Participants:
| Scene Title | Extra Special Delivery |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Favors come in all sizes. |
| Date | February 6, 2020 |
"We're here," Silas pronounces, eying the apartment door in front of him with a combination of relief and wariness. He knows who lives here, and under other circumstances he'd be glad enough to see her… he just hopes like hell that Asi had told her more than she told him. He glances to Mohinder, gesturing for him to stand over to the side; Silas has Suresh safely cloaked to keep anyone from noticing him, but it's kind of a jarring thing for someone to suddenly appear in front of you, and he'd rather not rattle someone with Monica's kung-fu grip.
No point procrastinating, he thinks, raising his hand and rapping lightly on the door. Shave and a haircut: two bits!
“Precisely whose house is this?” Mohinder asks as he steps aside, much as Silas had asked, keeping his voice down. “Do they understand that they’ll be harboring a known fugitive that is presumed dead, or do you belatedly ambush everyone with important facts?” Though he’s getting his way with regards to a trip to Kansas, Mohinder is not, infact, happy about any of this arrangement. “Do they know terrorists are after me?” Mohinder thinks to add with a flippant roll of his eyes.
It takes a few moments, but soon the door opens to Monica in workout clothes and a sandwich in hand. "Silas! I heard you had a— " Her greeting is cut off as her gaze moves to his companion, her eyebrow raising. "— delivery for me. You guys better get in here." She steps aside, pulling the door open wider to usher them in. It would do exactly none of them any good for someone to spot Mohinder in her hallway.
"What the fuck," she says, gesturing to the fugitive in question. "He is what Asi wants me to hide?"
One might notice several things upon entering Monica's apartment. One, she's only just gotten set up here, as most of her things are still in boxes. But for all that she's mid-unpacking, the windows are already covered in thick curtains— enough to keep the sun out and certainly enough to keep anyone from seeing in. But there is a couch, at least, and some chairs pushed into a corner. Presumably to be placed later.
Silas lets out a deep breath. "In order: you'll find out, probably not, and do you really think I had any fucking advance warning about this either?" he asks, as levelly as he can.
Once Monica opens the door, he lets her see who's with him. "Hi yes A-1 Package Delivery service, Smiles here, we got your 'package'," Silas says, heavy sarcasm on the last word. "And yes. I'm sorry," he says, some genuine sympathy entering his gaze. "I'll give you the full rundown."
Then he turns back to Mohinder. "After you."
Mohinder reluctantly enters when instructed, one eye narrowed and the opposite brow raised. As he steps inside, he looks back over his shoulder at Monica, and only then around at the entrance of her apartment. His eyes traverse the seams of walls and ceiling, then track their way back to her. “You’re Monica Dawson, aren’t you?” He angles his head to the side, regarding Silas just past Monica, then back to her again.
“I remember you,” Mohinder says in a tone that’s almost accusatory. “Phoenix, yes?” He didn’t apparently know her well. Mohinder looks around the apartment again, then back to Monica with special attention to her prosthetic arm. He doesn’t outright comment on it.
"She's a menace," Monica says, about their mutual friend. ON1 is probably going to get some messages tonight. She shuts and locks the door behind them, letting out a sigh when Mohinder says her name. "That's me. And you are Mohinder Suresh." Her arms fold, and eyebrow lifts and she huffs out a laugh. "I don't think you want to trade resumes with me." She doesn't miss that his attention goes to her fancy arm and she rolls her eyes before her attention turns back to Silas.
"Did she give you any idea of a timetable for this favor?" She will hide him, of course, because her friend asked her to. But knowing how long that has to last would be a big help.
Silas slips in behind Mohinder. Monica looks good… but then, she always looks good. He suspects it's a constant, across timelines. In stark contrast to the borderline shabby look I've got going, he thinks. To be fair, he selected his clothes very carefully to give the impression of just the right amount of shabbiness to go unnoticed without running the risk of getting picked up for vagrancy, but still.
"I'm sure she's got good reasons for keeping us in the dark," Silas says. "That's why I haven't sent her a text or two already." Well. That, and he's been busy trying to get his charges juggled to suitable destinations without any of them getting picked up by the cops.
