For All The Marbles, Part I


kain_icon.gif lola2_icon.gif

Scene Title For All The Marbles, Part I
Synopsis Kain Zarek may very well be hallucinating ghosts.
Date March 7, 2010

Red Hook

Lola's Apartment

My breast is cradled in the curve of my guitar…

Lola seems to enjoy her strange music. Even now, the sound of a scratchy-voiced woman twisting her fingers frantically around guitar strings echos though the otherwise seemingly void apartment. Lola Mayeux, AKA Mary-Lou Winston is nowhere to be seen, on first glance. Instead the place seems well lived-in, beer and condiments in the fridge, but lacking soul.

…I'm breaking strings and other things playing hard…

And yet in it's lack of cluster, it's sparcity yet it's used feel, there is something to this room. A presence, a spirit. One that is not soft, is not smooth or rounded - the lack of anything comforting here is a clear symbol of that. Whomsoever inhabits this space is more like sand paper.

…No I'm not on the rag and I'm not on the run; I'm matching the big boys one-for-one…

And then there is it. A sound. A hissing sound. That sound comes from the closet, where Lola's denim-clad rear can be seen in a crouched position. What is she doing? Why finishing installing a simple safe under some floorboards, if anyone gets a look, in ragged old jeans, bare feet and a white tank top. Her hair, still red, hangs loose as she works. There's a stack of money beside her - cash, out of order. Jagged it is.

…And I must admit, I am having myself some fun….

There's a sudden knock on the door, a low pounding of three hammer-falls; nothing urgent, just enough to be heard over the music. Beyond that flimsy door, a particularly desheveled looking blonde cajun looks rather fitting to the environment of this run down apartment building. That ratty old brown leather jacket he wears is a far cry from the usual pinstripe suits and starched shirts. Old bluejeans and a pair of workboots have replaced slacks and wingtip shoes.

…and he had a mean streak three miles wide…

"Hey!" Comes shouted with less patience out from the hall, and Kain Zarek leans his shoulder against the wall beside the door to the apartment, told sliding across his cheek as he considers cursing out her name just so he can get it out of his system now. "Red! Answer th' door!" Every moment that goes by, Kain's patience slips.

When did he ever have patience to start with?

Lola already has her gun drawn as she makes it to the door, cranking down the music. She makes a very pointed move in closing the closet door and hiding her work - never know with Kain. Which is why Lola's very glad she's got the gun.

There are quite a few locks to be undone, and Kain gets at least five or six seconds of clicks and slides of metal across slick metal before the door opens. There, leaning one arm against the door itself is Lola Mayeux, gun held easily in her opposite hand. You know, just in case. "Ah didn' order cajun," she points out, looking over him with a raised brow.

"Yer about t'get a black eye if'n you don't let me in." Kain grumbles as he rests his palm against the doorand nudges it testingly. His profile is narrow viewed through the partly open door, blue eyes peering out from behind the stringy bangs of blonde hair that hasn't been washed in a day. "Ah' gotta' talk t'you about Casper the friendly Ghost comin' on up in mah apartment." Those baby-blue eyes narrow, and Kain's grizzled and unshaven face makes it look like — with the rest of his close in likewise disarray — that he hasn't been home in a while. "So yer either gon' let me in so we can talk, or Ah'm gonna turn 'round and forget Ah' ever did see that spook under mah sofa."

In the hall, a wiry black cat wanders past, tail twitching as it passes by Kain. There's been more and more stray cats here as of late, especially with the cold having drawn animals in off the street. Fortunately for Lola, and perhaps not coincidentially, the rat that was living somewhere in the apartment building has gone missing.

And maybe she's been feeding them too. MAYBE. She'll never admit to it, though. Grabbing Kain by the shoulder, the wiry little form musters surprising strength to haul him toward her and give him an unceremonial shove into her apartment, checking the hall once more and winking to the cat before she closes the door, stuffing the gun in the back of her pants before she turns to face the newest rat.

"You high or somethin'?" Lola asks, completely befuddled by his words. "Have a seat," she tells him, her tone leaving little room for argument. She bends over, ass in the air, and pulls out a…blender. And then a bananna. And then an…onion? "Ah got just the cure fer whatever it is ya got." Oh dear god.

If Kain's stomach could flip-flop any more than it has in the last few weeks the notion of bananna and onion frappe completely does it for him. Waving one hand in the air and then pointing at Lola sharply, Kain emphasizes his distaste vocally. "Ah' swear t'God if'n you mix that up Ah'll throw you outta' window. Ah' don' even wanna so much's smell it right now…" Dark brows scrunched together, Kain offers Lola what might be construed as an apologetic expression from the downturn of his lips before he takes a few slow and tired steps deeper into the apartment, back offered to Lola.

"Ah' need t'know how t'get in touch with Richard." It's a quiet admission that Kain makes, moving forward towards a ratty armchair, his brows furrowed and one hand rubbing across his stubbled chin. "Also…" looking over his hsoulder, Kain's eyes regard Lola by the blender carefully. "When you were workin' for Danny, d'you ever meet a girl by th' name'a Nicole Nichols?"

"Ye'll drink it and ye'll like it. Ah'll put some rum in it fer ya." That's all he needs - a sweet liquor. She continues to go about her business - at least until the questions start flying. One hand holds up her weight on the cabinet door as she stands, body at a ninety degree angle as she gives him a look.

"He's dead, aincha remember? Christ what's the matter with ya…." she shakes her head, and digs around for a few other things. Some unmarked spices - no doubt some of that Santeria shit. Kain may not survive this pit stop.

"Ya know what Ah know bout Linderman. Why, want me ta ask her out fer ya? Ya kin just pass her a note that says 'circle yes er no' if yer shy." She kicks the door closed and starts chopping.

