bit of a smile tugging at her lips as well.

Canting her head, Grace regards the girls steadily. The smirk, a subtle expression to begin with, disappears somewhere during those moments; and the weight of her gaze becomes something almost tangible. "A 'push'," she echoes quietly; which, coming from a telepath, can have only one meaning in practice.

The woman straightens, steps away from the wall, towards the other two. "Ladies.

"The day I find out you have done any such thing to anyone in this organization," the raven's voice states in a low, rasping hiss, "is the day you will find yourselves on the doorstep so fast your heads spin.

"Do you understand me?"

"N— No it— " Colette's hands come up, wagging from side to side as her brows raise and shoulders slink up to match her head ducking down. "We'd never— " would they? "Kaylee'd never do that, I mean— they won't give us the tapes otherwise, so— so I mean— no harm done, right?" Dark brows furrow together, and Colette looks quickly towards Kaylee and then back to Grace again. "I can't go to my dad about this, it'd make people look at him all crookedly and I— I won't have him risk his job. So— so this'll work."

Biting down gently on her lower lip, Colette's brows furrow slightly. "Did you want to know what Peyton found out last night?" There's a little less reprehension in Colette's tone of voice as she asks that of Grace, as if somehow Colette puts a little telepathic snooping on the same moral foundation as mind-control.

Brows lift high on Kaylee's head, but then her brows furrow a bit, something that she rarely does. "Why would I do that?" She sounds rather offended that Grace would even think that and a bit hurt. "I haven't yet and I don't plan too. I want people in this organization to trust me, not fear me. Just like I haven't 'looked' where I'm not welcomed. I do have some morals." There is a slight edge to her voice as she continues to speak softly, her chin tilting up slightly. "If this person was in the organization, well then… it wouldn't be hard to get a copy I'm sure, but we're not dealing with that." Teeth clenched tight she turns back to the task at hand.

"Where is he, Colette?" Kaylee's voice tight. "Let's get done so we can get out of here."

The woman lets out her breath in a sharp huff. "Clearly, she would 'do that', if what I heard was any indication." Grace doesn't look at Kaylee, doesn't give any indication that this is intended as a reprimand; it's an argument with Colette rather than an accusation of the telepath, which is somewhat of an odd line to draw. She steps past the two girls, shaking short black hair back out of her face. "Miss Demsky." The whole surname is a bit more of a mouthful than Grace cares to bother with right now. "Miss Thatcher. You could ask me. Or any other of us." Meaning the senior operators, of course. She pauses in her motion, glances over her shoulder enough to catch Kaylee in peripheral vision. "Tell me, Kaylee — where does the Ferry end and St. John's begin? Can you find that line?

"Because I surely can't."

Grace continues into the soup kitchen, leaving questions of what they know and whether they will continue with their plan behind her; it's up to them whether they go with Grace or continue independently.

"Like the Ferry doesn't have other stuff to worry about right now?" Colette states somewhat stubbornly, because obviously this idea is fine and she needn't reconsider because that would mean admitting she's wrong and god forbid Colette have to go down that road. "I don't recognize 'em and I worked here for a long time, besides s'not hurting anyone. It's more important to figure out what started the riot than wonder about that junk. It needs t'get done, an' I don't need anyone to hold my hand." That's where it comes from, stubbornness and a need to feel self-reliant.

Anxiously, Colette furrows her brows and shifts her weight to one foot more so than the other. "Besides, nobody knows everyone in the Ferry. Maybe— maybe he does work for 'em, maybe he doesn't. You don't know everyone either, official or not, s'how this works." Stubbornness breeds bull-headedness, "I— can't just keep sitting on my hands and doing nothing." She's trying not to yell, only just barely keeping herself in control. "Joseph's missing, nobody knows where he is, I— I can't find anyone to help. This— this is something I can get done!" No matter the cost? Or at least, she wasn't considering it.

"Not the people in the organization. So no I wouldn't." The words are hissed out of Kaylee's mouth. She had to Brennan, but he wasn't Ferry at the time, he was brought in after it all. She turns and her back thumps roughly against the wall. "Fuck." The word is mutters as Grace moves on. A hand rests against her mouth, her eyes shutting as she works to reign in emotions. This is not her.. things like this are not suppose to fluster her. But Grace had successfully hit her in a place important to her, the blonde's place within the Ferrymen.

