Participants:
| Scene Title | Did You Mean It? |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A skeptic of Registration questions one of its spokespersons. |
| Date | August 28, 2010 |
The Orchid Lounge, owned by the mother of Senator Nathan Petrelli, is an Asian-inspired martini bar lit by candlelight and the soft glow of wall sconces spaced evenly throughout the room. Although there aren't any employees at the door to check for identification, it's unusual to find anyone in the college-aged crowd at the Lounge, which caters to young professionals with plenty of extra money to burn. During the day, the plush burgundy drapes affixed to the windows are used to filter out the sounds of traffic and at night are drawn back to allow passersby a glimpse inside.
Seating is simple: clusters of rectangular tables fashioned from white marble, each with two leather benches parallel to the longest sides. Silk pillows in varying shades of red, brown, yellow and orange lend a splash of colour to the Lounge, vivid against the pale walls and black-painted cement floor. On one wall is a giant mirror with an intricately carved frame that reflects almost everything in the room and makes the space appear twice as large as it really is. Clearly, the proprietor of this establishment wanted to get her money's worth — real estate in this part of town isn't cheap!
Since the new commercial aired for the Department of Evolved Affairs, Nadia's enjoyed a bit of celebrity status…though whether it's a good thing or a bad thing has yet to be determined by the Moroccan woman. Today was a day of baggy clothes, paint-covered jeans, oversized sunglasses, and wearing her hair up. It worked for the most part, and she avoided recognition.
Now, Nadia has decided to try and live up a little bit of the extra money she's come into from her recent time on the small screen. She's currently wearing a white cocktail dress that hangs just below her knees, with a black sash tied around her waist, and a pair of strappy black heels. Seated alone at a two-seater, she sips at some colorful martini drink, peering around almost anxiously.
After a long-ish week getting ready for the upcoming fall semester, most of Evan's department decided to come take a break here. That was two hours - and an average of two or three drinks per person - ago, and they're getting ready to head either back home or to a different bar offering live music.
Except Evan, who quietly excuses himself from the others as he spots a face he recognizes. "Hi, hope I'm not interrupting?" he offers, approaching Nadia's table with a little wave.
The girl blinks as Evan makes his way over, her brows raising. Nadia is silent for a moment as she peers up at Evan. Then, she offers a smile, albeit an uneasy one. "Oh…no, you're not interrupting." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking down at the table with a blush to her cheeks.
Evan leans against the back of a chair, not sitting yet, but glancing around to make sure he's not standing in the way of any other foot traffic. "The woman from the ad, right? I've heard a few students discussing it— thought maybe, if I could pick your brain for a few minutes, I might be able to offer them some better answers." He's a bit on the young end of the age range for teachers himself, but the group he was with earlier could easily fall into that category.
The girl blinks, her eyebrows raising as she stares up at Evan, running a hand through her hair a bit nervously. After a moment, however, she gestures to the other seat, offering an uneasy smile. "Sure…I don't know how good my answers will be. I mostly just read what they told me for the commercial." She runs a hand through her hair. "But I'll do my best. Ask away."
Nodding, Evan pulls the seat out and settles into it, considering. "Well, the part about non-Evolved especially is rubbing some of them the wrong way. I'll spare you the 'mark of the beast' rant and the 'Hitler made you show your papers' rant. I know it's not that bad." At least not yet. "Actually, most of them are just talking about it like it's another way for law enforcement to line its pockets, like having the police set up speed traps."
"Well…I could argue that it's a way to stop discrimination, but that would be lying." The woman sips at her martini, resting her elbow on the table, and her chin in her hand. "It's a way to ferret out more Evolved, partially. At the same time, the Evolved get to feel as if they're not being singled out. At least, the ones who go along with it will." Nadia tilts her head toward Evan. "The ones who aren't going to register anyhow won't register, and…well, things really won't change so much."
"Mmm, I kind of figured as much. If they've managed to stay under the radar this long, why change now?" Evan leans forward, resting his elbows near the edge of the table, as he studies Nadia's expression. "This is interesting— I naturally assumed you were in favor of the law yourself. If you aren't, then why help advertise it?"
"Well, I am registered. Have been since the Linderman act came into place." Nadia offers a small smile, leaning back in her east, her legs crossed. "And I do believe in Registration. Maybe my parent's imprinted that much in me." She smiles. "I believe that, while I can't help that I was born an Evolved, my ability is a very dangerous one, and I could hurt a lot of people with it."
Evan makes a sour face - there's still the open question about roping the non-Evolved into it - but he lets that pass. "I suppose they can't put a waiting period on your genetic code," he murmurs, deadpan. "Do you believe you're likely to hurt a lot of people with it— that it'll get out of control or something? I suppose a gunman or a telepath could try to misuse it, but they could do that to a lot of things."
"No. I don't think I'm likely to do anything to hurt a lot of people with my ability. I do my best to learn to control it. But there are circumstances where I can't garuntee my control over my ability. Adrenaline, pain, panic, all those things can prompt a loss of control." Nadia finishes off her martini, setting it down with a soft smile. "Then again…I'm really not the best authority to ask on these things. I mostly smile and read the lines they give me."
With a shrug, Evan nods, moving back in preparation to rise to his feet once again. "Well, I guess we all have to pick somewhere to draw the line… or the grayish smudge, more like. Thanks for sharing your side of things, it really does help." Then he blinks once, as something else clicks for him: something he overlooked when he was just watching her on a TV screen. Seeing someone in person really does make a difference sometimes. "And watch out for groupies packing heat, all right? I don't think last month's incident was the last time we'll see that sort of thing."
The woman shakes her head. "I try to be careful. I'm not defenseless, thankfully." She offers a warm smile up to Evan, raising a hand to offer to him. "I'm Nadia, as you probably already know from the commercial. It was nice to talk to you." She chuckles softly. "And thank you, by the way, for your concern." A charming smile, just like on TV, is offered up to the man.
"Evan. You too." His smile is a little cooler, but polite enough. He returns the handshake briefly, then makes his way toward the exit— though not before leaving enough cash on the table to cover Nadia's last round. Or her next one, depending.