Participants:
| Scene Title | Glad You Will Be There. |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sable records Abigail's June 10th Vision. |
| Date | July 10, 2010 |
Le Rivage - Abby's Apartment
Last time Sable went seeking Abby, it was for band business. Business that never came to fruition, seeing as the venue Sable was aiming to get access too has gone up in flames. Still, Sable's band (still unnamed) has, not for lack of enthusiasm, gotten their shit together for one than one gig so… it's really their own fault.
But this is Ferry business, and Sable tries to make that clear ahead of time. She's not bugging Abby for her health. She wouldn't mind that. But no, this is for serious, guys. For super serious. The camera Sable has held under one arm proves it, despite her ensemble. Which ensemble is… uh… interesting. A paisley tunic, hemp cargo pants (they breath well, thankfully, considering the heat that persists even into the evening), and a pair of purple-lensed John Lennon glasses that conceal her weird yellow eyes.
She arrives at the door around 7ish, give or take. She may have missed her first bus. She may have been distracted by something or other. These things happen.
Hopefully Abby will understand that.
Huruma's not here yet to deposit a squalling infant. Peter's not here, somewhere else though he's been showing up again and it's been a quiet truce between them. She's requested work in the bay so far until Peter says otherwise, that he wants her in the rig with him. Means she can go easy on her pills too.
So when Sable comes around, asking for Ferry related business, she's not about to turn the woman away. The knock on the door and oddly dressed woman is met with Abigail on the other side with her cotton candy pink hair - Who's roots, seem to be consistently pink as well bringing about debate as to whether she dye's it every week - uniform pants, white undershirt beneath her navy work shirt, stuff still strewn about. She's not the only one who's late. So sable shouldn't feel guilty.
Not that sable would likely feel guilty.
WRiggling puppy in arms that's growing bigger by the day and looking like it might be a fair sized dog, it's southern greetings and a quick ushering in of the purple lensed woman so that she can let the dog go. "You want something to drink?"
Sable sidles in the door, stooping a bit to give the dog a big grin. "Howdy there, hound," she lifts her eyes to Abby, "What the hell's with all th' pretty girls with dogs, eh? I can't visit one single solitary gal's home without havin' also t' charm some hound dog that she's got 'round th' house." She makes a 'tch' sound with her tongue, and straightens to her full height (for what little it's worth). "Nice t' see y' again, Miss Superior. I won't take up too much 'f yer time, not unless y' ask reeeeal nice," she tips her glasses down, getting a clear, unfiltered view of Abby, "Still lovin' the hair, hon. 'n' I'd love a drink if y've got somethin' 'n' don't mind servin' a gal that's less than the big two-one."
"By drink, I meant like water, soda, coffee, juice. I keep rum in the house but that's for when I have guests that are legal age" There's a slight grin offered, leaning over with bent knee's to deposit Rhett on the floor who is cautious in his approach to Sable. "That's possibly because they all came from a Ferry source. Bunch of feral dogs were going all over Staten Island. I guess Raith found a litter, mother dead and they gave the pups away, not wanting to put them down"
Dog down, satisfied that he's not going to get too territorial or bite, she's stripping off her navy shirt and kicking off her boots. "I'll have to change the hair again soon, they're making noises at work. I got as much time as you need. Friend is dropping off her kid soon, so, if you're afraid of babies, you might want to be gone by then. What's it that you need help with Sable?" A gesture towards the kitchen so that the woman can come in.
"Yer shittin' me!" Sable exclaims, "Yer rollin' with th' Ferry, 'n' y' uphold some, like, bullshit drinkin' age law fuckin' Reagan set up in th', like, eighties? Jesus, gal, what fuckin' principles 'r' y' tryin' to uphold? I'm over eighteen, 't least I think so. I c'n vote 'n' I c'n fight 'n' die f'r my country, but I can't have a drink?" She's somewhere between serious and good natured. If Abby says 'too bad' she won't be sore, but the point isn't made purely as a joke.
"Aw, yeah," Sable comments, "I tangled with one 'f them crazy hounds. Got a decent bite off it. Tasted terrible though. Ugh," she sticks out her tongue and shakes her head. "'n' no worries. I ain't afraid 'f babies. Had t' put up with th' little shit machines since I was pretty fuckin' small m'self," she suddenly realizes something, "Aw hell, pardon my french, hon. Bad habits don't stay down easy, y'know." She lifts the camera, "Just collectin' what people saw on th' day we all took that quick nap 'n' saw the, like, future 'r whatever. Favor f'r Colette. Which I got saddled with 'cause I'm a damned fool."
"Yes, I do. I'm in the ferry, nominated to a seat, and I do. Because technically, i'm responsible for your actions while intoxicated and you leave my house." Abby's hands lift upwards, her shoulders do much the same as well. "And I don't cotton to swearing for the sake of swearing" She points out even as the apology comes.
