Participants:
| Scene Title | Favorable |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Bella Sheridan's status as such is debatable. |
| Date | June 07, 2011 |
In the age of the information revolution, Francois could have considered simply texting them.
'bella is in bay hous dont kill her silvousplait. - francois'
It would have taken him only five minutes or so.
But even simpler gestures than that feel unnatural and unfinished when completed over a few short words through the magical limbo of digital transmission, or disembodied voices over radio for a complicated kind of conversation. He has come in person and sure he waited until Teo was gone and sure he has a pair of sunglasses even if the weather is low and hazy, a pressure cooker of summery warmth making his skin sheen damp and uncomfortable in the humidity and his own fluctuating body temperature, but it's a nice enough spot. The navy yard is rarely crowded these days, a public area with sidewalks, pavement walkways, metal railings and the view of the river beneath the open sky, and the same spot Francois met Bella and Deckard.
He sits at the wooden picnic table and the bolted down benches, a hand pressed to his forehead and elbow against the wooden surface. He looks bad enough to not be out here, but maybe there's something said for generating pity points, or not inviting people back to your diseased home, or doing something in person because it is honourable and decent. He didn't say why, just where to be.
These days, with the responsibility of councilhood and so forth, Lynette isn't remiss in answering such calls. Plus, she likes French things. Wine, bread, cheese, etc. So she comes strolling up, hair covered by a pretty scarf and pulled into a braid and a pair of sunglasses herself. It's almost a disguise, she's just never been very good at them. A little too vain, perhaps.
"You look like hell," is her greeting as she slides onto the bench on the opposite side of the table. "Is everything alright?" That actually sounds like she's concerned, and maybe a little nervous. It's been quiet lately and she's waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It doesn't take much to get Barbara to come out, particularly when she's already in teh city anyway. The fact that it's Francois asking, even in this weather, is all the more reason. Trading the sweatshirt she speant most of the alst few months wearing for a white tank top and jeans, Barbar's dyed red hair makes her easy enough to pick out on appraoch, an eyebrow raised as she comes up on Lynette and the Frenchman.
"Hello Francois, Lynette. It's nice to see you both today," she offers with a smile, hands buried deep into her denim pockets. "I hope nothing too bad's happened, to get you to bring us out here today." She doesn't make comment of how bad Francois looks, but she takes mental note of it - it reminds her, a bit, of the last time she saw Rue.
"It is the five-ten," Francois readily confirms, voice sounding like it's been drawn and tortured, head lifting from where he was holding it up. It's probably rude, that he keeps his sunglasses on — but it's also in the interests of decency that he does. "The new kind. But it isn't why I asked you here. Nothing bad has happened."
Well. Fingers splay, loosen. That's probably a matter of perception. "It's about Bella Sheridan."
"Jesus. Why are you out of bed?" Men. But it is a sort of concern, even if she's a pit snappish about it. Lynette does relax a bit at the reassurance, but it doesn't last past that name being dropped.
She doesn't yell, though! Or sneer! But she does frown, tension drawing her jaw tight as she draws in a deep breath through her nose. "Well," she says, at length, "I suppose we can chat about the good doctor — " that's spoken with a wry tone, at best, " — if we must."
Barbara's eyes widen a bit at this news, surprise painted on ehr face. "I'd ask why you're not at the hospital - I've already heard of one of us," a nebulous us to mean one of the Ferry - "who is. I hope the sun's rays do you some good." She doesn't mean to sound like she's chastising, though it likely does a bit. She's just concerned, honest.
But when teh subject of the meeting comes up, a look is offered over to Lynette. She doesn't exactly know the history there, jsut what was said about it the last time Bella Sheridan came out.
Clearly, it's a hot button topic.
"Nothing bad? And yet, we're talking about someone who I ehard has done a lot of bad herself," Barbara remarks with a bit of a wry smile. "What's the deal?"
Concern is just as chafing as chastisement when you are both a qualified (sort of) doctor, a former immortal and, really, an old man. Francois' shoulders go up a little in defensive shrug, but there's no really denying it, nor blaming them for their comments. He has a defense lined up all the same, but it doesn't come, tossing a glance towards the steely river and deciding it's best to get on with it. The sun can do people good, historically — it can also induce fevers and headaches in the sensitive.
"She has cashed in my offer," he says, dropping his attention back down on his hands. "She has abandoned the Institute, and brought someone with her. Tamara Brooks has been delivered back to the Ferry — this is how. Sheridan has been living at the Bay House since. Flint Deckard has been watching her. So far— as noted— nothing bad has happened."
"Isn't that where the children are?" Lynette may just count Bella herself as something bad that has happened. It's pretty clear in her tone. Her question comes out before she has a chance to let herself stop and think about what she's saying, but that happens when she's on edge.
And Bella is definitely one way to get her on edge.
"What I mean is, of course, it's a shame we don't have the resources for a safehouse dedicated to such cases," she says, much more polite about it. Fake, of course, and it's something of a strain, as evidenced by the fact that she starts pulling out her cigarettes. She gets as far as putting one between her lips before there's a glance over to the sick man, which makes her abort with a bit of a sigh.
"Tamara?" The issue of the children and Bella Sheridan's questionable placement with them is swept aside by Barbara for a moment in favour of this particular topic. "I wasn't aware that she was even anywhere anyone could reach her, from what I've heard about the Institute. That's quite a gesture of faith and dedication, and I'm glad to hear that she aws able to do such a thing. But, catuious as I am, understandbly, about Institute types - and not that I think Ms. Sheridan would be at fault ehre so much as others… but at we sure it's teh genuine article? I heard tale of what some people went through when she was taken."