"Didn't think to ask…." Kaylee admits when she looks at Colette. ".. if anyone could get the tape without the push." The words are honest when she talks to her friend softly, "Trust goes both ways.." Pushing away from the wall, Kaylee moves into Colette's personal space, to bring their heads close together so that she can whisper, "..and obviously there is enough strikes against me, I wasn't aware of." A hand moves to rest on her shoulder, squeezing lightly, "I can't risk loosing the little trust I might have. Maybe we should just ask for help getting those tapes." Blue eyes glancing out of the corner of her eye at Grace.

Grace pauses as Colette addresses her. "Kid, this isn't about 'holding your hand'. It's about trust." She waves a hand at the building above them. "Whether you're talking St. John's or the Ferry, all of this is built on trust, common ground, and mutual assistance. You're not even giving him a chance to say no — or yes. You're just going to walk up there and push until he yields. You cross that line, you start taking without so much as a consideration for the people you take from, you've lost the spirit of our work. No, not lost. You betray it."

Narrowed blue eyes level on Colette. Grace's voice is quiet, but it's that sort of quiet which arises from loud anger held forcefully in check. "You can't find anyone to help? You never fucking asked! I haven't heard word one from you. Harkness, McKeon — if they had, I would know. Same goes for half the rest of the network. How many of us do you know, Colette? Do you really think every single one of us would say no if you walked in the door and asked for help? Even if you did it at oh-dark-thirty in the morning? What the fuck is it you think we do with our lives?

"If you want to be idiotically stubborn and refuse help, that's your right. But if your pigheadedness means you take from people who might just work with you if you tried—" Grace's teeth clamp shut, and though temper glints in her eyes — or perhaps because of it — she turns away and strides across the room.

Bristling, the cast of Colette's jaw to one side and the way she won't look at anything other than her feet gives her the quality of something akin to a whipped puppy. She swallows, tense against the emotion from the verbal back-handing delivered by Grace. She doesn't talk, doesn't make a speech to defend herself, just watches as Grace turns about and moves away, keeping her head bowed all the while, dark bangs hiding her eyes. Fingers balled up into fists at her side, he looks to the doors that lead out of the soup kitchen— easier to run— the notion crosses her mind for a moment before she looks up to Kaylee.

"Let's go get the god damned tape." The words are croaked out in the back of Colette's throat, absolutely pig-headed defiance of reconsidering her path and teenage rebellion against being told what to do — even if she is wrong — have steered her towards following along with her original plan; as morally misguided as it may be.

Hands move to grip thin shoulders and gently pull the teenage to face Kaylee and force her to look at the blonde. "Colette." Her name is spoken softly, "…your screaming again." In other words, she hears what she's thinking.

Eyes rove over that defiant look on Colette's face. "Take a deep breath and let it out slowly." Her voice is calm, despite her own jumbled emotions. "Don't think about how she said it, listen behind the harsh words to what she said." Head tilted down some,, so that her eyes kind of look up at Colette, she gives her a moment to think on what was said. "There is another way." She offers up the obvious. "If there is a way I don't have to use my ability…." She trails off giving her a look. Hands squeeze the shoulders of the young girl before her. I told you my ability can be dangerous. The more I use it the more I want too, but yet here I am. Meaning she risked herself to be here. Head tilts a bit, blond hair sliding off her shoulder. "But if there is another way…. we should try it." Hands slide off the girl's shoulders. I don't want to loose myself to temptation. "If that doesn't work… then maybe, hmm?" She glances over at Grace, thoughtfully.

Still regarding her feet with serious consideration, Colette's brows stay knit together and nosr wrinkled in a manner that would make any mother warn her that it might just stay that way. It's only when Kaylee's hands take their brief place on Colette's shoulders that the girl's tension starts to bleed away. Her jaw remains tense, set squarely before working from one side to the other, and as Kaylee's hands slide down from Colette's shoulders, she turns her head and looks up to the considerably taller blonde. Colette doesn't say anything, so much as just swallow nosily, and with a look of repentant worry bows her head in a single, silent nod.