And yet sable gets right down to business and the reason that she's here. Collecting visions.
For colette.
There's a twitch at the name. "She's taken it upon herself to get folks to lay out what they saw, if they saw anything, so that maybe it'll give a clue as to what we have coming down the pipe?"
"See, that makes a little sense," Sable says, "I dig that 'responsible' stuff. Don't have so much use f'r it m'self, but I c'n dig it. Jus' as long as it ain't 'bout my age. 'cause that don't make a lick of sense." She flicks open the display on the camera, fiddling with it, already more familiar with the device, however mystifying she once found it. She is young. She's able to catch on quick. "Gotta understand, hon, I curse like I got 'n accent - matter of upbringin', 'r lack friggin' thereof. It's more work, y' see, f'r me not t'. Unwholesome, sure, but it ain't t' shock 'r, like, upset."
Her eyes flick up to Abby fast enough to catch the twitch. A brow arches. "Eh… yeah, mostly. Got her own reasons, too, personal like. But then again, who the hell doesn't, eh?" This isn't something she should have said, but some emotions have thin lines between them, and Sable has been teetering for some time. "Th' way y' say it - 'take it upon herself' - makes me wonder if mebbe there's some difference b'tween y', 'r some misgivin'? Ain't my business, 'course, but I don' wanna walk int' quicksand 'r nothin'. Like t' have some map, even if all its says is 'stay th' hell away from here!'."
"A long time ago, she threatened to turn me in if I didn't heal her father. A time when I wasn't registered and I could heal. Because of her, I had to leave a really good job that I'd had for a bit and go to ground. We don't… things have gotten better, and I don't normally hold a grudge, but Colette and I… Lets just say we're okay in the same room and I'll go to bat for her, but we won't ever be friends"
Or close proximities of the word.
"Okay, so, what do you want or need me to do. Do I need to be out of my uniform? I don't see what I saw as helping her any, helping anyone with anything in truth"
If Sable didn't have these glasses to remind her of her resolve to 'be good' she'd likely try and turn this into a rancor session. She'd bring up her own grievances and criticisms against Colette. She'd work herself up, and it's unlikely that Abby would cotton to that either. But the purple haze helps her keep her cool. A good investment. Anger management for under six bucks.
"Ain't none of us perfect," is all she says on the further subject of Colette. It wouldn't take an empath to note the restraint in Sable's voice. She's not serene about the matter. And there is a glance of something like solidarity or satisfaction as this black mark on Colette's conduct is pointed too. This bitterness does not become Sable, but Blackhearts make good music.
And it's time for business. So much so that Sable entirely skips over making any comment vis a vis uniforms and being out of them. Plus Abby's clearly not someone to be idly fucked or flirted with. Sable gets the immediate sense that she would be shut down, and likely thought less of, for making so crass and obvious a pass. And Abby's regard is already something Sable can sense herself wishing for. She imagines this may be the heart of Magnes' previous and somewhat enduring sense of desire. To be loved, after all, is to be thought of as best and highest. "Beats me what she'll do with it, but I'm gonna do 's I was told as I ain't much use t' the Ferry otherwise. Plus," she gives a sniff, "I wanna get more 'f these than the Great Big Brit. It'd kill me t' see her smugly surpassin' me." She lifts her camera, flicking it on. "When yer ready, hon, y' tell the camera yer name, 'n' what y' saw, detailed as y' can stand, dig?"
Pulling up a seat, brows raised at the notion that there's another person doing this and that it seems to be a game. She'd surely happily give her this one, maybe direct her to more people, people she knew not in the Ferry who might be willing to relay what they saw.
"Uhh, I was in a bus when it happened, on a bridge. In the vision, I was with Delilah Trafford in a store, empty and I think I'd broken into it. She was on the stretcher and we were delivering her baby. She named him walter. I remember seeing the ambulance on it's side and broken, can hear people rioting streets over and our siren going off. In the back of the ambulance, is a body, a cloth draped over it, pretty sure that it's a guy at work that we call the Vegan. Trevor. His neck was broken."
Abby shrugs gently. "Probably sometime around early evening. I think, not sure."
Normally Sable keeps her eyes steadily on the display, but at the mention of Delilah, her gaze cuts right up to Abby herself. On the tape, this will register as a slight shake of the frame, a tremor that will mean very little without some context. The tremor steadies, Sable checking the display again and righting her angle, but immediately after she looks back up at Abby, listening personally to the rest of the vision. When Abby finishes, Sable switches the camera off. She looks like she is - a little effected by what Abby heard. "She's okay, though, eh? In what y' saw?" it's pretty obvious from her tone that this is not a query 'for the record'. It's a personal question, asked personally. "She 'n' the little one 'r healthy 'n' all?"
