Dead 'n' Buried


lola2_icon.gif veronica3_icon.gif

Scene Title Dead 'n' Buried
Synopsis "Sam" meets the "Locksmith" at Mortimer's hide out, but has some theories as to who she really is.
Date February 13, 2010

Staten Island

A couple a grand for cracking a couple of shitty locks.

This is the kind of money her daddy taught her how to make.

Lola Mayeux, AKA Mary-Lou, AKA 'Southern Belle' seems to be having a grand time of it all. In the den of the locos, where she was able to let herself in, the woman seems comfortable and unafraid. Of course, some of Mortimer's men still loiter about, packing the few remaining things. A few chairs, a dartboard, a TV and some cheap booze are all that have to be moved now.

Aside, of course, for the stuff that's locked up.

That's where Lola is, in the man's bedroom with the door into the lounge open. She wears a striped long-sleeved shirt with a plain navy T-shirt over it and a pair of jeans and sneakers. Her faux-red hair is back in a loose ponytail. A bag rests beside her as she perches on her knees, ear pressed to the lock. With a loud click and a groan, it swings open. Inside is a few stacks of cash. Normally Lola doesn't touch Mortimer's stuff, but this time she'll make an acception as she begins tucking it into her bag, muttering something about a gratutity.

Veronica arrives, let in by the Locos manning the vault doors, dropping off a couple of pizzas she picked up on the way in. She has come and gone, listening to the gossip among the men and chatting a couple of times with Mortimer or Jack since she arrived the night before. She heads to his bedroom, seeing the door open, figuring he must be inside. She tilts her head as she watches the woman crack the lock and pull out money. "Now, Jack said there's a dark girl about who's the locksmith, but you aren't all that dark and you don't look like you're helping him all that much. Should I be worried?" Veronica, aka "Sam," asks, lounging in the door frame in her tight jeans, motorcycle boots and black leather jacket.

It's sort of an instinct for Lola to reach for the gun in her bag, although she keeps her movements hidden. A quick glance over her shoulder allows her to view what might become her target, if need be.

"Ah'm darker'n you are sugar," Well if that isn't a dripping, drowning rat of a southern accent coming off her lips. Still crouched, she turns, but keeps the bag there with her hand on the gun.

"Well now, didn' think old crazy Jack'd moved on. But lookie here, here ya'are - can't think of another reason 'ed want a girl 'round here 'cept for murderin' or screwin."

Veronica's hand is on her gun as well, though she smiles. "Look, I don't care if you steal from him. He ain't my boss yet, and he sure as hell isn't my boyfriend. Moved on? No. I'm not screwing him and since I'm alive, I don't think it's for murdering. But… would that make you his Southern Belle?" She asks, tossing her dark hair out of her eyes as her whiskey-brown eyes dart to the bag and back to the woman's face. "No reason to feel threatened. I'm just here for a place to stay 'til I figure out where I'm going next."

Well the change is sudden, and rather interesting. Lola takes out her gun - in plain view - but she doesn't lift it. Instead she tucks it into her pants, pulling the back of her shirt over it as she zips the bag and stands from her crouch, as if preparing to leave. But it's not just leave - it's got more the eseence of flee to it.

"Ah'm just the hired, sugar. Ask him if ya don' believe me. Three grand ta open all these little boxes he was smart 'nuff ta forget the digits to." And the gratuity, of course. "Why, what's he been' sayin' bout his belle? All Ah ever heard was she's all six-feet-under." Yes, Lola knows about what he calls her.

"Just that he's hung up on her and wants revenge," Veronica says, with a shrug. "I don't know. It's hard to follow what he says sometimes. I just know he said he's celibate for her, which I find pretty amusing. I mean, if someone's dead, what, you're supposed to not do the deed for the rest of your life? Seems a bit extreme to me." She nods to the other boxes in the room. "What all's in the boxes, besides that one with the money?" she asks curiously. "It's kinda creepy that he can't remember what he made once, don't you think? What's the weirdest thing you've found?"

Lola points with a jut of her chin.

"Weirdest thing's that right thar, first one Ah opened. Little puzzle box that kills ya fer solvin' it." She smirks, shaking her head. "Sugar Ah've known him awhile. He's crazy in his own way, but he ain' crazy like mad house crazy. Most a them folks can' function. Ol Jack kin function - he just chooses not ta." Lola adjusts the bag, but she can't help it - she's paranoid. She has to ask.

"What's all this 'bout revenge, now?"

