Participants:
| Scene Title | Futures |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | I always believed in futures, I hope for better in November | Quinn comes across Kincaid, and the two talk about (relative) past, present and future. |
| Date | September 16, 2011 |
To say that things have been hecti around Studio K might be a bit of an understatement these days. At least, that's how it always seems to Robyn Quinn, and that may more be because of her own personal business than anything going on at the studio it's self - anyone who's in the know about the radio division in particular knows how busy she's been lately, going between writing music, her radio show, promotion, and the occasional vacation out of town or otherwise finding herself busy with life.
Which is probably why she looks so harried as she walks down the hall, a messenger bag held close in one hand and a CD case in the other. Not looking panicked or anything that should inspire concern, but certainly tired and in a bit of a hurry. Glasses slip down her face as she turns one corner, the corner of her purple button up shirt catching on the corner of something, and while her shirt (thankfully) doesn't rip, the catch is strong enough to jerk her back a bit, the bag falling to the floor and it's contents spilling out every which way - notebooks mostly, a few burned CDs, whatever. She blinks, as if stunned, looking down at her stuff as if she just has no idea what just happened, and when it finally sinks in, her arms just slump and she lets out a bit of a huff.
It's been a looooong day.
Harried is a good description for a lot of the people who continue to work for the studios. Kincaid is no less harried. And likely on a caffeine high by the amount of coffee he drinks, both gourmet and straight black. Any kind of coffee tends to do wonders for him. He's not been sleeping well, from the way his eyes look, but he keeps busy. And avoids one of the rooms. As much as humanly possible.
Too many memories he doesn't want to entertain. Even if they are recent.
The bag hitting the floor, with CDs and Notebooks, pulls him out of his own thoughts in the hallway, moving over to help out with what was dropped, gathering up a few even before he sees who dropped them. When he does, he freezes.
There's another memory that's difficult for him involving this place. And this woman.
A baby girl.
"Robyn Quinn. Hi… Here, let me help," he adds, even if Kincaid'd already started.
"Wha…?" Quinn's just sort of tossed her bag down and bent over, slowly picking up a thing or two without any heed paid to anyone who walked by or up, at least until she's spoken to. Blinking, her head turns to look at Kincaid, blinking a time or two before they widen just a slight bit, and a small smirk forms across her face.
"Heya, Kincaid. Long time, no speak." Quinn says quietly as she picks up one notebook, eyeing it for a moment before she tosses it over on top of her bag. "Thanks. I don't even know how this happened, I think it's just one a' those days, you know?" She gives a small shrug, running a hand back through her blonde hair as she rises back to her feet, shoving things back into the bag. "You know how hard it is t' find someone who's opinion I trust around here? A lot harder than it should be," she muses, holding up one of the burned CDs. The smile she wears softens a bit, a hand offered down in case he needs a hand up. "Haven't really seen you around here lately. I guess I'm not the only one who's been really busy."
"I saw you a few times," Kincaid admits, but he shakes his head as if lost in thought— or perhaps saying no to the offered hand up. "I didn't come over cause…" he trails off. There's so many reasons that he could give, and he's sure, by now, she knows all about him. There's few people he's gotten to tell the secret to, and only a very few who it mattered that he tell himself.
"You look about as tired as I probably do," he offers as he gets to his feet, dusting off his suit jacket and the nice shirt under it. The only thing missing is a tie to be fairly formal. He was never one for ties.
"You on your way to a show?" It's sometimes hard to believe things still happen here, without…
"Not today," Quinn replies with a shake of her head, settling the rest of the various things into her bag. There's no real attempt at ordering any of them, not that there was any indication that there was any to begin with. She lets out another slow exhale, a finger tapping at her cheel as she watches Kincaid get up to his feet. "Was mostly looking for someone because I had a song I wanted t' debut on my show, but… you knwo, Studio K paid for a lot with my past stuff, and I'm not really, um… sure how things work now?" The tone carries that unsure, slightly uncomfortable feeling to it. The state of things at the studio these days isn't something she really talks about, or something she even knows how to approach.
Her expression flattens a bit for a moment, before an eyebrow is quirked up. "You'd do, if you want t' give it a listen?" she remarks, waving one of the burned CDs at Kincaid. There's a moment, before she smiles, a hand reaching over and patting him on the shoulder. "You should've come say hi, at least. I don't really have many friends here, and Dirk doesn't count because he wants more than friendly things," she says with a bit of a chuckle. There's a moment of pause, before she look back ahead, "Unless it's suddenly too weird or something."
"You might find Dirk a changed a bit, lately," Kincaid says in soft voices, though it's something he seems absolutely sure about. The might has a lot of added meaning. He's not sure how Dirk would act around a pretty woman. Even a lesbian.
"But I can listen to it. I got sway around here still, so I can okay the song for debut, as long as it won't cost us a fortune."
