Participants:
| Scene Title | Ginger Ale |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A few people meet and converse at Shard's makeshift hospital |
| Date | September 30 2009 |
Abandoned Best Western
"I'm sorry. You'll have to come back tomorrow. We open at five."
Yet another poor soul on Staten Island turned away. But what can they do? With limited resources and limited staff, their goal is to work so hard no one is turned away, yet still. The scruffy man makes his way away from the makeshift hospital slash health clinic slash medical… thing. Even though all the patients have abandoned the place, the lights still remain on and the staff continues to work.
There is much to clean up, a lot of paperwork to do, and other errands to do before the morning. And the morning comes all too soon. It's nearly midnight, and most of the staff of the Best Westerd Hospital hasn't even had dinner yet. Enter:Superhero.
White sneakers crunch against the dirt as knees bend slightly. Vincent King has just flown in from the mainland. A little smirk rises up on the man's features. He's getting used to having this flying ability, it comes in handy. In both hands the large rapper has two very large heatbags full of pizza. Walking forward, the ex-superstar enters the formerly abandoned hotel's lobby to plop the two bags onto the counter. "Yo, family, dinner's up." Vincent yells out. It's not like they're the only ones working hard, Vincent has never been so busy in his life. And now he has only diverted some extra minutes to treat the doctors, nurses, and other miscellanious volunteers to a little surprise. But it won't last long. He still has much to do before he can sleep. He might not even sleep tonight.
"Yo." Shard calls out looking this way then that. "I said dinner's ready, come get some!" He shouts, hoping that the staff could hear him with that.
Although she only has a high school education and only got C's in her plan to pass and yet fly below the academic radar, Peyton went to one of those Distinguished Schools that get all sorts of awards and have to fight off teachers with a stick for the right to teach the students, all of whom were children of Wall Street brokers, Congressmen, CEOs and the like. So Peyton's one of the more educated of the volunteers brave or stupid enough to come to the wilds of Staten Island. So Peyton finds herself in the unlikely position of being in charge of medical charts and files. It helps to know your ABCs if you're going to have to alphabetize, after all. She peeks her head out of the office. "I hope you got at least one without pineapple or anchovies or something weird on it," she says with a wrinkle of her nose. One of their cohorts, one of Shard's entourage, is a fan of strange pizza pairings, such as Canadian bacon and Anchovies.
Flying men garner attention. Attention of company agents who head to the island for some tree lizard soup and a beer. The latter hasn't been partaken of yet, sober as a stone in part because she saw Shard go flying by. Curiosity kills the cat and a whole bunch of other animals.
So in shards wake, there's Minea, leather jacket, jeans, boots, two weapons concealed and the third left at home for once. Hair down, loose, slightly shaggy, she doesn't look homeless, just curious more than anything. Flying man you know.
"Hold up."
Quick words as another one has come into the abandoned and retaken Best Western. However he doesn't need any of the services here, no in fact this fellow despite his own scruffy appearance is doing well for himself, and trying to do the exact same thing though he's locale is more or less closer to the rookery's finest. There's a look to the other fellow hopefully before he heads out. "If you head to Saint Joe's-the old Lutheran place, I know there are a few folks who will be there a bit longer" Wednesday night and all. "You'll miss service, but you'll get some grub and someone to look at you.." Though the people here are more qualified than his own volunteers. Hell, all he has is a NP and an ex RN wanting to help at the mission. Still, Scotch offers, before he's raising a hand to the other fellow who also has just come into the lobby. Seems like everything is shutting down for the night
Take it, I have come by too late?" The pastor asks to no one in particular. Though his eyes are set right on Shard. There's someone he's been looking for.
"I got eight pizzas with only pineapple on them."
Vincent grins broadly as he starts unloading the food. The first box is brought out and lifted into the air then… let go. But rather than drop to the ground and send pizza sauce and cheese everywhere, the box floats. It floats to the right, and right into the mits of Doctor Ameen Saman. "Where's Sarah?" Shard asks of his medical administrator. The crazy woman who has decided to head this project. Their lead doctor. A few more pizza boxes are lifted up and flicked to the side, floating through the building. Portable tables, kind of. As the boxes float different doctors, and nurses, and other staff come to eat up. Even the two surgeons have come to join.
But before he can get an answer, he's turning around to face Scotch. "It's pretty late. Almost midnight." The rapper points out. "If you're seeking medical attention, there's not much we can do unless it's an emergency." Looking Scotch up and down he deduces that this is not an emergency. "If you're hungry though." The man taps a box on the counter. "I bought extra."
