Doesn't Belong Here


brian_icon.gif delia_icon.gif delilah2_icon.gif koshka_icon.gif sable_icon.gif



Scene Title Doesn't Belong Here
Synopsis Discoverers and friends converge to decide what's to be done with a box from the future.
Date April 10, 2010

Eltingville Blocks - Brian's Residence

A 'pop' is made obnoxiously loud with his lips.

It's early morning now. The morning has been relatively quiet at the Winters house. Both occupants kind of taking it easy due to their injuries. Brian agreed that today would be a fantastic day for Koshka to fake sick at school. Or maybe even go later on in the day. All the better to hide those wounds for when she actually goes back.

Koshka had made breakfast since for the most part, Brian isn't moving a whole lot. With visitors set to come over this morning, the living room has been made to look as presentable as possible. Which isn't very. Still it has a distinct 'Brian' flair. Salvaged decorations, ratty furniture. Brian's mattress has been pulled into the living room, probably by KOshka and Ernesto. And it's where Brian remains still for the most part. Only leaving really to go to the bathroom. Which is really painful and annoying.

5t The young man's bed is posted next to the coffee table. The pictures have been leaned up against a few books on the coffee table so that Brian can survey them easily. His eyes flicking to the treehouse and back to the picture of Calvin. Finally resting on Gillian.

A light sigh is let out. He raises his voice a little in order to catch Koshka, wherever she is. "Sam call yet?"

A fair amount of work had been done by the teenager, mostly in silence, with only the occasional look to the neighbor Ernesto. He's since gone off to his own home, leaving Koshka to finish salvaging glasses of water alone. Faking sick was already on her mind when it was suggested, though she remained a little worried over the repercussions of skipping. Staying up most of the night as well as the burns and the railroad tie of a needle that had been jammed into her calf were excuse enough to not want to make that walk.

"No," Koshka replies as she carries an armload of filled glasses to the table, the vessels cradled and pressed against her upper body with arms and hands to prevent spillage. "If she's smart she's sleeping and letting the older kids play with the babies. When are they suppose to be here?" The question comes as glasses are set down, mindful of their proximity to the pictures.

There's nothing more disconcerting than a strange Hispanic man knocking at your back door in an area where raids tend to occur at any time of the day or night. After shooing Tania from the windows, Delia cautiously made the acquaintance of Brian's breadwinner which is how she finds herself at the doorstep now. With her borrowed dogs on leashes wrapped around one forearm, trusting that they won't spot something chaseable and tears it off, the redhead's hands are full of gift basket. It's a good thing she got paid, aside from a couple of new outfits, the rest was spent on burn ointments and a small gift for Tania. She's such a good girl.

Figuring Brian isn't in the best shape for answering doors, after a quick knock Delia pushes it open. Rhett, who is not as good and obedient as Tania, skitters inside, sniffing and pulling at his leash while his borrowed owner wrestles him back. "B-Brian? It's Delia— Are you in here? Can I come in?" By this time Cheza has joined the other dog and is pulling Delia inside without invitation. Between a german shepard cross and a half wolf, one thin young woman really doesn't have a chance. "Sorry! Sorry!! I have gifts!!"

It resembled more a waterlogged rat than a significant other, but it was Sable in truth that Delilah let in through the front door last night, drenched by the storm and clutching a box to her chest like Gollum would the Ring. And yes, if Led Zeppelin made Tolkien references, so might Sable in the course of her indirect discourse. Once inside, drying if not dry, warming if not warm, Delilah heard the whole story. The house in the woods, and the robots and Koshka's bravery and Brian's damn fool craziness. And the box.

There was time to pour through the contents before Sable scurried back into the unclemency outside - with a raincoat this time - to carry the box to Brian's. Just to see if Brian was alive. And, if living, to let him have a gander at their strange spoils. By the time Sable arrives back home, she has barely dodged curfew's curtain, and she is almost too dog tired to remember to show Delilah the things she kept for herself. The picture of young mother, just a little older. The mysterious music. The CD - Song for Magnes. And what that means.

