Ditcher - String Theory: Aftermath

Ditcher

Log Archive » Logs for November 2008 » Ditcher

Participants:

Scene Title	Ditcher
Synopsis	Kent and Gillian discover that they're still alive! Hooray.
Date	November 26, 2007

Thomas Jefferson Trailer Farm: Kent's Trailer

The last couple of days, since Peter Petrelli found her outside her work, Gillian hasn't reported to her job at the bowling alley. She called in sick from a payphone. According to the manager, no one came in asking about her, so she's hoping that no one figured out why she'd been in that area at all. It has more than a bowling alley, after all. Maybe she'd been going to the liquor store a block away. Could have been anything. This afternoon, things are different. She's left the apartment. Not to report into work, but to ride her bike over to a trailer park in Harlem, and find a specific trailer.

Outside the door she stands, hooded coat pulled up, scarf around the lower part of her face. Despite being heavily covered at the top, she's not wearing gloves on her hands, though she probably should be. The sleeves of her coat, just a little too big for her, hang the back of her hands, allowing for some heat. Not so when she brings her hand up and knock on the door. "You better fucking be here, Taxi."

It takes only a matter of seconds to get a response. There's not exactly much room in there to get through, and with a grinding, creaky sound, the door is pushed open. Kent isn't completely dressed for company, bare foot but otherwise dressed - jeans a little too big for him, a large, dwarfing wool sweater of mixed browns and tans. His hair is longer, scruffier - in fact, everything about him is a little bit rougher than before, a touch unshaven and a little thinner, Chinese coin pendant still hanging at his neck, now from a thin chain. But his eyes widen when he sees Gillian, looking startling youthful for a moment as pale eyebrows shoot up. "Gillian?"

There's some changes under the hood and above the scarf. For one, her eye makeup is almost non-existant at the moment. Before Gillian'd had thick lines of black around her eyes, emphasizing her lashes. There's a sound of exhale when the door opens, and when he recognizes her, but it's mostly kept in by the scarf. The scarf that she unravels after casting a quick glance around. Just a visitor, nothing to see here. "Yeah, it's me. Good to see no one got their hands on you. You'd be long gone by now if they did."

"That's true," Kent says, and then gives her an almost fluttery, awkward smile - but his eyes hold some anxiety. Looking up, the day is on its way towards becoming overcast, and he pushes the door open a little further. "Here, um, come in. You know, I looked for you, but the library— they said you stopped coming in altogether. I thought maybe… come in." The sentence diverts midstream, and Kent turns to move back into the trailer. It's about as empty as it had been before, with perhaps a few more items here and there. It's kept clean, although he does kick a pair of pants he'd abandoned on the floor off towards the corner.

Stepping inside, Gillian waits until the door is closed behind her before she lowers the hood and fully removes her scarf. The coat is opened up last, though not all the way, buttons undone so that it can hang open. With the hood down, he can see that more than her eyes have changed— her hair color has been lightened, closer to the original color. "Yeah, sorry about that. I kind of had to leave suddenly." The more that she reveals, the more it's easy to see that she's bruised in multiple places. Fading bruises, yellowish now. One around her neck, others visible on her face and head. "Ran into some trouble with those— you remember that guy with the scar at that crazy Evolved thing you ditched me after? People he works with. They caught up with me. I'm glad to see they didn't catch up to you."

A wince at the word 'ditched', Kent moving to sit down, and blinking up at Gillian through his glasses. "You're kidding," he says. "You mean after that happened? Oh, wow." A moment's pause, before he reaches towards a bag of cookies he has resting on a small fold-out desk/table. A notepad and writing tools are littered across it, along with a half-finished mug of instant coffee. Certainly more items here than there were before, but it's not quite lived in as it should be after all these months. He offers the cookie bag towards her - chocolate-chip - with a look of remorse. "I'm sorry. I just freaked out that night. It's hard to explain. I didn't mean to… leave you get up caught up by people."

There'd been a hint of a glare in here eyes when she said 'ditched', so the wince probably gives her some satisfaction. Gillian doesn't show it very long, though, due to something said. Or the cookies. One of the two. She reaches out to take a chocolate chip cookie before she says, "I wasn't attacked in the hopsital immediately after, or anything, so it wasn't because you ditched me. I don't know if it had anything to do with that incident at all. Half why I came to check on you. If it did, I figure they would have grabbed you too. Or tried." While she pauses, she takes a generous bite out of the cookie. "I was pissed at first. Thought about punching you to Jersey or something, but I get it, you freaked, probably for the same reason I can't go back to my job."