Leaning back over the counter, Shard looks over his shoulder. "Peyton, sweetheart, would you mind going into that back closet and getting out those paper plates and cups I left? Thanks baby." The ex-rapper murmurs before returning his attention to Scotch. "I even got vegetarian."
"I haven't seen her," Peyton says of Sarah, and heads back into the closet to get the cups and plates as asked. As she comes out of the small room, her eyeline on the front door, she notices Minea — either Shard didn't hear her or is pretending not to hear her. "Um. She with you, boss?" she says, gesturing to what she thinks is, in Peyton's vernacular, a "Homeland Services" agent, the one who brought her to register after her kidnapping. The former socialite sets up the cups and paper plates by the pizza and soda. Wearing jeans and flip flops and a Ramones t-shirt that's seen better days, Peyton isn't that easily recognizable as the kidnap victim and paparazzi fodder.
"Naw, I got some soup waiting for me. You all work hard enough that you don't need my scrawny white ass taking any of it." Oh with how he talks, the revelation of who he is should be a little amusing, but then Agent Dahl is used to Scotch's own sailor mouth. One hand coming out as he's looking to the ex-rapper "Shard, right?" the man asks with a half grin there. "Reverend Ryan McCoy. I was wondering, if I could have a small word with you?" That is if you're not too busy.
A look is given over towards Peyton and the others eating. "If I am not interrupting' eating here. Lord knows you eat when you can..Hell I have to fight to get time in, feels like I can't get shit done, and eat at the same time." that texan drawl easy to catch. "Though if you're serious bout that offer-" meaning the pizza "I'll take a slice. Wouldn't be good to turn down hospitality in these days.."
It's not the food that interests some people. Lola has absolutely no interest in the food. Ugh, the thought of it makes her want to puke. She might do just that, had she not puked outside just moments before. In truth, only one person in this place, perhaps two, might recognize her on a good day. Today they'll really have to look. She's wearing jeans, sneakers, and a grey hoodie with the hood up. She's pale, her eyes red and bloodshot, her hair stringy. She's shuffling as she walks, arms around her belly as though she were going to - well - hurl.
But she doesn't. Instead she shuffles in, flinching away from the light like a vampire, and away from the crowd like a leaper. Instead, she shuffles right up to the main counter, grasping it as she stands on her tip-toes, peering over it, looking this way and that. Just another strung-out junkie on Staten.
"Ya'll got a….a vendin' machine or somethin?"
"That's too bad." Shard rumbles, looking around for said Doctor. Giving a brightly polished toothy smile to Peyton when she delivers. "One more thing, baby. I left extra soda from last time in the fridge in that first room on the left. You're the best." He says happily over to her. Floating pizza boxes move around the room, but Shard and the rest of the staff for that matter doesn't think anything of it. Just the usual. When Scotch comes forward, Shard arches a brow. His hands come up, palms out.
"No offense meant, Reverend McCoy. Nothing about you, but I shouldn't shake your hand." He says with a light smile. Instead he goes to pat the other man's shoulder with his large hand. The shoulder that is clothed, obviously. "You can call me Vincent. Or Mister King, or whatever you would like. Shard works too if that sounds good to you." He grins though when the man accepts the offer.
"That's what I'm talkin' bout. Get this man some pizza." He says emphatically to no one in particular. "Well if you want a small word, that's best. I don't do well with big words. But talk, Reverend. A pleasure havin' you come by. What can I help you with?"
One hand comes up though as if to say 'give me one minute' turning his attention to the newly arrived ladies, the rapper arches his brow. "Ladies, we're actually closed for the evenin' it's very late. If there's something I can…" Lola gets a look of concern. "Pey, get this girl a water bottle." He yells out after wherever Peyton went before looking back to Lola then Minea. "What can I do for you?"
"Don't think there's much that you can do for me. I'm not in a bind like-" There's a gesture to Lola as she appears. Girl is in a bad way. "I just saw you flying and thought I'd come see what exactly was the deal. I'd heard rumors. Thought maybe I could help too. Many hands make light work" Minea answers, polite, to the point. There's a nod to SCotch and peyton as she recognizes them.
Apparently Peyton's not just the file clerk but the supply girl. She hops off the counter where she had perched, giving Lola a sympathetic look. She's been drunk and she's been drugged, but she's never been strung out to the point where she would wear a gray hoodie or dirty hair — unless of course she's been kidnapped or is trying to fit in with criminals. She heads back to the break room where, returning with three liters of soda — Crush, Coke, and Diet Coke — and one bottle of water.