"Apgar of eight, she seemed fine. A few cuts and scrapes, I think the same for me. She woulda have been strapped down in the stretcher in the back, so she wouldn't have been enduring the same as what Trevor did. Likely it was what caused the labor but, she seemed fine. It's not like I came witha record of everything that happened previous." ABigail replies into the camera as it records.
Apgar of the whatnow? This sounds… okay, she guesses? Sable wanted total reassurance. She'll have to settle for 'fine'. She nods, "Arright," she says, the concern still lingering in her voice, but pushed down for now, "Anythin' else y' think ought be mentioned?"
A pink ponytail swings from side to side, looking up as if she was thinking hard then shakes her head once again. "Nope. Just.. the ambulance, Trevor, Delilah. From the looks of it, it was an easy labor too. I'm sorry that that was all Sable. It was pretty benign really" Trying to placate the woman. "She names him Walter, it's a he, that's for sure. Apgar of 8 is good, means the baby was born fine, responding fine. They were sending another ambulance for us. Maybe we got caught up in some of the rioting i've heard that the visions have reoprted"
"Well, good thing y' were there, eh?" Sable says. She doesn't want the rest of this caught on tape. Even she knows she's collecting information for herself, not for the Ferry, at this point. She deactivates the camera and snaps the display shut. "'r will be there, heh." A small cloud has settled over Sable, wrinkling her brow. "Thanks, hon. That's enough, I'm sure."
'Maybe. Who knows. I know a guy who can jump through time, has seen a thousand futures. He told me once that just by knowing the future, you have already altered it." Abigail rises from the seat she'd taken up, scooping up the cat that had come out and eased it's way to her owner's ankles and started twining in want of attention. "But I hope it helped, and I hope that the events of that day don't come to pass"
"Yeah, I've been spendin' some time with ol' Tamara," Sable says, nodding, "I dig that gal. I think I c'n tune it t' her wavelength. She's 'bout as un-square 's it gets. 'n' the impression I get is that nothin's settled 'til it settles. Even a gal that can see th' future gets surprised. Which I like t' think on, at times, when I worry 'bout what is 'n' what I fear may never be."
"You've met Tamara. Yeah. She's interesting, pops up when she needs to. I've met her on occasions. She pretty much knew what apartment way back when I was moving in with Teo and Alexander, that we were going to get. Listen, I have to make dinner and get settled in for the night before Huruma shows up, you need anything else or should I release you back into the wilds of New York to wreak musical havoc on unsuspecting ears?"
Sable gets to her feet, shaking her head. "Y' don't wanna be responsible f'r anythin' I'd ask f'r, hon," she says, jibing just a little, "Thanks so much f'r endurin' me. Yer alright. More th'n. So, like, y'know… if ever y' want somethin' done, favor or whatever, you lemme know. I'd be glad 'f the chance t' get t' know y' a bit better."
'Come over whenever you like Sable. If you want to be sure I'm here, just call. Or I might still be at work. I think I found a new place, for the bar. SO when that's up, you and the rest of the band, will be more than welcome to play there." There's hope. another place to have a gig." She starts walking towards the door, guiding sable there. "ANd it's not enduring you. You're just different than I'm used to dealing with" Her smile widens. "And I'm just settling back into my daily routine
"Lord take me if I ever start becomin' typical," Sable says with a crooked smile, letting herself be directed to the door. She opens it for herself and steps outside, turning towards Abby and tipping an invisible hat to her. "I'll stroll through yer open door one 'f these days. Even give y' hand with th' baby y' say y've got here," her smile smoothes out, becomes softer, "I'm hopin' I'll need the practice, y' know?"
"You, a mother?" That raises brows. Abigail can't help but laugh at the thought. "The day I become a mother Sable, is the day you will too" Whihc might come off as Abby doesn't believe that she herself will ever have children. "You go see if you can't find someone to give you a drink Sable. THanks for coming and recording what I saw. I hope you beatthe brit"
"Oh hell no!" Sable says, barking with laughter. "That ain't the least 'f what I meant, hon." Her laughs subside into chuckles, "I was meanin' somethin' else entirely. You've got me pegged, not the maternal type. Plus," for an uncanny moment, she strikes a girlish pose, classic, one hand at her hip, the other behind her head, "Gotta keep m' figure."
Then what did she mean? Maybe another visit she would figure it out. "And a fine figure it is. Get going with you Sable" She shoo's her with one hand, go go, out the door. "Have a good evening Sable"
Loitering is a long-practiced pastime with Sable, but she knows when it's time to cut and run. She lifts a hand in a wave. "Keep on truckin', hon."