Green eyes blink repeatedly, washing away the emotion in them from hearing Grace's sharp tone of voice, and Colette is left to look up towards the direction of the back rooms. "Hh— " her voice cracks, and she's forced to swallow before trying that again. "He's this way…" She murmurs, taking a few lazy steps behind Kaylee towards a door in the back of the cafeteria.

"Before we do that." Kaylee murmurs with a small nod, no emotion showing on her face. "I need to talk to Grace about something" There is no wait for an answer, before she moves away, callign out over the din, "Grace!"

"Are any of the Ferrymen able to find someone who has vanished in thin air?" Kaylee asks quietly after she hurries to close the distance between her and Grace, the words a touch breathless. In the telepath's mind finding the Pastor trumps the clearing of her own name, hands down. "I've met a lot of people in the group, but I don't think all.. But we don't even have the smallest clue of where Joseph is. We've been focusing on locating him first, then looking at gathering the troops, so to speak. But we did put out word that he was missing."

"Wouldn't have some one come forward if they could? I mean… locate him?" She takes a step to put her closer to the older woman, voice lowering even more. "There is a girl out there that can find him, we've been searching for her. I met her once, but I didn't know who she was or that she would be important." Hands spread out before her, Kaylee shows her feelings on the manner with that gesture, helpless.

The dark-haired woman pauses as Kaylee calls out to her, turning back and watching the telepath make her way across the hall. She waits until the younger woman closes the distance to make a reply, and while her expression is difficult to read, her tone is far more even, despite traces of heat simmering beneath its broken surface. "Finding someone who's vanished, without even a lead — no," Grace replies. "Not so easily. That would probably take a postcog or precog; and both are pretty scarce so far as I know." A trace of a thin smile flits across her lips. "Doesn't mean there's no one who can help — and sometimes a blanket announcement isn't enough to get them involved, especially if they don't know you or the missing person." One shoulder lifts and falls in a simple shrug. "Going on that description," which is as vague as can be regarding a girl who can help, "I can't help you find her either," the woman remarks dryly.

Rolling her tongue over the inside of her cheek, Colette watches Grace and Kaylee's exchange quietly, arms folded across her chest and shoulders squared. Sure, she would love to apologize to Grace for being pig-headed and not thinking things through, but that's about as likely as her breaking out into song and dance right here and now. Colette's simply toos tubborn to admit she was wrong, at least right now.

Taking a few steps towards the door she was leading Kaylee to, Colette starts to pace instead, walking back and forth like a caged tiger, flicking her attention up to the other two women, not able to hear their conversation across the room; even if she is considering one of the other people who might be able to help, but typically if Tamara can, she offers not the other way around.

Or maybe this is when Colette is supposed to ask and— Colette reaches up and rubs one hand at the side of her head, that's really confusing.

"Her name is Matilda." Kaylee offers, but her shoulders slump a bit as she knows that Grce wouldn't be able to help with that. "She was living at the Lighthouse.. but decided to go out on her own." Fingers rub lightly across her forehead as she turns thoughtful. "She's like thirteen or something.. She freaked and ran away from me when we met. She found out I was a telepath." The blonde's head shakes slowly, brows dropping to a frown. "Something about having lived with a telepath, but that was before Joseph went missing."

Her hand drops away and pats lightly against her jean clad leg. "Thanks… though. I was hoping you knew someone off hand who could just give us a clue to where to start looking." Her eyes lift to look at Grace and she takes a deep breath. "Pastor Sumter just seems to have vanished without a trace and left his dog, who he loves, behind. Just frustrating."

She takes a step back and starts to turn, "Thanks though, Grace… " Kaylee pauses mid turn, glancing at Colette and looks back at the older woman. "Would… you be able to help us get that tape? Or know a better way to go about it?" She asks a bit timidly. "I know Colette won't be happy about it.. but I imagine she'll forgive me for asking… I just… If I don't have to use my ability.. it would be better."