Early morning is the soonest they can converge without risking erratically policed Eltingville night. Sable still looks exhausted from the adventure of the day before, and it's not like it was easy to get to sleep, no matter how drained her body was, with her mind trying to account for all these strange found fragments. Still, she manages an easy enough smile as she spots Delia already entering the house, and rushes forward to catch the door before it swings closed, holding it open for Delilah with a low bow.

Leaving Samson at home to literally guard the place happens more often than not, including this morning, no matter how much he was trying to come with them. Perhaps the night of distress from Sable got to him. His climbing into bed with them the night before also makes sense when you think of it that way. Between Samson in the way and things to think about, neither of them got enough sleep. Regardless, Dee has to muscle through it in the morning, gathering up Walter and Sable for the excursion. From one redhead to another, Dee almost does not recognize that head of hair going in the door before them; it takes her a few moments to remember the young woman she was helping before, but she does.

"Oh, you're such a ham." Dee's voice carries easily, punctuated by the baby on her chest letting out a curious noise at the sounds and sights of dogs when his mother goes inside, skirt swishing. He loves dogs! But neither of them are Samson, so there's gonna be some dubiousness on Walter's part. "It's a regular party up in here, isn't it? Coulda brought you all some get well pie." Best medicine, right?

"Deebag." Brian says quietly, as Delia makes her way into the house. He frowns lightly at the dogs. Craning his head back on his pillow supports. "Kosh. People are here." He lets out in a croak. Glancing over Delia's shoulder. He smiles quietly at the two women entering behind the first redhead. And then immediately looks down at the coffee table. Where the gravestone rubbing for 'BETH RYANS' still rests. "Koshka." Brian says, a little alarm in his voice. "People. Are. Here." Hopefully that communicates the message he wants to. Leaning forward some, Brian winces. His hand flings forward at the books propping up all the documents and pictures. The book are slapped over to hide the evidence before he's smiling gently once again at the three newly arrived women.


The knock already has Koshka's attention, drawing her gaze toward the door. And the dogs. And the people. That rubbing is swept up as she turns back to the table, letting out a startled and insulted "Ow" as books fall on her hand. Still, she has that rubbing and, after a curious glance at dogs and women and baby, carries it off to the bedroom to hide it amongst her school books.

A moment later she appears again, closing the bedroom door behind her with a gentle click. Hands go to rest in her pants pockets as she shuffles back to the living room. Curious eyes lift up to the newcomers, a shy sort of standoffish expression that at least two present might recognize.

Coming into the living room after the scramble is finished, Delia's eyebrow rise a little and she gives a straight tight lipped smile. "Hey Brian, I uhm… I brought you a bunch of stuff to help you out." She places the basket down on top of the table and unravels the leashes from her arm. Cheza ambles over to the matress and curls up at Brian's feet, laying her head down on her front paws. Rhett, on the other hand, is too interested in baby to settle. He nudged at the tiny boy's feet, tickling them with his cold wet nose. "Rhett, be good."

"Hi, I'm Delia," she greets the young teen, "I'm uhm… I live down by the bay." Where the watermelons grow~. She kneels at the side of the table and begins unpacking the basket, laying out the burn creams and a few bottles of different powders.

Sable lifts her face to flash Delilah a remorseless smile as she passes, and it takes a epic effort on her part not to goose Dee in retaliation. They're guests, though, and Sable doesn't want to be someone you can't take places. She closes the door after herself when she steps inside, sidling into the home and lifting a hand in greeting to Brian. "Yo," she offers, "y'all look good f'r a man gets affectionate with walkin' skillets."

The yellow eyed girl gives Rhett a vigorous scratch behind the ears, dipping over to block the dog's view of Walter for a contrary moment, before leaning back into a straight if slightly slouching stand. "Hey, gal," is for Delia, whom Sable is familiar with. Koshka receives a finger pistol. "Fuckin' marksman here," she goads, followed by the considerably more considerate, "how's yer hip, hon?"

