huruma3_icon.gif lucille2_icon.gif

Scene Title Forthcoming
Synopsis Huruma and Lucille get some quality time in, so to speak.
Date March 24, 2011

Red Hook

Before annexation into the 12th Ward of Brooklyn, Red Hook was a separate village. It is named for the red clay soil and the point of land projecting into the East River. The village was settled by the Dutch colonists of New Amsterdam in 1636. Red Hook is part of the area known as South Brooklyn, though it is northwest of the geographic center of the modern borough. It is a peninsula between Buttermilk Channel, Gowanus Bay and Gowanus Canal at the southern edge of Downtown Brooklyn.

Red Hook is connected to Manhattan by the vehicles-only Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, whose toll plaza and approaches separate it from Carroll Gardens to the north. Subway service in the area was cut off after the bomb de to flooding and collapse of the connecting Manhattan tunnels, and no present plans to reinstate them are yet under effect. The B61 bus, formerly a trolley line, runs as a 24-hour service from Erie Basin Red Hook through Downtown Brooklyn, Clinton Hill, Williamsburg, and Greenpoint, terminating at Long Island City, Queens.

Through the 1980s and 1990s Red Hook began a steady decline from an industrial complex like Long Island City, to a notorious neighborhood known for being rife with drug trade, specifically cocaine and crack. Following the bomb, the drug problem in Red Hook became progressively worse, with a recent influx of Chinese Mafia institutions in the very low income neighborhood muscling in on territory formerly belonging to the Civella crime family.

With the only full-frontal view of the Statue of Liberty, Red Hook has the dubious honor of being so close to the shadow of lady Liberty, while being a haven of criminals and crime activity. Private ferries operate out of the Red Hook ports going to and from Staten Island while operating under the Coast Guard's radar. Some residents have even gone as far as to dub Red Hook "Little Staten Island.

There's something familiar and something withstanding about Irish Pubs; in New York, they also seem to be the one thing that you can find virtually anywhere. Perhaps it is the fact that the Irish are more tenacious than misfortune. Even in the depths of neighborhoods otherwise dulled out, there remain gleaming little lights of taps, beacons of alcoholic hope in the darkness. While Rocky Sullivan's is not the biggest, or the busiest, or even the best- it is still run by easygoing men and their wives and children. Perhaps, in these trying times, they will still be able to pass it on.

Maybe Huruma picked it because of the name, or maybe she picked it cause it was the nearest dining table or bar as she was talking to Lucille on the phone. There's no emergency going on though, and it took Huruma ages to even call her; even when she was on the line, the African woman was dodging actually saying that she just wanted to spend some time with someone. Anyone, it seems like.

Still, she has only just got there, and despite a couple odd looks for her being in an Irish pub in the middle of the day, Huruma finds herself soon enough eyeing down a molasses-colored stout settling into a glass at one of the rear tables.

Breezing through the doors is Lucille Ryans, scarf wrapped around her neck. She quickly pulls it off and nods at the owners. They've seen her a few times, knocking back shots here. Alone mostly, so as the owner prepares to pour her favorite he notices her moving towards where Huruma is sitting. Eyes on the former almost supermodel, Lucille's hair is pulled back and up into a high ponytail. Grey eyes on the darker woman before her.

A loose smile on her lips as her heels click on the floor, she's getting more and more used to dressing like she use to. Albeit on a limited wardrobe but still. Her dark red top shown underneath her leather jacket is nice and her jeans fit just right. "Hey there." She calls softly, eyes on her mother/mentor figure of sorts, Lulu slides into a chair opposite of Huruma and crosses her ankles.

"If you hadn't called.. I would have went for another run." She grins, Lu works out a lot now. Why shouldn't she? There's nothing else to do.

"There are only so many places to run to…" Clearly, Huruma doesn't know about the semantics of why someone would run as much as Lucille seems to. While she understands, there is a limit to things, isn't there? Her own jacket is on the back of her chair, brown suede and brass buttons. Her blouse is fitted, off-white, its collar open to a chain and tiny pendant on her breastbone. It's a vaguely familiar shape, forked on either side.

"I didn'order you anything t'drink, so if you want something-" Her eyes, the naturally still ivory, skirt over to look at the man at the counter before she does the girl again. "-let him know. My treat, b'cause I am not much for spare money in my pockets. It burns holes in there if it let it." The joke is somewhat flat, but Huruma also just seems to be coming out of her waiting stupor, leaning into her chair and blinking her eyes open further.

