Participants:
| Scene Title | Cubbyhole Full Of Guns |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Huruma delivers the guns Ryans asked for and more, including some 'pink' weapons for the girls. Awww… how cute! |
| Date | September 13, 2010 |
Gun Hill: The Ryans' Apartment
It's evening at Gun Hill and the world is working its way towards nighttime, the sky outside streaked through with sunsets colors. Ryans has finally given up on another day of renovations, feeling like he's made progress. He was right, it's been keeping him busy enough, though that itch is still there. The need to do more then just bang nails into walls. He is feeling the frustration of being retired all over again.
His brown hair is plastered to his head, clinging damp from a recently taken shower. He stands in the kitchen in a gray t-shirt and jeans, working on downing a glass of ice water. Benjamin is ready to relax for the night.
His thoughts about what he plans to do with his evening are interrupted by a knock on his door, glancing over his shoulder, he's still for a moment til he hears a second knock. That has him sighing, the glass set aside. "A moment." He rumbles out, moving to open the door.
Perhaps not his favorite person in the world, but still some manner of friendly, Huruma stands on the other side of the door in what appears to be activewear, however odd the idea that Huruma does normal things can be. Underarmour doesn't give her a lot in the department of loose clothing, but at least it seems a second skin instead of a stifling layer of wicking fabric. Beside the two tones of a gray shirt and black capris- and lord, are those tennis shoes?- Huruma has a pair of military green duffel bags, one on either shoulder that seem to be heavy enough to have made her plainly exert herself in fanangling them here.
"I brought you a present. Or three. Depends on what you want t'keep…" She also sounds worn out, her voice steady, but weary all the same. The weight of the bags is enough to root her in place for the span of having the door opened. "An'I got somet'ing for Delia. Lucille as well, if she comes back t'th'country." There may also be gummi bears in between the heavy rounds and the pink revolver.
"Huruma." Her name is said in the same way a person would say 'hello'. A dark brow hitches up at the tall woman's fashion choice, however, before Ryans eyes the duffel bags with mild interest. After a moment of hesitation he takes a step to the side giving Huruma plenty of room to make her want into the apartment.
"It wasn't any trouble was it?" He asks quietly, eyes shifting quickly to look out into the hall as if expecting something to happen. "I appreciate the effort, in getting this stuff for us."
"Nobody is around. I would know." Huruma comments, seeing his eyes shift to look into the hall. She turns to move the rest of the way into the barebones apartment, eyes roaming with a general interest to see if much has changed. Not terribly. "No trouble at all. Some of th'smaller things were quite simple. If there is somet'ing you d'no'want, I will take it back wit'me." No pressure to keep two big duffels full of guns. She sets them down, almost gingerly, one at a time on the carpet of the middle of what high traffic area she can find. Pale eyes find Ryans, shoulders rolling back.
"You are free t'disperse anything t'your …friends. Or give them m'contact information. I am no'th'best courier, but I am reachable, impartial…"
Crouching down, Ryans' knees give that distinct pop that comes from getting older. He may be younger, but he's still physically pushing forty. Large hand snags the end of one of the duffel bags and with the other hand draws the zipper down, till he can see what's within that one duffel. He doesn't hesitate to reach in and pulled out the sleek black stalk of a Mossberg shot gun.
There is a satisfied nod of his head, obviously pleased already. With a quick jerk of his hand he listens to the cha-chak of the pump action.
Wow. Is that a small hint of a smile on his lips? The old man straightens giving Huruma his full gaze. "Thank you. This is exactly what we need. I doubt we'll be safe here forever, eventually, they will find us."
"They will. They will find you as you found me, as your fellows found mine." Huruma speaks it as plainly as she can, as clearly as she can, right there to his face. It is true, and while it is the elephant in the room she may as well assist in addressing it. "But as they are not here, currently-" She jerks her eyes away, bending over to dig into the other bag. A plastic bag of gummi bears gets tossed absently across the room to land on some of Delia's things, and before long Huruma is standing up to show him his whelps' prize(s).
A pink and steel revolver, a two-tone silver and white Ruger pistol, and a third pistol, a Sig Sauer, two toned with black and hot pink. "You'ave no idea'ow embarassing this was f'me t'buy- but I thought that, if I made this as …friendly to learn as I could-" Perhaps it would equal receptiveness.
"I feel somewhat dirty now, but if it works, it works…"
Those three guns bring out a genuine smile on Ryans' face. "You… " Eyes lift from the guns to Huruma, an actual hint of a laugh in his voice. "You bought those?" Bending a little at the knees, Ryans sets the shot gun down, so that he can relieve the amazon woman of one of the pink guns.
He hefts it in his hand, his hand wraps around it, trigger finger laying along side the barrel. He cocks it listening to the sound before he carefully ease the hammer down with a soft click. "She will resist, but… I think these will ease the tension." His eyes wander to the other guns, before offering back the one he has. "I hope."