The slim girl puts the soda out on the counter along with the various pizzas and brings the water to Lola. "You need anything else? No drugs, but you know. Maybe like Advil or something?" she asks, her brows knitting together as she peers at the other woman. A nervous glance is thrown Minea's way, but she nods at the recognition.
Scotch just shakes his head as he's looking back and forth between Peyton and Shard with a slight chuckle. A look to hi hand and then a nod all the same, before he's pulling it back to jab into a coat. "None taken, Mister King." McCoy's got a nickname himself, but no point getting into that. Its like a bad joke sometimes. "Well, it should be more like how can I help you, sir." and there he goes into an active at ease posture, but that is normal for the ex marine.
Though eyes are looking back towards Lola and there's a faint frown. Thanks to the hood he can't see her face too well. "Shit, she looks like it.." he'd offer help, but this is King's show. He'll let him talk here.
Lola, in the meantime, keeps one arm clinging to the counter. She shakes her head weakly, waving an arm to take away the water. "Naw, sugar, I don' need none a that. Ya'll got some ginger ale? I'm sorry ya'll are closed, but I was just lookin' for some ginger ale. It's supposed ta settle the stomach, yeah? Mine ain' doin so good…" Her dark eyes glance up, and catch a sight of Scotch. Almost fearful, she turns her head away, looking in the exact opposite direction. "I kin find some someplace else if ya an' got none…" She pulls her hood down a bit more, covering her damp brow. This girl is detoxing hard. "Just heard 'bout the place, thought ya might…."
Galncing to Minea, Shard nods thoughtfully. "If you're looking to volunteer we actually have a registration station over at the refugee camp on the coast. It's a big warehouse. Hard to miss, I can give you directions if you want." But he doesn't exactly scramble for pen and paper just yet, instead he looks to Lola. "Sweetheart, how bout you go take a seat. Our first room over here has a bed open. You need some rest. It's a one night only thing, but we'll get you some ginger ale." He gestures to Peyton as if to take care of it.
Looking back at Scotch, Shard nods again. "Well thank you for your offer Reverend McCoy, like I said. We have a registration station over on the coast if you want to do that. Do you already do work on the island?"
Sometimes Peyton wonders if Cardinal sent her to work with Shard just to see if she can take getting bossed around; it makes sense — after all, Peyton spent most of her life resisting authority figures like parents and teachers. "I'll see what I can find. Might have to make do with Alka Seltzer or something instead," she says to the drugged out woman. Once more Peyton heads to the break room to find some ginger ale or something like it. Lola's in luck. There's a small half liter bottle of it in the back of the refrigerator, with the name MARQUIS in black Sharpie letters. Marquis, one of the orderlies for lack of a better word, labels all of his stuff. Too bad Peyton doesn't care, and Lola needs it more. "Here we go," Peyton says, lofting it in the air as if victorious. She finds a cup and pours a bit in, handing it to Lola.
"Registration tent, understood" Minea answers, a glance to Scotch when he's given the same reply. "I'll be sure to stop on over there" Minea offers up a nod, a second glance to Lola before she turns away so she can head on out. There's a pat on the shoulder of Scotch's and a "Evening Pastor" Before the homeland agent mosey's off into the already set sunset.
"That I do. I run Saint Joe's which is over a bit, not too far from here." Though if you knew of the old Lutheran church its nigh close to the rookery, meant as a last stop or a place of hope coming out. Scotch is currently watching Lola for a moment, specially as she turns around and is trying to keep from looking at him. Peyton however goes and finds the ginger ale. "I was wondering if there was some sort of partnership we can do. I know you get a lot of business, and were nearly condemned as it is.." A nod is given to Minea "Evening, Ah-uh Ms. Dahl." called back before he's looking back to Shard. "Figure since we're doing the same thing…or trying too, this might be a good partner ship.."
And then eyes are right on Lola "I think you need to lay down, miss. You don' look too good." from what he can see.
No, she doens't look good. But if she looked good she'd have vials and vials of refrain in her veins. "Naw," she answers, reaching for the ginger ale with clammy hands. Poor Peyton. "I don' wanna stay or nothin…I just…was lookin' fer this…" She gulps the ginger ale down like it were alcohol and she were a dry Dean Martin. It only takes a few seconds and it's gone. Lola coughs a bit, as though it's about to come up, but it doesn't. Quite the opposite. Her tummy is rumbling, even as she tries to tilt her face and body away from Scotch as he speaks to her. "I ain' feelin' so good, wikipedia says I'll be through the worst of it in a day or so…." She sniffs again, and her tummy murmers a response. "Somethin' smells good…."