The bartender is already bringing over her drink and she nods her head with a smile as he turns to go back to the bar. "Ah, thanks lady. How are you?" Luc grins and takes a sip of her drink before pulling out from her jacket a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, she takes a drag off it and blows the smoke in the air. "Habit, from the modeling days in Europe. Holy fuck.. I've never seen that many people smoke before."

Lulu gets the ash tray and dumps the ashes there before taking another sip of her drink. "Saw dad, he was being oddly.. forthcoming with information. Or at least not acting like I'm a five year old." She grins over at Huruma.

"I did, once or twice for periods in my life- not more than. I can't stand the taste now…" Huruma's hand gently sways at the air now, before she picks up her glass and puts it to her lips. When she puts it back down her mouth is still in a slightly upturned smile. "I was about t'ask if you had seen him yet. If he was being forthcoming it was probably about Heller, wasn't it?" Her smile is more for Ben's ability to be forthcoming, not so much Heller.

"How was he moving?" This could be an odd question given that Huruma has given no context; Lucille may or may not remember his movements from the visit, but on the offchance she does, Huruma asks.

"I only do it every so often, I'll quit soon. I go through a pack every two months." She chuckles, hardly a hardcore smoker. Lu nods her head at Huruma. "Yeah, he asked me to keep my ear to the ground. Which makes me think he must really not know anything about this man to ask me for help." A bitter truth for Lucille to admit, but she does. Her shoulder lifts in a shrug.

The oldest Ryans daughter blinks and she stares at Huruma, gaze narrowing. "Fine.. why would he be moving differently?" Her light grey eyes focused on Huruma.

Oh. Of course, it could be like this, and she doesn't know because Ryans is too proud to say anything; the stare and question catch her a little off guard, as she seems to have assumed Lucille would find out about his injury. Huruma's fingertips play with the chain on her neck now, in a gesture of passive nervousness more associated with 'oops' than anxiety.

"He got stabbed in th'gut on th'last mission we were on. Ah- about a month ago, now. He got an infection and fever while recovering." Huruma runs a palm over her shade of dark hair, voice cautious while glancing up at Lucille to gauge her reactions. "He was doing good when w'left this past week. Your father has got t'be th'worst sick person-" The dark woman abruptly shakes her head, as if Ben were right there to scold. "Always getting up in th'night, crawling out of bed and aggravating himself. And Megan, and me, and anyone else b'cause he was not supposed to."

Lu's hand goes to her own necklace, toying with the locket on it. She grips is hard and then she's drumming her fingertips on the table. "I can't.. why.." she's practically fuming, a growl in the back of her throat almost. The little lioness isn't happy. "You know, I can't really be that upset. I had an concussion last week." Lucille rubs the knot on the back of her head as she says this.

"It's just.. I'm fucking twenty-two. He's fifty, why won't he sit the fuck down. Does he want to be around for my kids? I'm guessing not." She takes another long drag off her cigarette and then she's knocking back a little bit more of her drink.

"I just wish he would take better care of himself, you know.. I trust you to make sure he doesn't kill himself." She sighs and then chuckles, shaking her head. "So, on a scale of one to ten.. how crazy do I sound?"

"He's physically not even forty. Only almost sixty in his head. There is a- dissonance." Huruma explains this by hovering her two hands on a level, and rather than linking her fingers, some pass awkwardly through the others, at least one totally missing the opposite. "Three, honestly." Her hands fold down onto the table, and she looks Lucille over once before smirking. "I try t'make sure he doesn't. I already feel partly responsible for last month though… I should have felt that guy down there b'fore your father went in…" One hand lifts to rub at the middle of her forehead.

"You know he tried t'sit down, b'fore. He is not made for sitting still, that is why he was such a bad patient even on th'morphine. Also why he is doing things with Activities. I am sure he wants t'be around, but not if it is going t'be in a worse world. I think that is how he sees his getting wounded and such." Huruma's voice is familiar and steady, taking on its usual smooth cadence after a moment.

"You are the perfect bodyguard for him." Lucille says softly to Huruma and then she takes another drink, "I know, he will probably still be attempting to dodge bullets when he's like eighty." A pause, "If he's still trying, I'll chain him to a bed in a old people's home. I swear to you." There's another drag of her cancer stick and she blows the smoke over her shoulder. "As long as he's okay, but if he doesn't let that wound heal. I'll make him sleep." She says with a hand held up, wiggling her fingers.

"How is everything with you though? You're so apart of our family I sometimes forget you have your own life and problems. Sorry, us Ryans tend to be attention whores I guess." She grins over her cup at Huruma.