Ah, but there's the box. Sable gives the hard won package and its distributed contents a wary look. "Figure people gotta know 'bout this. Our people. This gotta be somethin', 'cause it sure as hell ain't nothin'."

Walter peers down, having enough mind to kick his little canvas shoes and make some sort of inquiry to the mutt down below. Not Samson, but he'll do, apparently. Delilah gives Delia a finger wave as she pauses for Rhett to see Walter, standing aside with one hand on the baby in his wrap seat. She follows after a moment of inward mulling, putting a wispy smile on her face. For posterity, really. "Hey Brian."

"Lookin'good, stud." It's a bit of a tease, for old times' sake. "Heard y'all got into some cat terminator shit." It's still serious, for what it's worth.

"Yeah it didn't say HOT SURFACE on it. So I didn't know. I think I'm going to sue the manufacturers." Brian murmurs giving a gentle smile up to Delilah. He motions to the couch not too far from his mattress. "Have a seat. Please. I'd get you all something to drink but." He looks down at himself. Before glancing up to Koshka. "Would you mind getting everyone something?" He gives a light smile before looking back to Sable. "Thank you. That's very nice of you to say." He frowns down at the dogs. But shrugs a little. He's in no position to drive dogs out.

"Thanks Deebag." He says brightly. Looking over to Delia's presents. "Anyways. Yeah. Some people should know. But we need to be careful. This is obviously like time travel, you know? So. We need to be careful. Or at least a little is time travel. I don't even fucking know. But we have to be careful alright? We can only leak this to people we know we can trust."

"I'm Koshka," the teenager says quietly, replying to Delia and offering a small wave. Sable is granted a half hearted grin. Which falters and turns a little ashamed with a glance at the proverbial owner of the house. "Better off than Brian." Shoulders raise and fall into a shrug and a hand waves to the cups of water already set out. She's way ahead of the game. "Help yourself everyone."

The teenager edges her way around the table, sitting on the floor to the side opposite the couch with legs stretched out in front. "But who should know? And… who shouldn't?"

Looking a little lost on the subject, Delia gives an uncertain glance toward Brian as she measures out some of the powders and mixed them onto a slip of paper. She folds another into a cone shape and spills the mixture into it then passes it to the injured patient on the mattress. "Here, this'll help the pain. Just a few ground up herbs and stuff… You can make it into a tea." Then like a squirrel on a little too much speed, she changes rails in her train of thought and focuses on the box.

"What— Time travel in the box? What are you… Did you find a way out or something?" The kneeling redhead is obviously more than a little confused. Absently passing one of the tubes of cream toward Brian, she taps the instructions with one finger as she looks at Sable for an explanation.
From afar, Ygraine scritches, and goes to pass out.

Sable ambles over to the couch, though she waits for Delilah to sit down first, a weird archaic formalism she picked up or conceived who knows where. She tips forward to grab some water, then thinks better of it, falling back onto both heels.

"Figure its our mutual-type friends, best served t' see this," the yellow eyed girl fields, "kick it up t' th' brass. At th' very least mebbe they c'n see this all goes t' who- like… owns it?" though exactly who is that? Is association ownership? "Or at least whoever's got t' know 'bout them, folks that are involved."

"And," she adds, "sure as fuck this has t' do with these dreams folks been havin'. I dunno if y'all have had one of these things, vivid 's anythin', some 'f 'em shared, all 'f 'em sorta seemin' t' fit t'gether. This shit," she nods towards the box, "got somethin' t' do with it. CD I found - I know what it's for," though she doesn't particularly want to invoke what that is, "'cause I dreamed- I sorta dreamed whatall inspired it," is as specific as she's getting, and her expression darkens visibly, head hanging a little, upset taking on the outward appearance of surliness.

Delilah settles down on the couch that Brian gestures at, the baby boy in her lap giving the young man on the mattress a lookover. He is only interuppted when his mother picks him up and puts him down in Sable's lap, once she is getting that stormy, darkened look on her face. A cure for what ails her. Sable needs him more than Dee does at the moment.