Grace shakes her head. "Sounds like you need Matilda to find Matilda, and that is a paradox indeed." While Colette stands behind, Grace remains focused on Kaylee; giving the younger girl her distance, perhaps, or just refusing to take the first step in patching up their recent altercation. She, too, has her stubborn pride. Blue eyes watch the telepath turn away, and then turn back; at Kaylee's halting question, one corner of her lips tugs up in a fraction of a smirk. "I could," the woman replies. That's not quite the same as 'I will', but it's a very long ways from 'I won't'. Now she looks across the room at Colette, the smile traded for a neutral expression, one dark brow arching in a silent prompt.

It's surprising how much the two look alike in their posturing, Colette watching Grace with almost the same expression the older woman offers her. For a moment, it's like a staredown before a gunslinger's duel in the wild west, with Colette and Grace one dusty street away from that very image. A cafeteria does not much make for a dramatic backdrop for that sort of altercation, not does the way Colette eventually looks away, eyes averted to the floor and head shaking slowly. She moves to the door, reaching out to take the knob, then hesitates and looks back over her shoulder at Kaylee and Grace.

"Are you two coming or what?" Colette asks across the cafeteria, mild impatience masking something more genuine in regret and relief.

"You're telling me." Kaylee mutters in agreement, eyes cast to the ground before her, about Matlida as she gives a heavy sigh of defeat. When her eyes come up again, she notes where Grace if look and turns to look over her shoulder at her teenage friend, a small amused smile tugging her lips. There is a look of relieve when Colette calls out and the turns back to Grace giving her a somewhat pleading looking. "Please?" She asks softly, before turning to head towards where Colette waits for them.

The raven-voiced woman chuckles briefly at Colette's challenge, her gaze sliding sideways to Kaylee. "Lead the way," she instructs the telepath mildly, so much as she can ever be. And Grace does indeed follow Kaylee as they go back across the cafeteria to meet up with Colette.

Grace's return only comes with a minute show of relief from Colette, too much else is clouded behind that veil of sturbborn frustration as she turns about-face towards the door and opens it into a maintenance hall. Fluorescent lights flicker and hum overhead, draining out the color from the concrete-block corridor flanked on one side by hanging coat racks burdened with winter jackets. These back rooms are for cafeteria staff, but also lead towards storage and janitorial rooms, and more topically the object of Colette and Kaylee's search here.

Led down the hallways by Colette, the teen at their fore moves with a somewhat over-emphasized stalking posture, hands tucked into her pockets, shoulders hunched forward and posture stooped. Each clomping bootfall lead the two older woman behind her to an unmarked faux-wood door. Two quick knocks, then a jiggle of the door handle bring a roll to Colette's eyes and a huffed out sigh.

Turning to look at Kaylee and Grace, Colette begins to murmur, "It's locked— " right up until the door opposite of this one opens, and a volunteer worker stepping out with a half-eaten scone tucked into his mouth pauses guiltily in the hall. Eyes wide, the mousy-brown haired man looks back and forth from Colette to Kaylee and then Grace, brows raising and a muffled slur of words swallowed by his scone.

Once the scone is the thing swallowed, he looks a little less distracted. "Uh can— " his brows furrow together. "Oh uh, h— Hey Grace." Marcus Long may not be a member of the Ferrymen, but he's been working at the cathedral of St.John long enough to be a living landmark here. "Ah, if— I know those are for the volunteers," he jerks back to the door he's closing behind himself. "I ah, just— nobody was touching the scones so— " his eyes angle towards Colette. "Uh do— you— this isn't about the scones is it?"

"M'lookin for Marcus." Colette asks before Grace can really state the obvious, "I need to talk to him about, uh, some security tapes?" Dark brows lift up amd Colette leans against the locked door. Marcus looks at her like she might be blind — and that would've been a convenient excuse if she still was — because he promptly moves his free hand up to the name-tag affixed to the front of his shirt that plainly reads:

Hello, My Name is Marcus.


Walking just behind Colette, but close enough that she could walk on the back of the younger girls heels if she isn't careful. Her own boots making considerably less noise then Colette's stomping, Kaylee is quiet for the most part, relieved that she might not have to use her ability. So she's pretty content to let the others do the talking.

Kaylee does however, lifts a hand to hide the smirk that shows up at Colette's inattention to a small detail. "Hello Marcus." She offers, her tone colored with amusement.