"I think he'd jump out of a window if you tried t'put him in a home." Huruma can't help but laugh, and it is a real one to boot. "He slept enough with the fever going on, I think. It should heal perfectly fine, as long as he does not start chasing bad guys anytime soon."

"Yes. You all can be like that." She warns a little, keeping a personal note that they are kind of just- well- whores in general. She keeps that to herself, obviously. "M'son is doing his best, still. M'daughter is still living quietly upstate with a dear friend of mine. I think I told you girls about her… she is like a child in her head, you know? So that quiet is good for her. Ju is carefree from all that goes on, I always hope." Nothing to say otherwise.

"My problems are not so much with my own family." Huruma glances up and buries her lips on the glass of stout. The tone that she used may be implying that even when not having to talk about Lucille's clan, it is still a centerpiece.

Chuckling with Huruma, Lucille nods her head. "Yeah he would, but he better learn to take better care of himself." The dark haired woman says and then she's looking at Huruma as she smokes a bit more, tapping the ash into the tray. "Yeah, I remember what you were saying about your daughter." A sad thing but really, people like that have so much innocence to cling too. It's really beautiful if you think about it.

"I still think we have to have a big family dinner one night. It'll be fun and everyone can get to know one another. You'll love it."

"If Dajan ever comes over here for state reasons, I imagine that he would like that. I need t'visit Juwariya regardless. Sometime soon, in spring…" Huruma's gaze trails off into the air for a few moments, and she seems torn between something. It appears to pass, however. "I'ave told your father he would get along with Dajan, I am no'sure he believed me. I can only wish m'children here, though. Th'unfortunate truth is that it will be hard."

"But even if I could impose on a Ryans clan dinner-" Well. Huruma laughs now, a bit tickled by the idea of it, however unlikely.

"It's always good to keep family near. Who knows, maybe they'll live here one day and you three can be together. Hm?" Lu says with a soft smile, because she can't imagine Huruma leaving she and her family here to fend for themselves. The former model drinks the last of her drink and doesn't even wave for a refill.

"You could never impose. You're practically family." Plus they might need Huruma's ability in case things get crazy. "I'm sure things wouldn't be that awkward, since I'm sure Bradley wouldn't come to the dinner. From what I hear, he and dad don't see eye to eye. Worst then me and dad huh? Admit it.

She partly wants it to be true so that she won't feel like she and her dad had the worst fights.

Huruma visibly curls her lip when Lucille mentions her half-brother, leaning back in her seat. "He is an accident waiting to happen." In more ways than just his damn cannon hands. "Hopefully he realizes it. He inferred t'me that he does not intend t'learn t'control his ability. I hope that he realizes better than that as well."

"I think your father would like t'know him, but they are as different as can be… It may be worse, yes." Which on one hand, is good for Lu to hear! She isn't the fighting one anymore! "For both of their sakes I expect they will simply… avoid one another."

"He doesn't want to learn how to train his farting hands?" Lucille raises an eyebrow and looks at Huruma. "I.. well isn't he suppose to be smart?" Because somebody the host of The Advocate has to be smart, right? Okay, totally. The young woman's eyes are wide slightly as she thinks about that. "I guess he is an accident waiting to happen, just think if he got someone pregnant and got freaked out about it. He'd blow up his apartment."

It is an encouraging thing for Lucille to learn, no matter how evil it must be to be happy that dad is fighting with someone else other then her. "I told him to keep reaching out because, he would never stop reaching out to me or Del. Why should he be any different? It's not like dad ran and abandoned him and my mother sure would have dragged dad by his ear to make sure that he was at every fucking baseball game that Bradley had. If he even.. played baseball."

Huruma chokes a little at Lucille's term for it. Come, now. She runs a palm over her jaw and mouth, eyes twinkling just a bit more. "No use thinking about what'as gone now- it only matters what they do from here… but they are men, and men- are not terribly conducive t'peacemaking." Neither are women, technically, but let her have her moment. "I wish, somewhat, that he an'Bradley would'ave never found out about one another. It is not b'cause I don'like your brother, jus'that it tore your father up." And parts of the relationships with his girls that he had been fixing.

"But one cannot rescind that now, either. Per'aps it was meant t'be." Maybe. Or maybe it wasn't. Huruma doesn't know the answer to that.

"If only life could be simple and easy, right?" Lu takes a drag from her cigarette and she's blowing the smoke over her shoulder again. "We'll just have to see what happens, but with the way things have been going around here. Nothing will get less tense for a while. Too much going on."