"I wish there was someone in the city like that. I hate to bother them, you know?" Because the Island has its own troubles, does it need theirs too? "They might have to do with the dreams, but that isn't my- area." Cough, cough.

"I'm wondering if we should make copies of things, mostly."

Brian gives a dazed look from Koshka to the water. Oh. And then he finally lets out. "Sorry." Brian murmurs a delayed response from hitting a book on her hand. He gives a pleased smile to Delia. "Thanks." He murmurs lazily. "I love tea." Anyways. He shakes his head a little bit to Delia. "We.. We found something." Brian shakes his head. "I don't exactly trust everyone in the 'brass', Sable. Noah Bennet is not to be trusted for one." He drolls out flatly. He looks up at Sable with a contemplative look before back to Delilah. "Hey little Walter." He mumbles with a light smile. "It's good to finally meet you. I would shake your hand but.." He shakes his little burnt hand.

Brian gives Delia a square look before looking to Koshka. "Kosh. Get her the rubbing." He shrugs lightly against the mattress. "She ought to see. Here. Look at this picture." His fingers point round a bout of the picture of four adults and one child. The one labeled Kasha, Lance, Noa, Juniper, Joe. "Tell me that guy does not look like Lance. And that woman? Labelled as Kasha? I know her. Delia! You know her. She was the gardener. At the corinthian."

Koshka gives Brian a look, certainly disagreeing with his idea. The rubbing itself is creepy enough, showing it off, showing it to someone whom he says shares the same surname? With a sigh, she hauls herself upright and wordlessly moves toward the bedroom to recover the rubbing. It's only a couple moments later that she reemerges from the bedroom with the preserved paper in hand.

Koshka looks warily at Delia and then Brian as she approaches the table again, a slowness to her step not entirely from the injuries she'd taken. A glance goes to Sable and Delilah before she holds the rubbing out for Delia to see. A paper, preserved to a characteristic waxiness, the rubbing upon it done in red crayon of a grave marker reading BETH RYANS - April 12, 2012 - January 18, 2013.

"They're not dreams," Delia interjects quietly, picking up the photo to examine it. "They're not dreams, they're memories that don't belong here. That's what Hokuto said anyway, Mister Gataullin said he felt them but he didn't approach. Kaylee's collecting them, she has a whole orchard." She pauses as she stares at the picture, her jaw hanging open just a little bit before it clicks shut and she nods to Brian. "It's her, Cash from the Corinthian. She's a smart lady." Smart enough to give Brian apology flowers ahead of time.

She moves the book to bring a few more of the photos into view and her eyebrows furrow at the sight of Calvin. "Th— Hey!! That's the guy that saved my life on my birthday!! The clairvoyant guy that told me I was going to die if I went home." The photo is replaced but none of the others are picked up as Delia's eyes fall on the rubbing and she gives an audible swallow. "W-we.. take pictures.. copy everything and send them to Kaylee. All the originals… uhm… we… should give them to the people they belong to. This is my— my daughter."

Walter is regarded with a certain skepticism. 'Whaddya want?', reads Sable's expression. She squints a bit. "'n' where 'r' you in all this, eh?" she inquires. Walter, sadly isn't telling. Interrogating an infant does seem to elevate Sable's mood a bit. She offers Walter an arm wrestle with her finger. She smiles a little, listening to Delia talk like dreamy people must talk, rather liking the imagery she's using - 'orchard' is a nice one - but not necessarily following. Brian's contestation over the submission of the box to the powers that be is accepted with similar non-comprehension. Noah Bennet? Sounds familiar. Probably not a punk ruck drummer, though? No? Yeah she- she didn't think so.

But a rubbing of an infant's gravestone is sort of a buzzkill. Sable hadn't made anything of the rubbing when she saw it - she hadn't even assembled the letters into readable words in her mind. What it is, what it means… "Shit-" she says, her hand going to touch lightly against the jutting edge of a CD case in her pocket, "well- I don't got no damn intention 'f seein' whatall we're seein' t' come t' pass. So however it is we figure out how t' stop this from happenin'- however it is, that's what I want th' box t' go t'wards."

