Participants:
| Scene Title | Damn Y Chromosomes |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Boys are stupid, and Lizzie is not willing to put up with that. |
| Date | July 19, 2011 |
Skinny Brickfront, Endgame Safehouse
The trip back to the safehouse after making sure to be seen bolting from Harve Brennan takes a lot longer than usual to the extreme roundabout nature of their travel… and it's accomplished in silence. Or rather, silence. Elisabeth's mood is one of caution and wariness to be sure they're not followed, and she speaks to Devon only to offer directions, and even then only when absolutely necessary. The only giveaway to how bad it's going to be when they get back is the low-level rumble that she struggles to contain within a personal space bubble their entire trip. It's like trying negate herself, and it's difficult.
As they gain the relative safety of the skinny brickfront's main living quarters, though, Elisabeth expands the 'bubble' of silence around into the room's dimensions, giving herself more space. And things in the room start rattling. The bass rumble thrums through the floors causing the construction spools that the group uses as tables to vibrate some. Plaster trembles to the floor from a few loose spots in the wall. And still, Elisabeth says nothing.
It wasn't a pleasant trip back. It hurt and the teen felt half sick with it and fear. The few times he'd looked at Liz put a tight knot in his gut and kept him from trying to speak much at all. More than just injured, Devon knew he was in trouble. He didn't complain though, he didn't dare complain, but made himself continue following Elisabeth, granting her space and keeping to his own, despite a longing to stop moving, to simply lay down. The impulse is even denied once he's followed her into the safehouse.
He can't stop from leaning against a wall after entry, the boy's lips pressed into a firm line and arms folding over his chest. Briefly. He doesn't make himself stand upright again, but his arms fall away within the moment of expanding vibrations. Devon looks at Elisabeth, brows furrowed with worry. He's afraid, and it's reflected in his expression, but he doesn't move from the wall or say anything in his defense.
"Sit down before you fall down," the blonde audiokinetic tells him. Her tone holds concern. She heads into the makeshift kitchen area and she starts putting together a sandwich and rummaging around for orange juice that Jaiden brought in last night. She makes no attempt to hide the rattle and rumble now that we're here, but it doesn't sound like she's about to go explosive… at least… well, as far as Devon can tell. But then again, does he know her well enough to decide that? "I want you to get some calories into you," she says as she brings the quickly made sandwich over. "The juice will help your blood sugar, the sandwich will help replenish the carbs. After you eat, hit the bedroll and don't get up until dinner. I'll bring some bananas and some water in for you to snack on this afternoon." Her tone is tight. She clearly has other things to say but she's continuing to bite it back.
Devon does expect her to go explosive. Perhaps not in a superpower way, but he's anticipating something more than just instruction. He pushes away from the wall and maneuvers himself into a chair, clenching his jaw as he lowers himself and settles into the seat. One arm is folded over his middle, hand resting near his side. "Yes ma'am," he responds, head lifting when Elisabeth returns. The sandwich is taken and given a look. "I'm sorry," the teen continues. The sandwich is turned over then placed on a knee. "I thought… I don't know."
The problem is not evident outside of the main common area of the safe house, except to a certain few. Elisabeth's furious. Beyond furious, really. And subverting that much emotion, it has nowhere to go but her ability. And the entire common room is rumbling, rattling, and things are shaking. She's got it contained well enough with a manipulation of the soundwaves to keep them reflected back in her own direction at the walls, but it's the only containment she can manage. She needs that much room to vent silently.
"You're sorry," the blonde muses in a tight tone. "What exactly are you sorry for, Devon? Before we get into this, I'd like to be sure we're on the same page. Are you sorry that I'm pissed, or are you sorry that you did something beyond stupid?"
"Both," Devon begins, then amends by shaking his head. "All of it. Putting you at risk, doing… getting shot. That you're pissed." His gaze ticks up briefly, not looking in hope that he's said the right things, but to show the honesty of his response. The acceptance of responsibility. He breathes out slowly, gaze returning to the sandwich on his knee.