"Says someone killed his Southern Belle and he wants to kill that person," Veronica says, with a shrug. "Sounds all right by me — I mean, if someone killed my boyfriend or whatever, I'd go after them, too, you know? That's not the crazy part I don't think. It's all these machines and shit that are crazy. But in a good way, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't be here if I thought he was crazy like Jack Nicholson in the Shining you know? I don't wanna be hacked up by an axe. I'm not educated, but I'm not stupid either." She shifts positions, leaning against the other side of the doorframe. "What's your name?"

"Mary Lou. If ya need anythin' lifted or opened or anythin' else a the sort, Ah'm yer girl. So long as ya do yer askin' real quiet like," Well that's certainly some kind of an introduction. Still prepared to flee, Lola has her bag over her shoulder. You know, just in case. "Leastways, ya ain' gotta worry much bout bein' hacked up. Jacky's other half ain' gonna let him pull somethin' like that, specially not unless yer, well, me." She chuckles at that, some secret joke. "So Ah 'magine it ain' savoryness that brings someone smart an uneducated round here."

"I'm Sam. Nice to meet you," Veronica says. "Oh? Mortimer doesn't like you? He told me he's not allowed to let Jack do anything to hurt you, so I guess he wouldn't be allowed to hurt you either in anyway. They're an interesting pair. Mortimer doesn't like me much, either, so maybe you and I have something in common." The company agent highly doubts that, but the persona she's playing might have something in common with 'Mary Lou.' "So what are you gonna do when you're done with all this locksmith stuff? Moving with them to Midtown or off on your own again?"

Lola shrugs lightly, the movement allowing sight of a little scar along her shoulder, but it's gone in an instant. "Like Ah said, sugar, Ahm just the hired. Ahm just the same as the fellah that cleans the carpets or…Ah dunno. Does the plumbin'. Come here, get mah wages, call me 'gain when ya need me. Although," Lola begins to wander idly, checking one of the nearest safes without letting Veronica out of her peripherals. Lola, it seems, is uneducated - but not stupid either. "Just havin' a place to crash? There's lotsa places ta do that, sug. How come yer in this one?" With Linderman possibly still looking for her, Lola is exceptionally suspicious.

"Ex boyfriend's pissed at me… the place I was staying here on the island's already evacuated, and I haven't set up somewhere across the water yet. Jack offered — I wasn't really expecting it, but free rent is free rent, you know?" Veronica says, keeping true to the various lies she's told Mortimer or Jack or both, in case any of them decide to compare notes. "I admit, his split mind is a little fascinating and creepy, but I've always been interested by things I shouldn't be. Maybe I just wanna sit around and watch a train wreck."

"SO long as ya don' get involved none," Lola advises, reaching down to pick up a dart that's been left haphazardly after one of her games with Jack. She toesses it, without looking up almost, and it lands in perfect center, after passing through the open doorway. "Gettin' involved in anythin' round here tends ta end pretty poorly. Either way, Ah gotta head back ta the mainland. Check the inbox, ya know?"

As Lola approaches, Veronica tucks both hands into her pockets and steps out of the way. "Why is it bad? You think he's gonna do something crazy? He told me he's over those days, but I could deal with some excitement. Not sure about blowing up buildings, but you know, something more than just hanging around watching his guys daytrade and eat doughnuts."

Lola shakes her head. "There's always more to it than what it seems like, but Ah don' mean just him. Staten, this place. Don' end well for nobody." She pulls her coat on tightly, nodding once more to the woman. "Far as Jack is concerned? He's not quite a free agent yet, but Ah'm sure he'll be soon nuff. Just sayin - ya never know what sorta strings ya get when ya pull on somethin."

Veronica arches her brows. "It doesn't sound like Jack'll consider himself free unless someone resurrects the Southern Belle, but I'm not really looking to pull those strings anyway, Mary Lou. I'm just looking for some fun and a place to crash, like I said." She waves. "Good luck on the mainland. Any message for the boss?"

"Yeah, actually. Tell 'im that the 'Southern Belle' is dead 'n buried, an he oughta know better than ta go round talkin' bout her," Lola says, sounding a little bristled. "Openin' old wounds and all a that, ya know?" With that, the southern female turns and heads out, using her own private passcode to do so.

Well, that's interesting. "Will do, miss," Veronica says, with a wave, heading over to the table she dropped the pizza on, reaching around #13 to grab a piece of pepperoni. "Have a good night."

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