Falling Apart Fast


ingrid_icon.gif kincaid_icon.gif

Scene Title Falling Apart Fast
Synopsis Ingrid comes to Kincaid with a request on the night of Russo's manifestation.
Date January 23, 2011

Kincaid's Apartment

The apartment had never been one of much comfort. Kincaid didn't rent it for comfort. The rooms are decent sized, but lightly furnished. One bedroom is closed off, with the bed given over to the person who's unable to move around too much, allowing her some privacy, and leaving him to set up the couch for himself. It's not going to be the most comfortable place to sleep, but…

There's worse places. It's not the couch he's setting up for sleep though, when he hears the knock on his door. He's picking up the maps spread out on the table, curling them up, folding them, and moving them to a nearby closet, one at a time. He'd not intended his apartment to hold anyone but him, so he needs to make it more hospitable… And that means using the table for more than maps.

The knock draws his eyes, and he leaves a map of Staten Island where it is, complete with colored lines of various shapes and sizes through various locations, as he peeks through the small hole. She won't hear the sigh of relief, when he unlocks and opens the door. "Ing, hey. You got my message."

Standing in the hallway outside Kincaid's apartment is a small, straw-haired woman with pale eyes ringed in darker blue and a pink mouth pursed into a resolute if worried expression. Ingrid's gaze darts past Kincaid into the apartment's interior but she does not move from the stoop. Both her gloved hands clutch at the front of her winter coat, periwinkle scarf tucked down the front, and she tightens her grip in response to the man's greeting. Diminutive and mouse-like, she gives him a short nod. Sucks in a breath and asks, "Is— Is Delia here?"

Her voice is tinier even than she is, and if she had whiskers and a tail she'd fit in seat on Kincaid's palm. She drags her teeth over her lower lip. "I don't have to come inside or anything. Shouldn't, I mean."

The bruising and cuts forgotten, Kincaid has gotten them cleaned better than usual, thanks to a certain medical student hiding away in his house. The cut on his eyebrow looks better sealed than it would have a few short hours ago, but the one on his lower lip still looks angry. Mostly cause he keeps opening it when he shows the same kind of nervous motions.

"Yeah, she's here," he says, moving out of the doorframe to grab a coat and pull it on, as he reaches to touch the radio at the desk. Music comes on, soft enough to drown out some extra sound, but not enough to be an annoyance, as he checks his keys and steps outside into the hall.

"She's supposed to be sleeping, or resting at least, she's still pretty weak, but… She should be okay for now." He hesitates a long moment, starting to bite down on his lower lip and forcing himself to stop before he starts bleeding again. "Are you sure you don't want to come inside?" Though the hall isn't as cold as the streets outside. He's beginning to close the door even as he asks, though.

"She has good ears," is all Ingrid initially has to say on the subject, and she waits until the door behind Kincaid has shut before she speaks again with some soft timidity. "I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help. And. You work for Brad and Miss Reynolds, so— I was wondering if maybe it might be a better idea for someone else to take her. You know, in case the Department decides to investigate everyone at the studio."

She forces a smile, weak and a little watery on her lips. The weather has her nose running, and she scrubs at it with the back of her woolen glove. "I went to see Astor about it before I came here," she says, "but I couldn't find him anywhere, and Walt— Walt doesn't know where he is either, 'caid. Maybe she could stay with Lene and me if it looks like people might start coming around? Lene's working for Redbird Security now, and my internship means our apartment is the last place Praeger's people will check. I'll make Josh promise not to sleep with her even."

"I knew my place would be short term," Kincaid says with a grimace as it's all laid out before him. Though if they investigate his place… he glances towards the door as it is pulled closed and there's that grimace again. Likely he'll need to do more than shove maps into a closer. "Astor's better at finding you than being found. I hope he's okay, but Walter doesn't know where he is?" Dark eyes grow worried, and he scratches at his growing hair, shaggier by the day.

"She can't even walk, so he better not try anything with her…" Though wheelchairs may not be enough to discourage some people, at times.

