Fear Of Helping


len_icon.gif tamsine_icon.gif

Scene Title Fear Of Helping
Synopsis Len and Tamsine have a discussion of her being afraid to help others.
Date November 2, 2009

Tamsine's Residence

The last time they went out, there was talk of home-cooked meals and whose mother cooked the best meatloaf, baked the best apple pie, or made the best biscuits. Tamsine, modest in most things, said she was an average cook but that she makes the best shrimp gumbo north of the Mason-Dixon line. Hardly a Southern girl, her mother on her mother's side was, and the recipe lives on in Tamsine's kitchen. The invitation to sample the spicy dish was made by phone, and now Tamsine stands at the stove, making the finishing touches on the dish as she waits for Len to arrive.

The redhead is casual today in torn jeans, bare feet, and a rust colored blouse (better for hiding the gumbo splatters!); the radio plays some jazz music to go with the spicy stew.

It's been another long day at 'the office' and Len Denton is ready to get off his feet. Honestly, he considered at least once to call and cancel. Not because he didn't want to spend time with Tamsine, but because he was afraid he'd be lousy company. He's been in a piss poor mood for most of the weekend. However, by the time early evening rolled around, Len had a change of heart. He's been wanting to spend less time at the Company lately, and more time away from it. Honestly, with the exception of tracking down Teo Laudini, and the occasional briefing by the other agents, Len hasn't felt all that connected.

So, he climbed into his Jeep and made his way back into the city and within the hour, he's pulling up outside of Tamsine's place and stepping out of the Jeep and heading up the sidewalk. She's already told him, she's not much of a drinker, so he brought some chilled juice and some flowers. He rings the doorbell as he glances around, always on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.

Tamsine heads to the door, peeking through the peephole to make sure it's Len, and opening the door with a smile. "Hey, cowboy. Don't you look like a tall drink of water." The words sound wrong of course in her high, sweet voice, when they sound like they should be said by a sultry saloon girl, but it's just a joke. "Come on in. Can I get you anything to drink? I bought some beer if you want, or water, or coffee…" They're still in that awkward stage where they're not entirely sure what the other person likes — or at least she isn't. She smiles at the flowers and the juice.

"Well, you said you didn't drink much, so I brought some juice. Though it's all fancy in a wine bottle, so that it gives the impression of drinking," he winks, handing over the bottle as well as the flowers. Some yellow tulips or something he got along the way. They aren't fancy, but he's never really claimed to be the fancy type. If he'd had time, he'd have gotten her a live flower or something. "I'll start with the beer, then downgrade to the juice later." Len steps down to lean over and give her a kiss. He has to lean way down in order to do so.

She takes both offerings, and then the kiss, smiling up as she stands on tip toe to help him out a little. "Come on in," she says, letting him into the entry way and closing the door. "Come on in and take a seat," she says, nodding to the living room. "Let me put these in some water, and I'll get you your beer." She disappears into the kitchen, putting the flowers in a vase, and grabbing a cold bottle of beer from the refrigerator. It's a microbrew from a nearby town. She pops the cap with the bottle opener and returns to the living room to hand it to him. "How are you?" she asks, sitting on the coffee table across from him, concern in her eyes.

He must look worse than he thought. He sets the beer next to her on a coaster on the table and places his hands over hers, his brown eyes gazing across at hers. "I'm doing good. Promise. Work has been hectic, but overall I am feeling pretty good. So take that worry out of your pretty eyes before I start to feel bad." he grins. Len gives her hands a squeeze. "Besides, if I was doing poorly, whatever it is that I smell right now would surely be the thing to pick me up out of any funk that I could possibly have." He releases one of her hands with one of his and reaches up and brushes her cheek gently with his finger. "How are you?"

She has a slow smile, that blooms from that somber look until it spreads from lips to cheeks to finally eyes. "I'm all right," she says, head tilting toward her shoulder in a backwards version of a shrug. "Work is fine. The newness is worn off, so it's not so much of a mental job anymore, which is both good and bad." He probably understands — being busy mentally means less time to think about other things, the things that make one sad and scared and lonely. She glances down and then back up. "I thought about … offering guitar lessons or something, maybe for free, maybe at that new center or something. I'm not that good, though, so I'm not sure how well I could teach it."

"There's that smile I love to look at." Len's own smile matches hers in warmth. He nods to her suggestion of offering guitar lessons. "I think you have far more to give than just managing a bar. You're a very giving person and I think that in the end, you won't be completely satisfied unless you are helping someone else. You might see what they are looking for at the Center and perhaps you'll find something you have been looking for all this time." He gives her a tug, trying to lure her onto his lap.

She frowns a little. "I … I'm afraid to try to help anyone in anything more serious…" she lets him pull her off the coffee table and onto his lap, her arms going around his neck as she looks at him. She's small enough that they're just about face to face with her sitting on his knees. "I was good at my job, I know I was, but I didn't help the person closest to me. I'm afraid of messing up on something important, missing something that big in someone's life, again… A bar's safe. I mean, the worst that can happen is I forget to schedule the bartender one night and people go home without any beer, you know?" She offers a wry smile at the end. "Music … at least that wouldn't be anything too earth shattering if I do it wrong."

Len brushes his nose against her chin after she speaks and he shakes his head. "You shouldn't be afraid to help people. And I don't think she would want you to stop helping people." His eyes drift towards the gathering of photos that all feature the young girl. "I think that in the end, all that matters is that you try to help. Even if it doesn't turn out the way you want, you're at least doing the right thing. It's really one of the reasons I do what I do. Even if I stopped," and he's been considering it, "I don't think that I could just stop helping as best that I could. Maybe I'm not making much sense," he smirks and gives a soft shrug.

"You are," Tamsine says quietly, leaning forward to kiss him softly on the cheek, her red hair brushing against his ear before she brings her lips to his and kisses lightly there. "Thanks for listening. I didn't mean to get all serious on you." She smiles and slips from his lap. "Let me check on dinner… it's about done, if you want to wash your hands or anything before hand." She steps backward and then slips out of the room, into the kitchen.

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