"And no. No timetable. I was told that I needed to pick up a package from a courier, and get it delivered to you; didn't find out what the package was until I got there." And was challenged to a surprise knife fight. "But… it's hopefully not going to be too long. We're working on plans for a roadtrip soon; I just need you to keep him safe until then."
Mohinder makes a face when Silas mentions the road trip, wringing his hands together as he paces back and forth not too far from Monica. There’s a look of guilt — more so than usual — that hangs over him. Perhaps it was something Monica said, perhaps it was just that she reminded him of his past and the sins still haunting him from that time. Mohinder lingers in the interstitial space of Monica’s apartment, neither outside nor too far in. Much as he lingers in life, neither imprisoner, nor truly free.
"Well, reasons or not, she's getting a few texts from me," Monica says, because while she supports her friends and their strange tendencies, she also likes to be informed before a Mohinder shows up at her door. She's just decided that. "But don't worry, he'll be safe here until your plans are ready to go." The pacing catches her eye, though, and she looks at Mohinder with a suspicious expression.
"Is there anything else going on that I should know about?"
Her attention turns back to Silas and she nods him toward the kitchen, "I know the place looks rough, but the kitchen's stocked. If you want a beer or something, make yourself at home." And if she's a little reluctant when she turns back to Mohinder, well, hopefully he'll forgive her. "You, too, of course. Sorry all I have to offer to sleep on is a couch unless you feel like sharing." That's sarcasm. "But, you know, it's yours while you're here. If you need anything that isn't here, just let me know."
Silas lets out a sigh and gives Monica what may possibly be the first actual smile he's given since this whole mess started. "Yes. Absolutely, I will take you up on that." He'd had a beer already, after his little knife fight at Aman's place, but Mohinder Suresh's company has a way of evaporating the warm glow of alcohol in very short order. He heads for the refrigerator without hesitation.
“The couch will be fine,” Mohinder says with a hint of tension in his voice, stalking a few feet away. “I don’t expect to spent much time here, to be frank.” That much is lobbed at Silas with a lopsided stare, angle of Mohinder’s head that reads I better not.
“That said,” Mohinder adds after a moment, “I… appreciate your willingness to host me, given my…” he shakes his head. “I understand I’m not a welcome face in most spaces, even if most of my social circles the last few years have been prison-adjacent.” He feels that attempt at humor fall flat and he chides himself over it.
The beer found in Monica's fridge is the good stuff and there is plenty of it, like she's used to the idea of needing enough to go around. But Luther comes over and so does Eve, so maybe it's understandable. Monica chuckles at how fast Silas accepts that offer and the man's smile seems to improve her mood. Enough that she does not say something snarky to Mohinder when she turns his way again.
"You'll be safe here," she says instead, reassuring and serious, "however short a stay it is, I can promise you that much." She cannot promise that whatever Asi has planned for him will be safe, and she's pretty sure it isn't. But she doesn't mind being the calm before the storm. "Let me get you some pillows and stuff." She steps out of the room, just long enough to grab sheets and pillows and even something for him to sleep in— not hers, exactly, as they seem more suited for a man. His, for the time being.
"A short stay, hopefully," Silas calls from the kitchen, and what fun the road trip is going to be; he's betting Mohinder's the kind of guy who asks 'are we there yet' every five miles. On a happier note, Monica's taste in beer is excellent; he'd expected it would be, but it's always nice when someone lives up to your hopes.
"Anyway. I'm not gonna linger long; sooner I get started, sooner I can get on the road." And it's also a great excuse to be out of here before Dr. Feelbad's sulky disposition reasserts itself. He's just about done choking on the shit sandwich that today has brought him; he's just gotta make one more rendezvous to get Des settled in, and he can head back to Kain's bolthole, lock all the doors and pull the blinds, and go to sleep for awhile.
“Thank you, Silas.” Mohinder says with unexpected sincerity. “For what it’s worth, at any rate. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, even if I… most certainly don’t deserve it. Most people would have turned me away once they knew the full length and breadth of my crimes, let alone given me one more chance to try and make something right of them.”
Sighing softly, Mohinder turns to Monica, then nods in silent agreement to her terms. “Yes,” he says softly.
“However short a stay it is.”