They probably don't have a fortune anymore. Just a small one. Things have been rough all around.
"Lead the way, Ms. Quinn."
"Ms. Quinn makes me sound like an old woman," Quinn remarks with a bit of a laugh. "I'm not ready t' be an old woman yet. Just call me Robyn, Kincaid," she remarks with a dismissive wave of her hand. The subject of cost - and how much they may or may not have now - gets a bit of a sour look from Quinn, her free hand slinking into the pocket of her skirt. "I know. I haven't really talked t' Dirk recently. It's just easy t' poke fun at him sometimes. I'm sure I'm no different, right?"
She chuckles a bit, starting towards one of the unused studio rooms rather than all the way back to her office. "It shouldn't really cost anything just t' play it. It's not a cover an' there's no samples, so no royalties, an' it's not really meant t' be a promotion thing. I just finished one of the songs I'm working on, an' thought I'd throw it on the radio. See the kinda a' reception it gets." Her smile returns a bit. "Though, if it does well, well…. I'm working on a new album. It may start some early promotion, I guess?" She shrugs, attention turned back ahead and falling silent for a few moments.
"You never answered my question, by the way. About how you've been. I imagine busy, from what I've heard."
Sometimes it seems better not to answer that question. But when it's asked a second time, Kincaid has to stop walking and pause a moment. "I've been better and worse both," he admits with a lopsided smile. It's seems more than a little forced, and tired. "Tired mostly, busy the rest— This isn't what I planned to do with the rest of my life, but…"
It's quickly becoming all he has left. He doesn't know what else he can be doing right now, with certain people gone, and…
"But we can definitely get your song on air. Early promotion is a good thing. And I always liked your songs." This makes his smile almost— almost genuine. "When you were an old lady."
When Kincaid stops, it takes Quinn a moment to stop as well, looking back at him with a curious expression as he speaks. Her response is a simple one, a small shrug and a smile is mostly what it amounts to. It's still weird to actually hear comments like that, to remember that Kincaid and the others aren't from her time - even if she herself was pushing the conversation that way just moments before. It brings her a bit of comfort, though, in that strange sort of way.
"You always look a bit tired," she remarks plainly, head tilted a bit. "At least now I understand why. Which I guess is one of those things where I'm glad I know, but I'm sad t' know too," she admits, letting the other hand slide into her pocket before she starts on again. "It may not be what you wanted t' do, but I've said it before an' I'll say it again - it's appreciated."
Her smile widening back a bit into a grin, she looks back over her shoulder at Kincaid. "Though I haven't had much luck getting embarrassing stories out of anyone." Which is an out and out lie and she knows it. "I'm glad you like the music, though. I'll admit, though… I was a bit surprised when I heard." A pause. "I mean, about you. Well, I guess all of it, but some of the others… I dunno, it made… not sense, but… " She stops, her hands on her hips. "Something. It didn't feel off. Or maybe it did and that's why it worked/ I dunno. Either way, you always seemed like a regular Joe t' me. Maybe I need t' start payin' more attention t' folks."
"Stories that would embarrass you or them?" Kincaid asks with that smile trying really hard to be mischievous. It still comes off as tired, but at least he's trying. "And there were a few things off— a bunch of seeming strangers who seemed to know each other despite different areas. Lene was on my emergency contact list, for example, if anything happened to me. Course the one time something did they called… someone else instead."
Calvin. A name he's not particularly happy to pronounce. He's since striked that name from his emergency contact list, and instead added JJ. That too could be confusing, but he put friend, which the man is.
He shakes his head, trying to clear thoughts of Calvin away. Calvin who ended up helping kill Kristen, the one person he'd come back to try and save. If he could.
And he failed. "I was trying for regular guy, though, so I'm glad I succeeded."
"Well, it's not like a went digging through anyone's phone," Quinn says with a bit of a laugh as they reach the door to an empty studio, quickly pulling out her key and unlocking the door. "I mean… besides you, I've only actually met Adel an' Jolene, an' it's really not hard t' believe they'd be friends no matter what." She pushes the door open and slips in, pulling one of the burned CD cases. "Though I'm sure it's only a matter a' time before I meet Adel's boyfriend. Unless that's secretly you!" Which is said in a teasing tone, her bag and things set down in a chair as she moves over to the room's CD player.
Popping it open and placing the CD in without a word, she lets it close before she turns back around - notably without hitting play yet. "It's not really my place t' pry or anythin', I don't think. Plus I always feel kinda… weird askin' Adel an' Jolene about this stuff, even if they're probably the last people I should feel that way with." That, and a lot of questions she might have about how things are then have been answered both by her dreams, and what she's heard of the dreams of others.
Enough to clearly know it's not a pretty picture.
"You look like you could use a break, though. Or as much of a break as you can get from that kinda thing, I guess." She scratches at her cheek, leaning against the room's desk.