Lola hopes her name is there somewhere
"Makes sense, Reverend." Shard murmurs, scrubbing at his chin stubble idly with one hand. He looks the man up and down. "When will you next be at your mission? I have things I need to do now. But, I will stop by and we can talk about this more at length." The rapper offers before glancing back to Lola. He gives a soft sigh. He glances over to Peyton, obviously thinking she in charge of the other woman's welfare now. He nods to the pizza. "You can have as much as you'd like, darlin'." Then he's looking back to Scotch for an answer.
"You want something to eat? Feel free," Peyton says, handing the woman a plate and nodding toward the pizzas. "Actually, hold on." She leans over the counter to grab a bottle of Purell and pumps some into the other woman hands, then rubbing her own hands together in case the woman has never used the antibiotic cleanser before. She doesn't want any weird diseases getting on the mozzarella, especially since she hasn't had a slice yet — she's been too busy being Gofer girl. "There's vegetarian, Pepperoni, Supreme, and one with weird shit like anchovies and pineapple and jalapenos. Don't do that one."
Scotch watches as Minea leaves, diverting his attention from Lola for a moment. "A little." Scotch says, clicked right back in right there. As for when will he be at his mission. "When I am done here. I live there." said back towards King, finally remembering to take the slice that he was offered. "I don't have anything that can hold her..not right now. Our cots are full tonight.." As far as watching out for Lola is concerned. A bite before he's looking from the woman back to Shard. "Come by any time you can. If I am gone, I can be back in a jiff."
"Sounds good reverend." He gives Peyton a final smile. "If Doctor Mahoney comes down, make sure she gets some pizza." He gives a sympathetic look towards Lola. Patting Scotch on the shoulder the rapper takes a few steps out of the lobby and into the world.
Turning the man gives a little wave to the others before he's launched into the sky.
"I kin do it," Lola assures Peyton, taking the purell and washing her hands down. "Just cause I been rollin' in the streets don' mean I wanna taste 'em. And yeah, I never thought I'd 'ave ta make that distinction either." Food. Oh my god food. Part of coming down is, apparently insatiable appetite along with vomiting. "Sides, I don' want to stay noplace. Just gimme a slice a wahtever, I don' much care, an I'll be oughta here." She can't be found. She's terrified of it.
As Shard leaps and dissapears, Lola wrinkles her nose, looking up. The light might catch her face enough to be recognized. "Hey, ain' that that fellah from the cage fightin'?" The night she met Adam for hte first time. She wrinkles her nose even deeper. Adam - the reason she's here. Pizza. Think of pizza.
Nodding to Shard before he disappears, Peyton turns back to Lola. "You can stay or not, whichever floats your boat," Peyton says with a shrug. She hands the woman the plate. "Take a couple slices, and the bottle of ginger ale's yours too. I'd suggest staying, but I won't make you — you're in no shape to be wandering around the Island. No telling who might nab you out there." Peyton's an expert on being nabbed, if she's an expert on anything at all. "I don't know anything about cage fighting. He's a rapper, that's all I know."
There's a look As Shard disappears, and with that he's looking back towards Lola. Slice in hand, Scotch is moving for the door as well. There's a look back as he can hear Peyton speaking with the other woman, whose voice is slightly familiar, but the Pastor ain't one to call people out, as is evidenced with Minea. "Stay here tonight, girl." said over to Lola, as he reaches the doorway. "Street will be shitty to be on tonight.." A nod is given over to Peyton before he too is slipping out. He's got his own things to take care of.
Scotch's voice reminds Lola to look away, and look away she does, straight down at her slices. "If it's all the same," she says, turning her back to the man that might recognize her. "I might just head out. I got…reasons that bein' here might not be such a good idea." For one, they'd probably make her sign in or something. For another, any of these doctors could be working for one of the two people chasing her. Still, it's chilly out.
"Ya'll got a bed near a door or somethin, so I kin slip out afore mornin?"
Peyton nods. "It's not a prison. We won't lock you in," she assures the other woman. "We have a room on the first floor here, you can stay there. Shower and everything," she says, finally grabbing a piece of pizza for herself. She doesn't stay the night in Staten too often — this is a rare thing for her, and she's ready to crash herself. "I'll show you the way. Grab some food and come on." She begins to lead the way down the hall to show Lola her room.