The bag is set down again once she's taken her share of cookie, and Kent gives a rueful chuckle, head ducking for a moment, fidgeting with the hems of his long sleeves. "I don't blame you," he says. "I'm kind of unreliable like that. Kinda figures I'd wind up being able to do what I can do, right?" His hand comes up to adjust ever present, frameless glasses, and his expression turns quizzical. "No, no one's been after me. I had some problems not so long ago when a couple of people saw me teleport and decided to gimme a hard time but it wasn't like. Secret agents or anything like the Flying Flamer and his sidekick Arwen. Just assholes."

"Assface. Though Flying Flamer is a good one, too," Gillian says softly, a hint of something deeper in her expression before she focuses on downing the rest of the cookie. There's now crumbs on her shirt and coat. "You did strike me as being the unreliable type," she adds, less jovial. It doesn't last too long, though. "I know you still owe me that drink, Taxi— a couple now, since I had to pay for a real cab to get home— But I can't stay long. Maybe I can stop by again some time at night. If you want to risk secret agents. Least with you I know I have a quick get away."

"Especially with you, we could wind up in Jersey in a blink," Kent says, with a half-smile. "For our sakes, I'll try and avoid Jersey, but you know what I mean. And sure, you can— I mean, if you want to, you can visit any time. Can't say I'll always be in, but…" In fact, it's good luck that she managed to catch him at all, considering the sheer amount of sightseeing he does.

It would seem, from the smile that graces her face, that's exactly what she wanted to here. As if Gillian just established something on her own. "Yeah, not Jersey. If that happens I'll just want away." Away would be the important part. Far, far away. "If I don't catch you, then I don't catch you, but I'll try to one of these nights." After a pause, she holds her hand out to him. "I do want to show you something, though. Just trust me and take my hand."

Pale eyebrows again rise in some cynical, and outside, thunder rolls as if it hadn't been a perfect fine day just a moment ago. "Ah, you sure?" Kent says, a hand up to brush his hair back in a nervous gesture, before standing. Just in case. If they do wind up disappearing to Jersey, he'd rather not fall on his ass in the process. Pulling back his sleeve, and with more confidence than he has, he clasps her hand. And winces, waiting for the once familiar montage of places to go flicking by.

The familiar montage never happens. Gillian squeezes his hand firmly, to show that what should be happening isn't— There's no glow to her hand, no glow in her eyes. Just her. "I learned how to control it." But she does extract her hand, though, for reasons that follow, "Most the time. Don't want to chance losing it right now. Just don't grab me by surprise and we can at least not worry about bumping into each other when we go to get that drink." That smile remains. She is obviously pleased at her accomplishment.

"Oh, wow," Kent says, looking down at his own hand as if that'd yield any information, then back at her. "That's really good. That you can control it now. Guess that means people won't go crazy around you unless you want them to." His hands retreat back into the over long sleeves of his sweater, folding his arms around himself. "I've been getting better, too. With my ability. I mean, it's still nothing in comparison to what I can do with you, but… getting there." Pause. "Maybe if we… chose a particular night and then I could make sure I was here and you could visit me then instead of a happenstance thing, we could get that drink."

"That's kind of the problem right now… I don't know when," Gillian says softly, though it's pretty obvious she's thinking about when. There's got to be a way she can swing this. "All right. How about a couple nights from now." She gives an exact night a moment later, after thinking about it. "I'll meet you here and we'll find a place to hang out while you buy me those drinks. Okay?"

"Dealio," Kent says with a brighter smile this time. "It's a— well. A thing. Great." He stands up from where he was perched. "I guess this is leading up to you take off again. If it is, thanks for— dropping by. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I— ditched you. Figures I'd screw over one of the few people in New York I'm not hating right now."

"It's a good thing we didn't see each other while I was still mad, then," Gillian says with that smile, though she's winding the scarf around her face again, covering up as much as possible. Only once the scarf is secure does she pull the hood up and button up her coat. It is time to go, before someone starts worrying about her. And she really doesn't want to drive home in the rain. She heard that thunder. "I am glad you're okay, Taxi. Stay out of trouble. And avoid those jackasses in the suits."

Kent watches the way she covers up her face, almost exotic but not completely strange, considering the weather, so he doesn't comment. "I'll see you soon," he says, moving to open the door of the trailer for her, just as a louder clap of thunder comes rolling in. "Jeeze. Be safe out there."

"See you soon," Gillian replies to the fairwell, before she steps outside and mutters up at the thunder, "Sky's being a bitch today." And with that, she heads off to her bike.