"I was going to try to get ahold of… of her dad, see if he can do anything. I got a number for him a while ago, but I don't know if it still works. If it doesn't, you guys may be the best option." The next worrying he can't avoid digging teeth into his lower lip, just enough to make it darker red around the split. "Do you think they'll let him go with just a fine, or do you think…" he trails off.

"I dunno," says Ingrid, and her eyes drop all the way to the floor, guilt plastered across her face because, you know, she should. "I'll see if there are any files to pull tomorrow when I get in, and I'll ask Miss Pak if she's heard anything. He won't disappear. People'd notice, and you know how they are about— noticing. Better to do it slow like a pot lobster."

This is a terrible analogy, and she grimaces as soon as the words have tumbled out of her mouth. She swallows hard. "We're not the next best option, really. New York City— it's not safe for her right now. Or ever, I guess, but if you can't get ahold of—" Her breath hitches, and like she can't quite bring herself to look at Kincaid, she can't quite bring herself to say Ryans' name either. "We could just put her on a boat. Benji would know what to do, and things like this are his decision more than anybody's. Even you or me."

"She won't like the boat option," Kincaid says, thumbing his lip as if to make sure he didn't open the cut again. It's sore and getting angry, but no new blood flows. His teeth aren't even pink, thankfully. "She's rather fond of her iPad, and I think she's got her heart set on living with him again when this clears up… They may not make him disappear, but they'll keep an eye on him for as long as he wants to stay free. And he'll pick keeping himself in the spotlight to hiding away in a hole."

Even if, from the sound of his voice, the hole might be safer for everyone involved.

"It is Benji's decision, though, you're right… I said I'd keep her safe.. and some things are more important than comfort." Like freedom. Like life. After a moment, his hand grips on the doorknob, and he lowers his voice, despite the fact there's no sounds in the hallway besides them. "Everything's falling apart fast, isn't it?"

"I think it was already apart when we got here, but I guess that's our fault too." Ingrid keeps her gaze focused on her feet and the snow melting around her shoes: a pair of fur-lined boots with an elevated sole instead of the high heels she wears around the office paired with short skirts and tinted nylons, frilly cotton blouses and colourful sweaters that button under the chin and at the wrists.

Tonight it's sweatpants with the Columbia University logo across the bottom tonight and a long-sleeved shirt under the matching hoodie under her coat. Her hair doesn't look like it's been brushed, and it probably hasn't. She isn't wearing any make-up. "Sometimes I think I should've listened to my mom. Then I remember how wrong she was about everything else. I'm glad that we're here."

There's a long sigh, a quiet moment of sadness, before Kincaid nods, "Sometimes I wish I'd never left, but… other times I can't imagine having stayed. Despite what just happened, it's one of those moments I'm glad I'm here." With her eyes lowered, he reaches his hand up, the left one, and touches the tip of her nose with a soft poke.

"You should get going before it gets too late. Your internship will only get you so far and I don't think they'll break down my door tonight. We can move her tomorrow. And I'll see if I can get ahold of her father, while you get ahold of Benji for me."

Ingrid wrinkles her nose at the touch, then pulls away, making a faint itching motion at her face with the tips of her fingers. "I know," she says. "I'll be careful. You don't have to worry about me staying out of trouble. Save that for Howard now that he's back. Without Benji and Hannah to keep an eye on him, he and Adel are gonna be as bad as Cal and Josh."

Which isn't that bad at all. If it was, there wouldn't be facetiousness leaking into her tone. "Leave your phone on? I'll call you first if I hear anything."

"We all get into our own kinds of trouble, I think," Kincaid says with a soft laugh, even as he twists the doorknob, of his door. "I'll leave my phone on, and I promise to answer it." His voice is toned as if he's trying to shrug off his worries, as if he knows they won't do anything right now.

"I'll also call if anything changes, but I think I'll be drinking a lot of coffee tonight while I move things around." Things to go into a car, then somewhere safe for storage. Too bad people aren't as easy to shove into safe spots as pieces of paper.

"Take care of yourself, Ing," he adds, with a smile only lessened by the break in his lip. The door is pushed inward, to the soft sound of music from the radio, a soft buffer for their conversation.

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