Hey! It was a serious mission! Huruma almost died. (From embarrassment.)
"You should'ave seen th'other guy." To see her buying these is a whole new ballpark. Huruma's long fingers graze over the pair in her hands, before she sets them down and accepts the one back from Benjamin. She tests the weight a moment, hand on the grip and wrist fluid. "They are good guns. Deceptively cute only. I've tested all of th'mechanics, shot them all m'self." For this, she does make sure he sees her gesturing down to the rest. Rather than toss the one in her hand back down, Huruma cinks into a crouch and then backwards, sitting herself quite roughly down onto the floor, her arms perched on her knees. Imma sit right here. She makes no big deal of being more tired than she appears, but with this he will know better. Whatever she was up to before did a number. She could also pass for bored, technically.
"I got enough bullets t'last most of these one or two sets- bullets are easier t'buy than guns." Ryans may also note in time, that most of the arms she has brought are of common sizes, bullet-wise.
The old man, made young again crouches down across the duffels from Huruma and starts to tuck the weapons back in their bags. He shifts through the weapons one by one, with keen interest. Each is eyed with an expert eye, each hand gun is tested, looked over and hefted, until one is found that he likes and tucks it in his jeans. He'll feel better with two guns on him.
Finally, he zips each one and stands, jerking his head towards the hall. "I know where to put these." One of the bags is picked up, leaving one fore Huruma to bring with her. Not waiting for her to follow, Benjamin moves down the hall and into his room at the far end of the hall. With the fire escape, it's likely his escape route.
The room is pretty much empty, only hint that it is his room is that a few items of his clothes lay on a folding cot, this is where he drops the bag, before angling his way to the closet.
Fine, fine. Huruma sways a moment, silently complaining in her sit, before leaning forward to push herself up and hoist the second bag. She wanders after him, taking a moment to pause in the frame of the door and consider the fire escape, the folding cot, what few things he still has around. It doesn't surprise her, but all the same she is wary of the lack of connection to staying here at Gun Hill. Another sign that he knows it is only a matter of time, perhaps.
Huruma steps forward and puts the duffel down beside the cot, wrapping her forearms across her stomach and watching Ryans quite studiously. She pries, silently, the claws of her ability pulling open his mood like a shellfish. Only a peek, right now.
He's guarded, nervous… irritable. He's like a giant caged lion, with no way to follow the instincts he was born with. He's wound up, and work only keeps him somewhat sated. Ryans is itching for the fight, clearly. All these she can read as Ryans opens a closet that only has few clothes hanging, the rest sitting on the small shelf along the top.
Pushing the hanging pairs of pants to the side, Huruma can't quite see what he's doing until she hears the scrape of wood on wood, when his body suddenly gives a jerk. Turing from the small closet, Ben is holding a large wood panel in his hands. "I found this cubbie when I was looking the place over." Old cobwebs can be seen within the large squarish hole. "It's an older building… they are riddled with these."
Huruma, as she is apt to do, is already trying to peer past him when he starts scrabbling around at something in the closet. When he looks for her, board in hand, she is virtually on his arm, peering past the crook of him into the cubbyhole.
"Riddled, you say?" Huruma's curiosity gets the better of her and she stoops into the closet to wave the cobwebs out of the entrance of the hidden space. Exploration is one of those things she has never grown out of, really. Hidden gems get the best of her. What's in here? "Nice hiding place." Her voice echoes a little in the small closet.
"Mmm." Ryans agrees with the dark skinned woman, not really verbalizing it. He steps around her, setting the board against the wall, ignoring a gray spider that scurries over the wall with long legs. Mary would have shrieked and shouted for him to kill it. The woman was tough in many ways, but spiders were not it.
The space is devoid of anything, but the spiders and roaches, most of the later having scurried away from the light already. "Working to fix up the places for the owner, I am finding little cubby holes like that. One of the ground floors apartments has a floor hold. " Picking up the first of the duffels he turns and waits patiently for her to move so that he can tuck it into the hole in the wall.
Huruma, in her infinite wisdom, chases the sizable spider with her hand and clamps down over it, bringing the critter out of the closet with her. It's a moment of disparity, amidst her usual aptness in simply squashing things. He can shove what he wants in there now that she is out; Huruma sidles over to the window on the fire escape, cracking it and putting the arachnid down on the sill.
"I knew you could find something t'help with, here. I do no'suppose it is much more than repairs, is it? Has Delia found anything?"
"Just repairs, but I did a lot of that for Mary at the house." Ryans confirms with a slow nod of his head in agreement, the second bag is grabbed, but it takes a bit more work to fit it into the hole. Color him cautious, it's probably not necessary to do that in a Ferryman safe house, but he's not taking any chances. Once it's wedged into place, Benjamin steps back to check his work.