Barbara rolls her shoulders a bit, dismissing that thought almsot as quickly as she says it. "Either way, I'm glad to have Ms Brooks back, and to know that Sheridan was so willing to go to those lengths to join us. But I'm afraid I have to agree with Lynette on the palcement issue."
"I do not think she will harm the children, and I received no suggestion when I brought the matter to the council," Francois says, without particular accusation in his voice. He is not emotionally invested in this. He does not like Bella Sheridan. And his move was arrogant. But. "And in my experience, it is better to bring her somewhere that is more expendable than an entire island and railroad network, and she is not worth that risk. The children can be moved if this was a mistake. It is the only location she knows about."
Pale fingers sweep through damp, dark hair, lazy and tired. "Brooks is a good will gesture from Sheridan. I imagine she did it, because it is a favourable— " The English isn't quite right there, with how he intended to end that sentence, and rather than work it out, he dismisses it with a slight shake of his head. "Because it would look good. That said, she did not have to.
"I believe that her desire to be rid of the Institute is genuine. Her opinion of the network will have to come with time, if she is allowed the time."
"My suggestion, as I recall, was tossed out." But, given that Lynette was the one wanting to turn the woman away altogether, perhaps that's not surprising. "But you are right, better there than somewhere more important to the network. You're sure we can't just… stick her in a burlap sap and send her down the Hudson? I'm sure it's perfectly safe." It's a joke! Really. Maybe.
Probably?
"Are we caring about her opinion of the network?" It's a genuine question, complete with a blink. "Is that a hint that she's going to be sticking around and isn't jumping the boat to Canada or some such?"
"She'll be allowed time," Barbara remarks, in contrast to Lynette. Arms cross, and she moves to sit on the edge of their table, looking off into the distance. "Even if she's jumping ship, her opinion of the network counts. If we treat her as badly as the Instiute, there's little to keep her from ratting us out if she does skip her way across the border. For better or worse, she's in our little rabbit hole now. Which means we have to treat her like one of our own, until she proves undeserving of it."
Barbara gives a bit of a sigh, a hand placed lightly on Lynette's shoulder. "Which, to some, I know she already has, but it's too late to do anything about that now, I suppose. I do think we should keep a close eye on her, however. Brian and Samara are the ones running the Bay House, yes? I may have to speak with them soon."
The answer Barbara provides is the one Francois would have wanted to, and so he lets it stand on its own with a minor nod in agreement and then a brief study of his nails. Permission is a thing best obtained after the fact.
"A woman named Meredith Gordon has taken over," he says, lifting his head and then placing his hands on the edge of the table as if to stand, but doesn't quite yet. "As far as I can tell. You should also consider that Sheridan may have valuable intel. May not. She may use it to bargain with. She seems prepared to prove herself of some worth. And she has been told, more than once, that she is not welcome." A beat, before he moves to stand then, levering himself up with a degree of cautious. "If it is all the same to you, I would like my part in this to be over. She is the Council's, now."
Lynette was just about to say something, too, when Barbara's hand stops her. "Extremely close. And it isn't that she isn't welcome. It isn't like the whole of the network is little angels with no black spots in their past. She just isn't welcome by me and whoever else she might have stung hard enough. However. She's here now and she'll be as safe as anyone else." Which doesn't necessarily mean from all harm, after all, Lynette was the one slapping another council member last time they talked about this.
"Of course, Francois. She's off your hands. Whatever happens from here on, we'll handle it. You just worry about getting better and not doing anything foolish. Like dying on us."
Barbara looks from Lynette over to Francois and nods in agreement. "To say she's not welcome might not be too far off, but ultimately she's already proving to be someone we want on our side." What, with how easily she got Tamara back. "We will handle it, you're free of it, Francois. But thank you for everything you've done so far. It really is freatly appreciated." By her, at least. Maybe not by all, but you have to take what you can get sometimes. "Be well yourself, please. I don't want the next time I se eyou to be in a casket."
"That isn't funny," Francois says, wryly, and it's because they aren't yelling at him that he allows a half-smile to go along with the comment and pretend like maybe it is funny, sort of, because there's no need to be a dick about it. He allows the conversation to rest there, not quite ego enough to accept any thank yous for what he's done, today, and also too stoned out of his mind on flu medication to know how to be gracious. He legs it over the bench and makes his cautious way home.
"Ah, well. Humor's never been my strong point," Lynette says with a little smile of her own. It's tight, and a little forced, but she's trying. It's possible that Barbara's words on Miss Bella aren't exactly something she agrees with, but she's letting the conversation end there, too. She watches Francois make his way out for a moment before she stands up herself, letting a frown fall on her face there. "Heading back to the castle, Barbara?"
"This evening yes," Barbara offers back over to Lynette with a smile, pushing herself up off of the bench. They should talk about this further. It's probably important that they get everything out there, not that it's hard for Barbara to figure out where Lynette stands. But instead, she's going to let it rest, rather than stir a potentially dangerous pot. "I have some supply shopping to do, if you'd like to accompany. And then I believe it'll be about time to think about heading home." And hopefully, away from any powder kegs. At least, for now.
"I'd adore a little shopping right about now," Lynette says as she tucks a stray piece of hair behind an ear. Shopping as a stress reliever is a time honored tradition for her. Even if it isn't for shoes and handbags these days. "As nice as it is to spend a day out, I think I will be glad to see home tonight."
It's possible she'd like to keep the sparks off the powder kegs, too. At least for now.