Duet, II


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Also Featuring

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Scene Title Duet, II
Synopsis {static}
Date March 16, 2018

A crackling purple light fills the darkness.

So unstable then you were born

Out of the corner of her eye he walks into view, as sleek and dark as the room, one hand set on the back of the chair beside her. "Is this seat taken?" He asks in a hushed tone. She gestures with an unoccupied hand: sit.

So unstable then you were born

"I didn't think you liked the Shattered Skies," he queries, dark eyes turning to the enormous glass window overlooking a stage lit by neon violet and teal. A blonde woman, Else Kjelstrom sits at a piano, singing into a mounted microphone. Sitting on top of the piano, her partner Robyn Quinn holds a microphone, joining Else's voice.

So unstable then you were born

"He told me to be vigilant." She says in a low, self-satisfied tone over the slightly muted quality of the concert. "The stars are aligned. It's tonight or… maybe never. If they try anything, I'll see it."

So unstable then you were born

Ice clinks in a lowball glass containing a cherry red liqueur with a twist of orange. Slouched back into a like green leather chair, the view of the stage from the VIP booth is without peer. Though it isn't the display on the stage below that has Odessa's attention. It's the man seated beside her in an equally green chair.

Just leave a light on in the window

(I'll be there, there, I'll be there)

"They're here," is a silken smooth earning from the man beside Odessa, elbow on the chair's armrests, hands steepled in front of himself. "Somewhere here, tonight." Odessa slides a look his way, one brow raised slowly.

Just leave a light on in the window

(I'll be there, there, I'll be there)

"Exactly what do we do about that, Mr. Goodman?" Odessa looks out the floor to ceiling window to the concert. "There's thousands of people here right now. Even I can't pick through everyone one by one." To punctuate her sentence, Odessa crosses one leg over the other and bobs her black heeled shoe to the beat beginning from the stage.

How has the song in your heart found a tune?

How is the sound strong enough to carry you?

"I suppose you're expected to be vigilant, yes. But there's a certain amount of whimsy that I find you here," Goodnan notions around himself to the black-walled VIP skybox. "Drinking."

Over the undertow

Keeping the volume low

Odessa's attention turns to the stage, her focus now drifting beyond it to the skyscrapers rising up around the intersection the stage is constructed in. Plants crawl across the broken concrete, blown out windows are roosts for birds, and the Deveaux Building looming tall behind the stage never looked so haunting in shades of neon violet and teal.

I stay with my memories

And it's a minefield of memory

"They won't get away," is Odessa's coolly delivered assurance as she sips from her drink. Ice shifts, clatters together, and she looks to the laser lights rising up into the sky from around the stage. "We have to know, don't we?" She looks back to Goldman, brows furrowed and stare intense.

I'm going to stay with my memories

I'm in a minefield of memory

Oh it's a minefield of memory

Goodman nods, hands clasped together and his own attention turning to the concert. "It's an auspicious night," is delivered with a weight only he can find in words. "The anniversary of the day that changed the world."

I've been living in a hole

Everybody has to know

"If there's even a chance they know what happened," Odessa's attention returns to her drink. "Where the facility went," her stare becomes long and distant. "What happened to the people there…"

All the ways I didn't deal with everything right

Help me dig another hole

"We'll find your mother," Goodman asserts, raising one dark brow as he turns his attention back to Odessa. "We'll find her, and if we have to, we'll go over there to get her back." Odessa's eyes narrow, slowly.

Everybody has to know

All the ways I didn't deal

"Not without me."

with everything right

The last word rings repeatedly in Odessa's ears, a reverberating echo of something once heard and once forgotten. But yet it clings to memory, the taste of the Cherry liqueur on her tongue, the scent of Roger Goodman's sandalwood cologne, the haunting duet performed by musicians in Midtown Manhattan.

A spark of green light, like a firefly, drifts off of Odessa's hand.

Up, and then


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