"One of the Ferry came to Delia and asked her to help with medical stuff." That offered after he seems satisfied and turns to pick up the board. "So… she's settling into the role." There is satisfaction to that, he's glad she found something to keep her mind busy.
It's a few more moments, while he pushes the board back into place. "I met her young man, by the way." Ryans gives her a knowing look, he knows that she knows who it is.
Huruma's faint smile grows when he mentions the young man. She already seemed pleased with Delia finding something worthwhile, and the mention of Jaiden has her chuckling just a little. "Oh, you did, did you…? What did you think of him, then?" Her hand shuts the window again, the other finding the curve of her hip.
"Sh'asked me not t'tell you about him. T'let him go t'you. He seemed- respectful enough, around me." She says this in guessing he was the same way with Ben.
"He's too old, but…" Ryans sighs heavily, pushing the closet door shut again, hand flat against the plane of the door, til it clicks. The sound of his hand sliding away is rough, from years of work. "… he is a respectful young man. He came to me, without prompting from Delia." A glance is angled her way, his head turning ever so slightly. "I threatened him with you should he hurt her."
It was a logical choice. "There is also a young boy sniffing around Delia. His name is Amadeus Deckard." The names growled out roughly, obviously someone Ryans doesn't like. "She wants nothing to do with him." He explains, giving her a knowing look.
"Age is a number." Huruma rolls her shoulders in a mild shrug, lips pursing into an expression of resignation on that matter. "Makes sense." On using her as a threat, however, she seems more keen. Her head tilts, questioning, at the new name. Mostly new. She narrows her eyes for a beat, peering at Ryans as if he can answer her memory for her. That sounds familiar. Dreadfully so.
"So d'you want me t'kill him, or jus'make sure he doesn't come back, next time he shows his mug?" Huruma is getting some mixed messages about this. "B'cause I'ave had it up t'ere with stalkers, creepers. Those kinds."
"No." Ryans says with a sigh, though it is tempting to take her up on it. "Better not, just… if he distresses Delia… throw him out." He doesn't exactly like that solution but… "He is staying within the building at this point." He looks rather unhappy as he says that.
A glance goes to the dark woman and Ryans gives a jerk of his head goes in the direction of the door. "Come on. No reason to linger in here." Last thing he needs is or Delia to see them back there.
Huruma lets out a huff when he informs her he is living in the building. Maybe she should leave him a present. She stalks out of the room first, arms going to cross in front of her middle again. She is acutely aware, suddenly, that wearing tennis shoes with these pants probably make her feet look even bigger- she is afforded one of these woman moments at any given time, she's earned them.
"I suspect I will know him if I see him." She will deal with it then. "You shoul'find a better bed. That can't be good f'your back." Huruma, in fact, does have an age, and it is enough to- pardon the word- empathize.
A glance goes to Huruma, amusement coloring his emotions again. "I've slept on worse in my lifetime," Ryans feels the need to point out. "For the time being it's good enough." Cause she's right, Ryans doesn't believe he'll be in this place for much longer, no reason for comfort. However, a glance in Delia's room would show, the old man doesn't hold the same standard to his daughter.
"I do thank you for the guns," Ryans states again, weariness settling on his shoulders, it's been a busy day for the ex-agent. "I'll see what I can do about practice for Delia. You may have to hunt her down for her defense lessons."
"As have I, bu'tha'does no'mean old goats like us cannot sleep better." Huruma smiles, a slip of white teeth in her dark mouth. "There are a couple ranges I can suggest, though I shall'ave t'see about who frequents them." She pauses a moment after saying this, looking askance to Ben and to the door. Mischief face.
"So, how d'you propose I test wha'she knows? Jump her an'see what'appens? Or pretend she knows not'ing?
After a moment of thought, there is a gesture given Huruma's way, head dipping down in her direction. He's submitting her thoughts on the matter, he vocalizes the same a moment later, "I leave it to your discretion, just… remember she's been sheltered from our way of like, Huruma." Ryans smiles a bit, before it slides away like it never happened.
"I'd love for her to continue like that, but…" Ryans doesn't continue that sentence, letting the rest of it fall away.
"My discretion, mm?" Huruma lifts a palm to her neck, sneaker tapping the floor. "I know you would. But while she is here, I may as well help her." Even if helping her means trying to knock her for a loop. Tough love. Huruma had to learn the hard way, Delia gets a lucky break. "I will let you know a safe range, unless you would rather drive out t'nowhere an'do your own. I know some of those places too."
"If I can teach Delia t'land a suckerpunch, I will consider it a success. Unless she somehow proves talented…" Little faith, it seems.
"Thank you." His head dipping down again, Ryans' words actually sound like he means it. "on both counts, and I'm sure you will do your best." A small smile ticks up one corner of his mouth.
"I have faith in you."