Grace brings up the rear, not following the young women so closely. She inclines her head to the man. "Marcus." Her eyes imply the smile more than her lips actually describe it, amusement at his expense but not entirely unkind for all that. It's also at Colette's expense. She doesn't comment on the scone — Marcus is plenty capable of and already working on digging his own hole there, he doesn't need her help. "You mind if we take a look at a tape or two?" the woman asks.

"Uhh," a look is offered towards the locked storage room, then over to Grace, then her two companions with a squint. "I— Rrrreally can't do that. We had the police down here for a few days digging through those tapes, and they said that if they needed to take a look at anything else they'd be back… so…" His reluctance seems half-hearted, like he's more worried about getting in trouble than he is inconveniencing an ongoing investigation or even just doing something he figures he shouldn't. "Look ah, wh— what do you need to look at the security tapes for anyway, did something happen?"

While Grace is keeping Marcus occupied, Colette has turned to regard the locked door again, brows furrowed and one hand quietly jiggling the handle. Photokinesis doesn't really do anything for locks, especially when all she has to work with is old fluorescent light bulbs. Huffing out a sigh she turns to look at Grace, too-quick to take on that smug I was right expression.

There is a small smile plastered on Kaylee's face as she listens, watching the man fidget nervously. Her head tilts to one side ever so slightly as she watches him. "We were curious about the riots." The tall blonde pipes up finally, offering the man with a smirk. "Hoping to get a closer look at the tapes to see if we can see what started it." Eyes narrow at him a bit as she considers him. "Have you looked at them?" A brow lifts as she asks the question, a somewhat knowing look.. who wouldn't look in his position.

Now, now Grace raises one brow and gives Marcus a deceptively steady look. "Marcus. It's a perfectly reasonable request." Coming from her, at any rate. From the girls… not so much. "I can go through channels." Which is to say, other members of St. John's staff. Or maybe just Scott. "You know exactly what they'll say when I ask." Blue eyes shift to Colette, and then Kaylee; Grace is quiet for a brief moment.

"These two are my responsibility," she finally states, letting that gaze rest heavily on each of them. She didn't miss that fussing with the door, Colette. "They know what'll happen if they cross the line."

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Marcus looks over towards Colette with a side-long and uncertain stare, then angles his eyes back up to Grace. "Look just— " he reaches down to his waist, removing a ring of keys from where it's hooked at his belt, "just don't take anything out of here, okay?" He ambles across the hall and gives Colette enough of a look to get her sidling out of the way. The kets jingle and rattle, unlocking the door and opening it in ro a room with a pair of televisions creens, recording equipment and a tangled spaghetti-string mess of wires coming from open drop-ceiling tiles.

"The tapes are organized by date," he admits quietly, looking up one and eof the hall and down the other. "If anyone asks why you're in there just— uh…" There's really no answer that comes to Marcus' mind, and without even waiting for him to finish Colette is slipping in to the unlocked room past him.

"They won't even know we were here," she half-heartedly reassures him, which admittedly isn't very reassuring at all. Colette turns around once inside, looking at Kaylee and Grace with both her brows raised, a very well hury up expression.

Sighing tiredly, Marcus smooths a hand over his forehead. "Y— Yeah uh, I'll— I'm going to go out for a cigarette break. It would be really wonderful if you were all not here when I got back?" There's an awkward laugh offered at the end there, mostly in the hopes that Grace doesn't take too much offense to the idea. "Please." He hooks the keys back on his belt, looks at Kaylee for a moment, then just walks past her and shakes his head. He'd better not lose his job for this.

Slipping into the room, Kaylee's eyes wander over the equipment, simply nodding slowly to what Marcus is saying. Spotting the tapes, se moves to run fingers along the tags looking for the date of the riot, lips moving as she reads dates to herself. "Ah.. here." with a flick of a finger at the top edge of the tape, she slides it out of shelving. Turning with eyes bright with excitement, she gives it a bit of a wiggle. "Shall we see if we can see anything important?"

There is not waiting for an answer, Kaylee moves over to the machines as she pops the case open and push it into the the waiting slot, watching it disappear with a whirl and a hum of electronics. Sliding into a chair she moves to work the controls.