Memories? What Delia says seems to unsettle Delilah just a tad, as she seems to go over what she's heard about and what dreams she herself had. A sigh escapes her, and having already looked through and recognized some of it, she watches Delia with a vague interest to see how she takes it. Surprisingly well. Walter latches onto Sable's finger, only to try and stick it in his mouth. Ask him all you want, he pleads the fifth!

"There's an idea." Dee remarks on the part about giving things to the people to do with them. "Makes sense, if something is going on with those …memories?" She is still tentative about the idea. "If we're being shown all of this stuff, it has to be for a reason, like Sable says…"

Brian twists his lips. Peering up at Delia. His head falls back into the pillow as he closes his eyes for a moment. He bares his teeth for a moment. "I'm sorry Deebag. It.. It doesn't have to happen." Winters lets out giving a consoling smile up to her. Brian's tender arms adjust on the couch for a moment, shifting somewhat.

"How do we even get it out? We could show like.. Eileen. But.. I don't know. You've got to be careful with shit like this. This shit doesn't go anywhere near Richard Cardinal? Alright everyone? That guy is already trying to control the world and the future and all that shit. He's going crazy." He shakes his head. "Alright so.. Who's is what? Then? You want me to go up to Crazy Calvin and give him this weird picture of himself?"

"Who's Kaylee," Koshka asks, the hand holding the rubbing lowering back to her side. "And why give her copies of things?" She turns slightly, taking in the proper adults with a single look. "And if we're giving stuff back, we should give it back to the house we found it at. Someone lives there, or did before we went out there and accidentally got it trashed. He's probably way beyond pissed."

Beginning with the grave stone rubbing, Koshka begins putting things carefully back into the box. "If we return it, he probably won't be too mad. And… we might even get more answers than just trying to figure it out on our own." She pauses, glancing up at the others as though maybe, possibly, she said something wrong. Then, setting a frown to her features, she resumes packing the box. "This doesn't belong to the people in the pictures, it belongs to whoever lives or lived in that house."

Shaking her head, Delia reaches out and lays a soft hand on Brian's shoulder. "I know Bri, I'm just scared that it will no matter what I do… That the only way to stop it from happening is to not have her at all." That means giving it up for longer than just Lent. The rubbing is eyed until Koshka covers it completely with photos and then Delia's lips purse together into a tight lipped frown. Twisting her head to the side, she stares at the arm of the couch, blinking rapidly. The strobe-like effect keeps her from crying as much as keeps her distracted for a moment or two.

"You're wrong, everything in that box might have belonged to whoever you took it from but it doesn't belong here any more than the dreams do. It's a warning, just like visions before the riots. We can either do something about it now or we can tuck it under the rug and pretend it never happened. Mister Gataullin and I are going to look for the dreamer, if it's the person that owns that box, we'll find him or her and we'll tell him or her that we have it."

Oh, see, um, Sable isn't really keen on giving up what she's got. Koshka's assertion, even after Delia's amendment, makes Sable's lips twist to one side, a look both stubborn and a little guilty - quite the face when your having her finger gnawed on. Sable gives Walter yet another look, conspiratorially suspicious, as if concerned he'll sell her out. For now she remains strategically silent, the somberness of the topic and the seriousness of the discussion excellent pretext for her not to get involved. She has her own temporal experiments, and a belief in her own destiny that may need to be served in a certain secrecy. She nods, tacitly affirming what Delilah has said; Dee's become a very adept translator.

"No, Brian." Don't act so drugged up. "Not in that case. We keep the ones that can't be placed." Delilah talks as if he were ten years younger than he is. "Delia's right. I'd rather we do something about it, like we did with the visions last. It changed everything." Walter sits back, playing with Sable's hand and looking up once in a while to see if she is paying attention to him. Proper attention, not halfway! Never that.