Her voice is still low, but her emotions are clear. "You didn't fucking put me in danger, Devon. You put you in danger." Elisabeth's voice cracks with the attempt to keep her rage in check, more things clattering as it subverts into the bass rumbling. "I am a fucking cop!" She can't help the voice raising. "Do you think I was an incompetent cop? Did it even remotely occur to you that five years of hostage negotiation training, more than a decade as a cop, and two years of this life might just maybe put me in a position to know exactly how the hell to handle a fucking mundane stick-up?" she demands. "Without anyone getting hurt??"
Soft footsteps bring the telepath down the stairs, barely audible…especially beneath the sounds of Liz's shoutings. Remi was first drawn by the angry buzzings of thought, and then the shouting. Wearing a pair of well-fitting jeans and a black t-shirt with a coat of arms splayed across the front, with a simple line that reads 'Winter is Coming', she pauses in the doorway, blue eyes flitting from Liz to Devon.
For now, she simply listens. It's not her place to step in on this argument.
Devon's eyes tick up when her voice cracks. He looks shaken, afraid. "No that's—" he tries to interject once into Liz's argument, quietly and without much force behind it. He hadn't given thought to the audiokinetic's prior training nor of the possible consequences. He doesn't notice Remi's presence as his head bows again, remaining quiet until the blonde has finished speaking. "I just saw a guy pointing a gun at you and reacted when I saw an opening," he offers. Even out loud it sounds a poor excuse to the boy's ears.
"And that is what damn near got you killed," Elisabeth spits out. "If you had a fucking forcefield or something, that would be one thing. What you did? That was pure adrenaline and no brains. I don't need a protector. I don't need people to jump in front of bullets for me." Her jaw clenches, and then she tries very hard to modulate her tone. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm a grown woman with a lot of experience at facing down guns, Devon. Do you understand that … you are mine? If you'd gotten killed protecting me when I didn't need it, I don't think I would have ever recovered. You have a life ahead of you. Don't be so goddamn eager to throw it away." Her jaw clenches and Elisabeth looks away, noting Remi in the doorway. The soundwaves move around her, so Liz knew someone was there, but she's too wound up to really care much. "Hi," she greets finally, blue eyes skimming the dancer — some part of her is just waiting for Remi to interject somewhere in here, and if it happens it's pretty clear that Elisabeth will lose it altogether. She's barely holding her reactions in check at this moment.
A slow nod is offered to Liz as she greets Remi, the dark-haired dancer brushing a strand of hair away. "'Ello." She peers quietly for a moment, glancing between Liz and Devon for a moment. Then, with another small nod, she slips past the arguing pair, making the kitchen her destination. That's also part of the reason she came down here. To get some food. Even so, she's listening. She's always listening. She's just trying to be…quiet about it, these days.
Fear gives way to shame rather easily. Devon doesn't regret getting between Liz and that gun so much as he does the outcome. In guilt, he looks up and begins to speak. The words fail, not for Remi's appearance, noted when she crosses his field of vision, but further apologizing seems lacking for the situation and there's nothing about his actions to justify.
When he has nothing else to say for himself, Elisabeth turns her blue eyes back on the teen. Her expression is grim. And she shakes her head, finally walking over to hug the boy. "Stupid fucking Y chromosome. The whole damn lot of you are born stupid," she murmurs, hiding the tears of stress in his hair and she kisses the top of his head. "You ever pull something like that again, I swear to God, Devon… I will do something drastic and awful to you."
The telepath keeps to herself, quietly making sounds of preparation in the kitchen. The water kettle is put on to heat up, and she sets about preparing three cups of tea, quietly listening as she focuses on her task. But still she listens, to both sounds and to the minds. It's getting easier, but she's developed a healthy loathing for touching people.
At least she's been cured of her lechery, for the most part.
"Sorry," Devon murmurs again, unintentional but no less contrite. He leans into the hug, the one arm not holding his stomach and side lifting slowly and carefully to return it. His head nods in acceptance to the threat, not for a minute believing it an idle one. Drawing his arm back from its reach is another slow process, the intense ache it produces hidden in a glance toward the kitchen then settled on his yet untouched sandwich.
Elisabeth breathes in and lets the stress finally begin to dissipate. Her body is less tense, her eyes closed for a long moment. And then she releases the teenager and says gruffly. "Eat. You need some rest." The rumble in the room finally subsides to a gentle buzz. She's easing away from the edge of explosive. Regaining something approaching 'normal' is harder, but she walks toward the kitchen to get herself some coffee.