The dark-haired woman shakes her head after Marcus' retreating back, lips quirking sideways in a slight but definite smirk. Entering the room last and closing the door behind her, Grace leans her shoulder against the wall and settles in to supervise.

Moving to stand behind Kaylee once Grace has closed the door, Colette leans forward just a little to rest her hand on the back of the chair in front of the television, bracing her weight against it. As the camera footage comes on, Colette exhales a huffed breath of impatience, seeing preparations done earlier in the day. "This isn't it…" she murmurs, slipping around Kaylee with a cautious hand laid on the blonde's shoulder, then over to the tape machine. Turning the tracking dial, she fast-forward's through hours of early footage, breathing in a deep and tired breath, flagging her weight from one heel to another as crowds begin to gather, and that clock on the bottom-right corner of the screen keeps ticking up to evening hours. Colette goes too far, everything moving in a blur on the screen is absolutely carnage. The look of horrified confusion on her face comes with a click of the pause button, watching the surge of panic in a crowd that is seething over barricades, frozen in time.

Carefully, she shuttles the film back in ten minute intervals with a turn of the knob. Green eyes narrow, brows furrow, and Colette pauses, still in the middle of the riot, looking at the back of a blonde's head and a large and familiar's jolly-shaped man at her side. "There you are…" she whispers, tracking things back further, stopping only when she sees a folding chair flying through the air.

Colette tracks the film back a little further, then lets it play out.

A folding chair in the crowd goes flying at the line of protesters, and from the angle of this footage it's hard to tell if one of the protesters threw it. In that same moment a few cameras held by people in the crowd are jerked out of hands and are sent flying at the crowd as well. The cameras crack against cement, spraying the men and women standing in line with splinters of broken glass, plastic and miscellaneous. Things are just flying, one by one, but they're not coming from the front line of opposing protestors, it's impossible to see where they're coming from. After a while, it stops, and the teenage girl struck in the head by the flying chair lies draped over the curb, motionless, her face half-submerged in a puddle of rainwater turning red.

Colette presses the pause button and leans back, rubbing her hand over her mouth slowly. "You guys weren't even anywhere near that when it happened…" Colette murmurs, looking at the footage with a disgusted expression. The black and white security camera does little to help discern the finer details of far away objects. "I… I don't know." She mumbles, looking over to Kaylee with dark brows furrowed. "Do— you want to keep watching?" She depresses the pause button again, just letting the tape play as she talks to Kaylee. "I— I don't know if— "

When something on the screen catches Colette's eye, her voice cuts off and she looks back att he screen intently. Click-snap-pop, the film is rewinding and Colette is leaning over the chair, up on her toes, one hand balanced on the back of the chair and nose practically pressed up to the screen. "W'the fuck is that?" She asks to herself in a whisper, then hops back onto her heel and motions to the screen.

"Look, watch— " she twirls one finger and creates a red dot of light on the screen, like a laser pointer from her fingertip. "Watch here, and…" frame by frame, Colette ticks the film ahead. "Watch between everyone's legs." On the ground, there's something strange moving, at first resembling a puddle of water, it surges up and changes shape into a knife-like edge, cuts across a man's legs and sends him down tot he ground, then smooths back out into a shiny liquid, like mercury, and then sharpens back into a knife to strike at someone else. "What… the hell is that?"

Leaning back when the hand touches her shoulder, Kaylee lets the teen run through the tape. And elbow rests on the arm of the chair, as her eyes watch the screen almost unblinking afraid of missing anything. At Colette's uncertainty, Kaylee shakes her head. "I was at the tent most of the time." The words soft, brows furrowed in concentration.

She sees something as well, starting to point, but Colette starts rewinding. Leaning closer to the screen, her blue eyes narrows as she watched the blur of motions. "I remember something.. whizzed right past some of the people near me.. people crying out in pain.." She trails off watching the object zip around. "That… is crazy." She murmurs softly watching it.

Watching the screen as Colette flips through the tape, Grace peers at the metallic puddle when she points to it. "Shines like metal," the woman remarks. "Suppose you never broke a mercury thermometer — started phasing them out even before my time," she adds. "Figure a metallokinetic, and a pretty adept one since it looks like that knife started as something else." The fact that it's moving about of its own accord doesn't seem to perturb Grace much — but then, this is a tape.