"Whether or not its something with a timeline, there's something happening that we gotta see to. Koshka- Kaylee is a friend of ours that has been pooling information on the dreams we've been having. So if this has to do with that, it might do to show Kay too."

"I doon't like Kaylee. Or trust her." Brian grumbles. Slapping his head to his forehead. "I'm keeping the Crazy Calvin picture. I'm doing some investigation on that guy." Winters grumbles quietly, eyes closing for a moment. His eyes flutter open as he looks distractedly at Sable. Is someone fighting. He's not totally sure. His head rolls to the side. "Don't take the picture of Kasha either.. Please." He gives a lazy smile. Eyes closing for a moment.

If he could hold Delia's hand, he would. But it would hurt like fuck. So he doesn't. "Deebag.. Don't worry. We can change this shit. If we work together and play this smart. We can stop all this shit."

"Explain to me how finding a dreamer that you don't even know is the owner of the box," Koshka asks, clinging to her own resolution, "is any different than going back to the house and hopefully finding the person living there? At least in my idea we're a lot more certain that he or she is the owner of the box. It could be a warning, could be someone got lost time traveling too. But shouldn't we consider all our options for getting all the possible answers and not just the fancy ones?"

"Furthermore," Koshka states as she straightens, arms folding across her chest. "Just because you don't agree with my suggestion doesn't make me wrong. And it doesn't make the idea I have wrong either. It can't hurt to look at all angles and not just one or two."

"Finding a dreamer won't get me arrested for break and entering, theft, vandalism…" Delia counts off the myriad of charges on her fingers before squaring a look at Koshka and shrugging one shoulder. "I dunno, are you allowed outside the fence? Because if you're not and the owner calls the police on you, what's going to happen?"

Turning to look at Brian, the redhead twitches her eyebrows up and gives him the look of, 'tell her'. "I dunno, Miss Koshka, bad things happen when you go back to the scene of a crime. And whether you accidentally got his place trashed or not, it's not going to matter. What's going to matter is that you were there and it got trashed and you took stuff."

Sable's eyes dart from face to face as points are raised and disputed. Kaylee, that nice girl who is unfortunately blonde and also has mind powers, is someone Sable knows and last she checked trusted with easy confidence. Why with easy confidence? She was her neighbor. She's done her good turns. Brian's suspicion seems, itself, suspicious - paranoid if not provocateur.

"Kosh, hon," Sable interjects as the teenager once again raises the notion of going back, "dunno that I'd fast recommend pokin' 'nother toe out there. Not sure if it's them anklets brought those critters on us, but I consider m'self well 'n' truly scared sensible. Whoever has all this-" she gestures at the box, the phtos, "they come here with a purpose, and if they gotta do it all in secret, I'm wonderin' jus' how good their intentions gotta be. I mean- if this is somethin' t' do with our destinies, seems like it oughta be our business, eh?"

Delilah sighs. "Well, I think everyone else here trusts her… who do you trust, then? You haven't been offering any suggestions." She and Kosh are kind of- ganging up on him a bit, and maybe while he is on painkillers that can be a bad idea. Not like he can fight about it. Hah. "If someone wants to go back to the house, that's up to them. I can't risk it, if that cat was there. Maybe if there's someone that can't be seen going back it would be safe." She turns to look at Sable as she brings up what was next on her own mind.

"It's us. Yeah. Even if it wasn't intended for us, our destinies are our business. Especially now."

"Koshka." Brian whines, pressing his bandaged hands to his face. Letting out a groan. "Why do you want to go back their so bad? Have you seen what happened to me?" He asks sounding a little more irritated. He glances down at his chest and his arms before looking back to Koshka. "How the fuck are we going to take on another one of those thing? Or two? You used all the bullets in my gun. And I can barely move. Going out there is plain and simple suicide." He growls. Pushing his head back onto the couch.