Liz is met by Remi, holding a platter with three tea cups on it, filled with piping hot tea. She blinks a few times, peering at the audiokinetic from behind the tray, before offering it toward her. "Some tea? It sounds like it may be needed." She casts a glance toward the door, peering over at Devon with questioning eyes. Then, she turns back to the blonde woman, brows raising slightly. The look the telepath wears can best be described as apologetic.
The sandwich doesn't hold much interest, but Devon takes a bite from it. His eyes slant toward the two women in the kitchen, saying nothing, keeping his energy and thoughts focused on just following instructions. It's probably known by now that some information or experiences he doesn't give up easily to most people. The sandwich comes up again to have another bite torn from it while he watches Liz and Remi.
Elisabeth takes the cup of tea, and she nods tightly. "Thanks," she says softly. "So… Devon got hurt a bit, and if you don't mind checking in on him this afternoon while he naps, I have a couple things that need to be done." She pauses. "After tea."
Concern replaces the apologies in Remi's eyes, and she offers a slow nod. "Oui, I can do zat." She tilts her head to one side. "If you need to talk…" She lets the rest go unspoken, another nod bobbing her head. One hand snakes out from beneath the tray, long enough to gently touch Liz's shoulder for but a brief second, as more of a gesture of worry than an attempt to glean information.
Then, regardless of if she sees anything or not, she turns, making her way over to Devon and crouching next to him, offering up the tray. "'Ave some tea, oui? It will wash ze sandwich down well." A faintly comforting smile forms on her face.
Any other time, the teen might have scoffed at needing to be checked on. Another time he might still. But for this afternoon, Devon's response is to finish off the sandwich. He brushes a hand over his jeans, no longer watching the two in the kitchen. So that he seems almost surprised when the telepath appears in front of him. The boy glances toward Liz at the offer of tea as though asking her permission to accept, then reaches out to take one of the remaining cups for himself after that brief pause.
When he reacts that way, Elisabeth rolls her eyes. She sets her tea cup down and walks back through, ruffling his hair. "Rest. Relax. Make sure you don't tear your stitches open cuz Brennan will fucking kill us both." Her tone is dry and affectionate. "I'll be back in a bit." And she slips out to find a shower full of hot water where she can hide from everyone the harsh, wracking sobs that tear through her at the thought that the fool boy almost got himself killed for her today.
The telepath offers another smile to the teenager, taking the last tea cup and sipping at it as she raises back up to her feet. Her leg has healed nicely since the nearly debilitating accident with Sylar four months back, and sometimes the soft thumps of her feet on the floor above can be heard as she practices her dancing, though she hasn't taken her performances out of the privacy of her room just yet.
Blue eyes turn toward Elisabeth, watching as she leaves, before turning back to the boy with a knowing gaze.
The tea is offered the same regard as the sandwich, though Devon does move to sip at the liquid within. He pauses at the touch to his head, eyes lifting to follow Liz until she's hidden behind a door. Guilt and concern are plain in his expression, knowing the fear and stress he'd put the audiokinetic under. Nearly he gets up to follow, though what more he could offer isn't clear. Maybe simply keeping himself under her watch. He relents for the moment with a sigh and glances toward Remi.
"I don't want to talk right now," the boy tells her expression, more than the dancer herself. Childish, maybe. He gulps down the tea and returns the cup to the tray. Wincing, sucking in a breath against the tremor of pain in his side, Devon gets himself standing again, nearly upsetting the camp stool and himself in the process. "Going to go lay down now. Thanks for the tea, Remi."
Sipping her tea, Remi nods quietly. "Oui. I will check on you in an hour or so. If you need anything…well, you know." She shrugs her narrow shoulders quietly, blue eyes watching as Devon goes to leave. "Rest well." She won't push him to talk. She's done her best to become the silent watcher. They don't like knowing that she's in their heads, so she won't tell them as much.
A glance is sent in the direction Liz had gone once more, before Devon looks back at Remi. He nods his thanks before he sets off to find some quiet room to stick himself in. It's a slow departure, not sulking nor reluctant, one hand remaining wrapped around his middle and holding his side. A final glance is spared for the telepath, once again hesitant, before he disappears into a presently unused room. Hopefully he'll find a few moments of sleep or some form of rest.