Lucille's eyes wander around the pub, " I wonder what it would have been like to grow up the middle child.. and then I shake me head. I probably would have been really pissed. I heard the middle child always feels the most left out." She looks up towards the ceiling, thank you universe for looking out for me.

"At least you were not th'last of three, hm? M'brother was always bigger, m'sister always more of a girl- an'then me, th'last, th'weird one." Huruma seems to be able to recount those formative years with some measure of grace, eyes wandering into further thoughts. They go back to Lucille when it appears as if Huruma has had enough thinking on her siblings. Part of her wonders a little, if her family is even still alive. Supposedly they are spread out, but there is no way to know.

"You girls are lucky t'have him, you know. My father was no prize. Yours deserves all th'love he can get from you." Huruma finishes off her drink, tongue running a dab of foam from her lip, even that being somehow thoughtful.

"I was the weird one, until high school. I use to read at recess.. all the time. I always had my nose in a book. Bullied often and then those same boys and girls that bullied me in grade school?" Lucille says with a bitter smile, "One became my first boyfriend, the other was one of my 'best friends'." Lu says with quotation marks, "I never forgot though, what they all thought of me before I guess my looks came in?" She still isn't sure what changed everyone's mind about her. Besides the fact that she started to look really pretty.

"I'll always love my dad, I wouldn't trade him for the world. He's amazing and he's so strong, I want to be just like him." Lucille quietly admits this and smokes a little more, the smoke wafting up towards the ceiling. "My lion." She breathes out softly, eyes to the side. Not looking towards Huruma. She admires her father's strength and character so much.

"I killed someone when I was eight or nine, m'family booted me off. Nothing doing with murderers." Huruma notes this easily enough; it seems like a nothing doing for her too. "Haven'seem them since then. Don'feel I should." Still has Etana though, for now. "High school for me wasn't much different, they kicked m'out for biting off a girl's finger." Huruma gives Lucille a wisp of a smile, the breathy laugh as knowing as can be. "He is, yes."

"I'm proud t'be his friend. I regret how I met him years ago, when he was working. Knowing what happened, I look back and cringe."

Instead of cringing like probably most people would at Huruma's words, Luci simply nods her head and stares into Huruma's white ones. They've always been such an intriguing feature, let's face it. Everything about Huruma is unforgettable. "Sounds like you were a handful." She chuckles softly, almost done with her cancer stick. She can't stand to smell like them afterwards, she usually tries to shower right after if not really soon after she is done smoking one. "I bet life was hard for you, back there."

"At least dad has a best friend like you now, better that you got to start over and get to this point, then be where you once were, hm?" Snubbing her cigarette out, Lu smiles softly towards Huruma. "I'm really glad you're in our lives, just in case you never knew that."

A handful would be an understatement, but it does manage to give Huruma a more calm expression. "Yes, it's better that we got that, even if it is harder for him than for me. He is not as mercurial about events. We are both so stubborn that it took more than half a year t'where he would call me his friend. We are not th'budging-est." She shakes her head once, and gives Lucille a benevolent sort of stare- for her it comes off as more of something passive than welcoming, but it is there.

"I hope that is not th'case only b'cause I keep playing heroine." The dark woman laughs, the noise sharp against her lips. "But- thank you."

"Oh just you wait, I'll be riding in one day to save you and dad's asses one day. Return the favor from you guys coming to get me and Del that one time we were kidnapped. Jeez, so much has changed since then.." Lucille's facial expression becomes guarded, though her emotions radiate what she doesn't physically project. Regret. "So much.." she almost whispers more to herself then to Huruma. Maybe things would have been better if she just stayed away in Europe and never came back. Why did she come back?

It's always these questions that get her in the end, always. She dreams about them, often. What if one little thing had changed, but that's the same for everyone. Isn't it?

Lu's eyes blink away the tears, she refuses to cry in front of people now. It's a sign of weakness and she just can't afford to be fucking weak. Not anymore. "But I guess this beats walking down the runway in impossibly high heels and awesome but body constricting clothes." She laughs aloud, eyes closed.

Huruma keeps her gaze on Lucille even as the girl begins to flake apart at the surface, and down under it where Huruma can feel it best stirring. She does not say anything to begin with, and after a few passing moments all that she does eventually offer is an outstretched hand to curl over one of Lucille's like a deceptively gentle spider, long-legged and dark.

"If we have anything t'say about it, we'll'ave you back up there someday." The tiniest of smirks comes with that, a quirk of full lips.

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