"Sorry. I'm cussing. I didn't mean to cuss." Brian moans, eyes closing. "I trust my sister. And Eileen. Gillian. She should see this shit." But apparently the irritation and whatever substances he's on has a crackle of blue white electricity running off his finger tips letting out a static POP. The four fingered man lets out a quiet groan. "She's not allowed outside the fence. We could get caught real easy."

The frown Koshka's been wearing is turned over to Sable then Brian. "Why don't you want to go back? Besides stupid robo kitties from hell? Didn't the whole house seem a little… strange?" She turns to Sable, brows arching upwards. "That wasn't just some abandoned house, and it's not here with the rest. Nothing's suppose to be inhabited out here in this 'reclaimed zone' besides Eltingville, and that house was."

The teenager turns to Delia next, pointing with her chin toward the box. "And what if, what if who you find in the dreams isn't on our side? What if telling him, or her, is exactly what these …warnings are warning against? Or if it's just some random dreamer with a sadistic side, you could get caught up in his traps and we'd be right where we are now. I think it's worth the risk to explore all avenues."

Koshka stares at Delia a moment longer, then looks briefly at Sable and Delilah, and lastly to Brian. "But what do I know about these things, right?" She shrugs, letting out a sigh and taking up her mantle of silence again. Cups, touched or not, are gathered from the table in much the manner they were brought out, and carried off to the kitchen.

Staring after Koshka for a moment, Delia snaps her fingers to the dogs and when they trot to her sides, she clips their leashes back on. "Then you explore all the avenues and good luck, when you get caught by the sentinels because you're not allowed to be outside the fence and disappear… because that's what I saw in the future. It doesn't stop at robots, it doesn't stop in the ghetto. People get shipped out west because they're promised something better but all they get is dead."

When she stands, the redhead twists toward the box and rifles through it until she finds the rubbing and pulls it out. "I suggest putting the box somewhere safe so copies of everything can be made. I'm going to make a copy of this for myself and I'll bring it back." She folds it carefully and tucks it into the inside of her light jacket before she gives the rest of the assembled an apologetic look. "Sorry, I just want something to show she existed once… I'll bring it back."

Sable's remain eyes are on Delilah, even after she's stopped speaking. There's an intentness to her gaze, a sort of searching, a focus fine enough that she actually misses much of what Brian says. She can't know just what is incentive for Koshka to frown and adopt her assertive tone. Instead she wipes her finger dry of Walter's spittle, and reaches out to take Delilah's hand, fingers lacing. This done, she rejoins the world, in time to hear Koshka as what it is she (Koshka) knows about things. Sable blinks. Some of the words heard but not understood rattle slowly into place. Something about exploring all avenues. A notion Sable would usually dig, but…

"Th' more we know, th' better, I figure," Sable says, "but th' more people who know more know, th' better as well," her lips quirk down at the corners. Delia's equanimity in proposing how the box be used brings her a bitter tinge of shame which squeezes away with a wrinkle of her nose, and the admission, "held ont' some things. Figure it's arright I hold ont' th'm? They're sorta like-" she glances to Delilah, "th' pic's obvious just hers, 'n' the CD 'n' th' music- it- y'all mind I keep 'em. I got a feelin' like I'm s'ppose t'."

Delilah takes Sable's hand with a sturdy sort of passiveness, not looking to the other young woman until after she starts speaking. Koshka knows a lot, but then again- Dee used to be like that too, when she came into the fold. She figures it is much the same for the girl. Walter pries his hands at Sable's shirt now, twining it in his little fingers. There may also be an attempt at grabbing onto her breasts, hands roaming like a very bold little raccoon.

"We can divvy it up then? Make sure we get what is ours, so to speak. I know that I want to look at some of them again before I go, that's all. I don't need to keep anything."

Dee has enough mind all of a sudden to pause and look at Walter at the start of her next thought. "Hey, buddy, those aren't for you." Admonishment over- Sable can handle the rest how she wants- she puts her eyes onto everyone else again. "Lets do this, then. We have time to handle it, and we need to do it as carefully as possible. I have faith in us."

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