"Metallo… kinetic?" Furrowing her brows, Colette looks up to Grace and seems to get the jist of what she's describing. "So like, somebody who works with metal like how I workw ith light; Okay." Her eyes focus back on the screen, considering the images. "All of the stuff that was getting thrown around; the folding chair, cameras, and now that freaky knife— those all have a lot of metal in them. Kaylee, this metal guy might have been the one who started everything!" Green eyes go wide, a smile spread from ear to ear as she tracks the tape forward a bit more, eventually coming to a point where she loses sight of the living metal knife. But instead, is treated to the faces of men struggling in the crowd, one hobbling and holding his side as he pulls free of the rioters, and even in his injured state, Colette recognizes the face of Robert Caliban, he was one of the first two people she ever saw with her fully healed vision, after all.

"I know that guy," Colette taps the screen with her index finger. "His name's uh," she puffs out her cheeks and slowly sighs, "Rrrr…." almost, "Robert something, I— " a memory dawns on Colette, and the teen is quick to reach inside of her black denim jacket, fishing around before producing a Linderman Group card between two fingers. "Robert Caliban!" She points the card at him.

"He works for my sister's boss, Linderman." Colette says that as if it isn't really a significant point of ocntention, that somehow she is the child of an NYPD detective, has a sister working in the Linderman Group and she's planted squarely in the Ferrymen's company.

"I don't recognize the skinny guy with him though," the card wags towards a thinner man who looks severely put off by the riot. "They both came right out of the crowd where that stabby thing was moving, and Caliban looks like he got poked by something." Colette can't know that Caliban's injuries were sustained from another source entirely, but the parallel is there to draw.

"I got his number, and I bet he knows who the skinny guy is. I might be able to see if I can get them to tell me anything they know about what happened." Straightening up, Colette watches the tape play through the remainder of the riot, teeth toying with her lower lip as she shakes her head, arms folding across her chest.

As people continue fleeing the scene in every direction like rats plunging off a sinking barge, the helicopter completes slow, vulture circles above the riot, a spotlight beaming down on the chaos so the camera has better illumination to record by. It casts the dead young woman's battered shape in a radiant glow, protectively curled around the keening child even though she herself has become still has death in the wake of the stampede.

"There's no way Eric did this." Colette murmurs with a small shake of her head, "no way."

Mouthing the word, Kaylee glances up at Grace, brows lifting high. "People can do that?" She sounds surprised even if she herself is a telepath and has a house mate that puppets people. Even for her somethings seem out of the realm of possible. "That's insane." Her eyes on that forming puddle. She peers at the men and shakes her head slowly. "I… they look familiar, but I think it's cause I saw them in the crowd…"

"Wait…" Kaylee points at Caliban's grainy form. "He was there when I was taken to pull… someone.. " The telepath hesitates as she almost lets slip she pulled a Company Founder of her nightmares. "… out of a coma.. Linderman was caring for her." A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "I almost forgot about that." She leans back again and sighs softly watching the rest of the riot play by having only seen it from one perspective, this was a bit surreal.

"No.." Kaylee states firmly. "He did not."

Grace listens while the two talk over the scene, its participants, its cause. She settles back to resting against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. One dark brow lifts when she does finally speak, responding to Kaylee's question. "Some of them, sure. Same way you read minds." Blue eyes glance off Colette's profile in the momentary pause that ensues. "So. What're you going to do about it?"

"I can talk to Doc Brennan," Colette says quietly, looking away from the screen when the video turns to static at the end of the recording. "Try and talk to him about Eric, tell him what I saw on the tape. He— we kinda know each other, so… he might listen to me." Green eyes track up to Kaylee for a moment, then over to Grace. "I can try and talk to Mister Caliban and see if he saw anything. It— it'll keep me occupied while we're trying to figure out what to do about Joseph."