"No," Kincaid says with that almost genuine smile. "I'm not Adel's boyfriend." He actually seems a little too amused. "I've always had a thing for older women, actually, so Adel isn't really my time. Or Lene, either. — Not too much older though!" he quickly adds, in case she mistakes him as having had a crush on her or another of the older woman who are younger now.
"I was actually involved with… someone else. Before I came back. But she stayed there…" Someone he doesn't name. And there's lots of reason for the sorrow and regret in his eyes. He's not going to talk too much about that subject if he doesn't have to.
"The dreams should cover most of the stuff— that was how we were going to handle it originally. Before things happened where we were going to get caught. Then we had to change the plans and tell you all. Cause if you caught us red-handed…" He shakes his head.
"Well, you know. And it's kind of a relief. I actually told Kristen… right before… I'm not entirely sure she believed me."
"Okay. Just thought I'd check. I mean, you never know, right?" Quinn smirks, glancing back at the CD player. "You're good guy, so anything's possible." Arms cross and fingers tap on her arm as she listens to the conversation, and the quick downwards dip it takes, at least in tone. But there is a particularly noticable look on her face at the mention of a left-behind love, one with a hint of sadness. She only knows so much about time travel, but from what she's heard from Hiro, Adel, the others - she gets the implication there, and it makes her that sort of sympathetic sad that sits on her face for a moment, even if she doesn't comment.
"A year ago, I wouldn't have believed any of you folks either. Even with the sort of things people can do," she says, one hand folding out from her side and producing a small bit of light to accentuate the point, "it still sounds really farfetched. But then a time travelling Asian with a stick up his ass asks you to go fix things in the past and it kinda changes your perspective on things." Her hand closes, taking the light with it as she looks up at Kincaid. "The dreams helped, though. A lot. Not that… I've seen you in any of mine. I - heard from Melissa, I guess right after she had her dream…" The name of Kincaid's mother is brought up with unintentional hesitation, Quinn having not spoken to her since her last mention in the news. "Still glad you guys told us, though. Makes not accidentally screwing each other over a bit easier."
There's a sudden quirk of an eyebrow at the last bit, about accidently screwing each other over. The mention of his mother didn't seem to trigger any negative emotions, either, despite certain things. Kincaid just nods, and even begins to sport a half-smile as he admits, "Knowing a time traveller would certainly help. We didn't really think of it as an option until we met one ourselves."
It's said in kind of a off-hand tone. One that sounds like he's not really intending to talk too much on that subject.
"You were always nice to me. I wasn't raised in the Ferry at first, but I think you were always friends with my mom, despite the… decisions she'd made. You once told me that she was trying to get me out of New York, and that you were going to help her hide once she was able to get us both out. She… died before that could happen. By the time I made it to the Ferry I was hardly a child anymore… Pretty much able to live on my own, but you made sure I always had enough, always checked up on me."
He ducks his head down as he scratches the hair at the back of his neck in a kind of nervous gesture. "I'm trying to say thanks but it feels like I should explain why."
That Melissa was dead, this was news to Quinn, at least as far as she could remember. It brings a sad look to her face as she looks down at the floor for a moment, arms crossing and eyes closing as she lets out a bit of a sigh. All it does is reinforce the sadness she has heard about rather consistently from all front. It doesn't help that she has no idea where Melissa actually is anymore. She takes a deep breath before pushing the thoughts aside, finally letting a smirk return as she looks up, moving to pat Kincaid on the back. "You don't ever have t' thank me. I mean, it's kinda weird t' thank me for stuff I haven't done yet. Not that I'm going t' stop you," she notes with a mischievous smile. "But you're welcome. I'm glad I was so good t' you an' your friends. I'd be finding a way t' kick my future self if she wasn't. That'd be so uncool."
She can't help but laugh at her own joke, but it passes quickly enough. "A time traveller? Was he a short Asian guy, kind of an asshole?" She rolls her shoulders a bit, leaning back against the DJ counter. "I guess that makes sense, though. I guess. I don't really pretend t' understand all of this stuff. I'm trying, though."
"No, not him," is all Kincaid says on the topic of the time traveller. "Must be a couple of them out there." Time travellers. "Course now there's fourteen more," he adds with that same joking grin, as if he wasn't just talking about his mother dying, and him being an orphan in the Ferry, albeit one who did his best to take care of himself.
"That may not have been you— but she was someone you could easily become, still. At least in part. And I know if there was a fifteen year old orphan who insisted he was old enough to take care of himself, you'd still make sure that he didn't starve to death cause he was too stubborn to ask for help. Not that it got that bad, but I was pretty stubborn. Thought I was old enough to take care of myself." And his argument for why had everything to do with the government deciding he was old enough to place in a camp in the first place.