"God damnit Lola this ain't no fuckin' joke!" Kain raises his voice, wheeling around from where he'd been standing with his back to her, both arms flapping out at his side. "You know God damn well that Dickie ain't dead, he snuck up on me like th' motherfuckin' Ghost a' Christmas Future like he does, all spooks an' shadows, an' told me Ah' had work t'do." There's a quaver beat where it looks like Kain seems to get emotional on mention of the meeting, but he swallows back whatever that was with the meager amount of pride he has left.

Wiping his hand over his mouth, Kain makes a shaky-handed motion towards Lola. "Ah' don' want a drink…" he says in a hushed voice, eyes partway lidded and stare directed to the floor. "Ah'— just need t'know how you get in touch with Cardinal, an' if you know th' Nichols girl. 'Cause Ah' need t'talk t'her 'bout somethin', an' if you were ever friendly with her that'd help me a whole lickity-lot."

Lola just blinks, staring at Kain as though he lost his mind. Well, moreso now than she ever has in the past, anyway. The knife is set down as she walks over, setting her hands onto Kain's shoulders with a flop. He has the privlage now of staring very close into those very dark eyes of hers as she looks at him square.

"Kain, listen to me. Cardinal is dead, okay? Everyone said he swallowed a nuke in Transylvania or wherever he was. Just have a sit down, hmm sugar? Ya ain' lookin' so good. Ya gotta tell me what's happenin'." Look at her being nice!

A haunted look slips past Kain's features, and he takes a half step back and away from Lola, something of a shambling quality to his gait. "Ah'— Ah' don' need t'sit down goddamnit, he came t'mah apartment an— and— " Kain's brows crease together, blue eyes wandering left and right. As his words fade, the cajun slowly slouches back onto that ratty old recliner he'd been circling earlier, springs creaking beneath his weight. A troubled look remains plastered across Kain's face as he covers his mouth with one hand, brows up at his hairline and absolutely silent.

The radio keeps the silence from becoming wholly awkward, because Kain's words have been wholly stolen away by the revelation that he might very well be losing his goddamned mind. Seated, Kain rests one elbow on the recliner's armrest and slouches back against the seat, resting his head in one hand and breathing out a tired sigh. Maybe he is going crazy.

Lola sighs, watching him fall. He's fallen quite a long ways. "Kain, sugar…ya gotta get up," Lola finally says, turning for the kitchen. She coems back with a glass of water and some asprin, setting each into his hands. She crouches down in front of him so he won't look away. "Ah mean…Ah spoze it's possible, with what he could do. Ah'll do some diggin, alright? Just…sugar Linderman's still goin' down an we kinda…need yer help. Ya gotta get better. What's been goin' on with you anyway? Ah mean bein' depressed is one thing, smellin' like mah old prison cell's another altogether."

"Nah… nah it— " Kain wipes one hand over his forehead, swallowing dryly. "Nah… Ah' think maybe yer right. Maybe— Maybe Ah'm losin' mah mind." There's a shift of Kain's eyes to the side, staring out at the apartment's floor, his voice is quieter than it was a moment ago. "Ah' think Ah'm goin' nuts, Lola… Ah' think Ah'm seein' an' hearin' things that ain't there. Ah— thought Ah' heard him call me, leave me a voicemail. But— but maybe Ah' deleted it, maybe it wasn't ever there t'begin' with."

Swallowing dryly, Kain looks up to Lola with a furrow of his brows. "Ah' ain't been sleepin' well. Had a couple'a bad dreams… ain't never— never been right since." Biting down on his lower lip, Kain moves his hand back down to cover his mouth again, callused fingers scrubbing at his stubble. "Ah've been tryin' t'get clean…" Kain mumbles quietly, "Almos' drank m'self t'death before you showed up that day…"

"An here Ah'm more used ta hearin' fellahs tellin' me they damn near drunk 'emselves ta death after Ah showed up." Never let the sass die!

"Alright, sugar, here's what we're gonna do. Yer gonna stay here a couple a days, alright? If there's anyone who knows anythin' bout gettin' clean, it's me. So come on." she smacks his leg, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to let him know that she wants him to move. "Get yer ass in the shower so Ah kin wash yer shit. Ya might not be crazy. Might just be the detox or the booze or whatever else. Main point is, we'll worry 'bout that later. Can't tell shit from poo till we get ya fixed up, alright?"

Grimacing, Kain looks up towards Lola with an uncertain expression. Brows creased together, he slowly rises up from the chair, keeping his eyes on her the entire time he transitions to looking up at to staring down at the redhead. "Y'make a shitty redhead…" Kain admits in a quiet tone of voice, running fingers thorugh his greasy hair before turning away from her and unshouldering his leather jacket, slinging it down into the chair he was seated in.

"Y'know…" Kain pauses in his steps, turning to look back over at Lola. "If yer gonna shoot me, while Ah'm in the shower…" the cajun's brows crease together, no real sign of a smile on his face, "Ah' won' hold it against ya." After delivering that grim message, Kain just hangs his head, takes a few more steps and then grumbles a bit anticlimatically.

"W— Which way's the bathroom?"

Lola stands, taking Kain's arm and guiding him a little across the room to a small door. "Don' kid yerself sugar. Ah'm crazy, but Ah ain' never wasted a naked fellah in mah life before, sure ain' got no reason to start now," she winks, smirking that same old mischevious smirk she gets when she steals wallets or causes other bits of mischief.

The door to the bathroom is pushed open and Kain is left there to walk under his own power while Lola, it seems, heads back to the kitchen. "Just leave yer skanky ass drawers by the door an Ah'll get 'em." She gets out a pot. Who knows what she's gonna do with it, really, but as she does so she looks over at him with a new kind of smile.

"It's gonna be okay, sugar."

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