Sitting down on the edge of the desk that the video equipment is situated on, Colette folds her arms across her chest. One dark brow lifts as she looks over to Kaylee, "Also, Kaylee… I'm gonna have you look for someone who might know a little bit about Joseph. I— I just saw her recently but she didn't say anything, so— either she doesn't know, or it wasn't me she had to tell." There's a squint in one of Colette's eyes, as awkward an expression as her words are. "Just… go wherever. It doesn't matter, but be looking for a girl named Tamara." Colette's lips creep up into a faint smile at that. "It doesn't matter where you go, or why you're there, just go there looking for her and you'll find her. Or she'll find you. I— I'm still not sure how it works. She'll… she's hard to understand at times, but she knows stuff." Which is to say that rain is kind of damp, or other such understated truths.

"She's… kind've like," Colette wags one hand see-saw in the air, "She sees the future. Just— don't expect her to tell you more than you need to know. It's… complicated. But you can trust her, more than probably anyone else." Teeth toy at Colette's lower lip, and her green eyes angle up to Grace. "If you hear about anybody in the network who might be able to help us find Joseph, or… I don't know, anything that might help. I'm worried. I'm— really worried about him."

Moving to rest her arms on the desk before her, Kaylee sighs softly watching as the the crowds thin and police bring back order. "Well… without knowing who… we're in the same place we are with finding Joseph and Matilda, it feels like. Stacking the plate higher and no way to empty it… but…" Taking a deep breath, Kaylee lets it out slowly. "… you have seen it with your own eyes. We didn't do it.. that is what matters most to me, truthfully."

Hands move to rest on the edge of the desk and Kaylee pushes the chair back so she can stand. "Seriously, Colette.. Doctor Brennan seems to be just letting it lie. He might not like me and Eric, I can live with that." Glancing, behind her at Grace, Kaylee steps away from the chair while pushing it back into place. "I'd rather not dredge that old argument up again with him. I say unless he starts going off about it again just let it go."

Frowning a bit at the mention of this Tamara person and how to find her, Kaylee looks mildly confused. "Soooo… Just anywhere?" There is amusement in her tone at that. "Um… Okay. I…can try." She looks a bit skeptical about it, but hey…. what's it going to hurt to try? Not like they have many choices.

The woman behind them nods slowly as they speak, seeming to find no great objection with Colette's plans. Assuming that the plans survive contact with actual events, but — there's nothing Grace can do about that. "There's a couple people who might have… skills… that could help. I'll put out a couple of letters, send them your way if they're interested." She raises two fingers from where her hands rest, crossed across her chest. "I can't do better than that, because I'm only passingly familiar with them." It's not like trading on two years of familiarity with the staff of St. John's.

There's a disquieted noise from Colette at Kaylee's recommendation, and the way the teen huffs out her response of "Yeah okay…" indicates that she's pribably going to bring it up to Brennan regardless, it goes with the stubborn territory. "At least I know for sure now, what happened. There's not a whole lot to go on, but… I've got to keep myself busy. If I just sit around or— " frustratedly waving one hand in the air, Colette leans off of the desk and takes a step towards the desk Grace is leaning against.

"Sorry for…" Colette looks down at her feet, rolling one shoulder, "earlier." It's about as humble as shes going to get right now, but it's more than she was considering to offer earlier. "C'mon, Kaylee, we still have some Christmas presents to pick up on our way back," the younger girl notes with a not towards the door, "can't make Eric dress up like Santa for nothing."

"Thank you, Grace." Kaylee gives her a soft smile, showing her appreciation. "For that.. and helping us get a look at the tapes without using…" Her eyes lift to the door. "…other means." She won't admit to just anyone how worried she is about the Pastor, lord knows, Colette knows already and making threats… she doesn't need anyone else knowing. "It's more then enough your trying."

"Why do you think I've been pouring myself into Summer Meadows and this Santa thing?" Kaylee asks as arms slide off the back of the chair and she moves to lean around it and pop the tape out of the machine. “Too keep busy.” Tucking it back in it's box, she shoves it back on it's shelf afterwards, with a little pat. "But, yeah.. better get out of here before Marcus has a coronary or something from anxiety."

Grace nods to Colette's apology; doesn't spend any more time on it than that, probably to the girl's relief. "You're welcome," she says to both of them. Kaylee gets a brief quirk of the woman's lips before Grace opens the door and steps outside, waving them out of the record room. "Next time, just ask. Usually there's something I can do. Or someone I can direct you to."

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