"I guess so. I mean, if there's one…" Or fifteen in this case, that she knows of. Not that she knows all of them. "I mean, I've been a time traveller m'self, you know. You guys must've never heard those stories, or I'm willing t' bet someone might've had this idea a little sooner," she teases, smiling as she looks back towards the CD player.
"Just so you know, I'll still make sure you all don't starve t' death if I need t'. Though I think you don't have t' worry about it, working here." Fingers tap against the counter, and Quinn grows quiet for a few moments, before finally looking back at Kincaid. "Do you guys know what you're doing?" A beat. "I mean, like- at the moment? Not that I don't think you guys know what you're doing! Jesus, I didn't mean for it t' sound like that," she says a bit nervously scratching the back of her head.
"I mean…" she fidgets a bit, before sighing. "I dunno. I guess I'm kinda tired of just waiting for something t' happen. Not that I can do much at the moment."
"There are some plans," Kincaid says, though his mood has darkened a bit, which probably didn't help her sudden worry that she'd said something insulting. "Some other… things… have spiralled outside of our control. Made things happen that should not, and…" he trails off. Calvin isn't a topic he really likes these days.
And things really have gotten outside of their control. Far more than he would have liked.
"I understand being tired of waiting, though, I really do…" There's a hint of more than sympathy in that statement. "If there's something you need to do, you should do it. We're not here to tell you what to do or when to do it, even if it's tempting from our points of view."
"I guess nothing goes as planned, eh?" Quinn says, quirking an eyebrow. Worrisome to hear about, sure, but Quinn doesn't seem too phased. Instead, she leans one, gently punching Kincaid in the arm. "You guys'll get it sorted out, I'm sure. THe whole last year of my life's been a monument to things not going as planned, but if you stick with it, it'll always work out. And just knowin' the three of you I do, I don't think that's really an issue."
And then she laughs, shaking her head as she lowers herself down into the chair at the DJ console. "Kincaid, if you think I'm waiting for you guys t' tell me what t' do, you don't know me as well as you think," she says with a crooked smile. "It's nice, t' have an idea of where things go. But I've never believed in fate a day in my life, and somehow you guys haven't managed t' really change that yet. It's just…" A figner taps against her chin ash things a moment, resulting in a shrug. "I dunno. It's not just you guys."
"Well, you never know how someone's going to take it. We're not oracles or even very good guides anymore," Kincaid says in kind of a quiet manner. As if he is more sheepish than he'd like to be. They may have once knew what they were doing, but time changes all things. And what they need to do now…
"We're just guests here," he adds with a shrug. Though he leaves out the caveat that some of them are now more welcome than others. At least to him.
"I should get back to work. But if you do want help with anything you want to do, you can ask me. And not just Radio stuff." Even if he can certainly help with that.
And with that, she finally hits play, reclining once she does. Whether it's a song Kincaid's heard before or not, she has no idea. Maybe, just maybe, she can surprise him.
"Oh, right. Work. I suppose I should play that song for you, before rumour starts t' spread that we we’re in here hookin' up or something. I can't have my perfect reputation," she remarks, words practically dripping with sarcasm. Not that anyone at work would know any of her past exploits, and in all honesty Quinn hopes to God that Kincaid doesn't really either. She picks up a pair of hefty, thick headphones from off the console, slipping on their head, rendering her barely even able to hear herself speak.
"I don't think some of us would mind if you guys became live in guests, in a manner of speaking," she says as she fiddles with knobs and sliders. "Any of you are certainly welcome at The Verb if you need it, now or ever. You guys may think you're guests, but that doesn't mean you have to be strangers." She turns back to him, flashing a wide smile. "As such, I expect t' see you at my birthday on the 27th." Again, that mischievous smile sits on her face as she rolls the chair over to the CD player, taking a cord and plugging it into to the console.
"I'll keep that in mind, if I ever need the help. With anything," she says more seriously, hand hovering over the play button. "But you have t' do me a favour in return. I've told Adel and Jolene I'm willing t' let you guys do whatever, no questions asked." Turning a way, she stares at the CD player in front of her. "But I think I've changed my mind a bit. I don't want t' just sit around anymore, so, if there's anything you need, or that I can do to help? You better damn well let me know."
And with that, she finally hits play, reclining once she does. Whether it's a song Kincaid's heard before or not, she has no idea. Maybe, just maybe, she can surprise him.
"At least I hope the rumor mill doesn't think I'm your type. I wouldn't make a very good looking woman." Kincaid says as he leans back, having to add in that returning joking manner that, "I don't even look good in drag." Story for another day?
Possibly.
"But I'll let you know, I promise," he adds more seriously, as he listens to the song. It doesn't take long before he knows it can easily be aired—
But he doesn't say so and walk out immediately, instead choosing to listen to the whole song. Could be he hadn't heard it before, and wants to hear the whole thing.