Glowing Recommendations


lynette2_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Glowing Recommendations
Synopsis Gun Hill may be getting some new dead weight, as Sable goes to Lynette, hoping to pay off her karmic debt.
Date September 13, 2010

Gun Hill - Lynette's Office

Sable's been putting this off, mostly because she's flakey and doesn't think too hard about the requirements of authority when it's not breathing down her neck, but also in part because she is hesitant, very hesitant, to disturb the not-so-tranquil privacy of her domain. But Sable understands, in her own strange way, that she owes the universe big time for the set up she has, and coveting it in all its excellence is a sure way to no longer deserve it - that she deserves it even now is problematic, in her eyes.

But she's got to take care of this. She's got to see if she can offer her roof, itself borrowed from the Ferry, to a fellow vagrant. It is, after years of mooching, crashing, couch surfing and squatting, the least she can do. She understands too well Amadeus Deckard's position to kick him to the curb, at least of her own free and unfettered will.

She's never come to Lynette's office before, not being one to approach offices of any kind, not since leaving school for good and all at the fine age of fifteen. But Lynette seems legit, and so it's with limited misgiving that Sable knocks on her door, before tugging the bottom hem of her tanktop in a totally pointless adjustment.

This office is remarkably organized. Obsessively so. There's a place for everything, nothing's left scattered around, even the paperwork. The decor is a startling red-black scheme that may seem a little out of whack from the softer decor the woman's picked for the rest of the building. Her apartment included. Hell, her wardrobe included.

Only, when she's working, it seems, she fits in this space in a crisp black suit with little pinstripes. There's a hat, even, but it's resting over on a hat rack, instead of her head. Incongruently, Lynette is perched up on her desk, instead of in the chair like your average person might be, the red receiver of the phone pressed up against her ear. But at the knock, the conversation cuts with a quick, "I'll call you back."

It's as she hangs up that Sable can hear her call out more purposefully, "It's open!"

So it is! Sable pushes through the door, head first, pausing as she cases the joint very quickly, eyes settingly on Lynette at the end of the investigation. A grin spreads across her features. "Lookin' swanky, gal," she averrs, and slips inside properly, closing the door behind her and shuffling up to the desk, before Lynette. "Figure mebbe I'm a little late in comin' t' y' but…" she wrinkles her nose, "I got someone who needs a place t' crash, 'n' I've been keepin' him temporary-like at my place, but, like, I dig that this place is all Ferry 'n' all, so…" she shrugs, "dunno. He's got nowhere else t' go far as I c'n tell, 't least nowhere but the street 'r maybe some shit van so… any chance we c'n make a more long-term type arrangement f'r 'im?"

"You've brought home a stray, have you?" Lynette shifts to stand up, turning to better face the girl. "Would he be staying with you, or would he need his own place?" It's easy to tell that the gears in the woman's head are turning, churning out the math involved in all this. "And he's not aware of the Ferry or anything like that, correct?"

"Naw, he don't know nothin' far as I c'n tell," Sable says, shaking her head, arms folding across her chest, "but he used t' have a thing he could do. Hear cat thoughts which, like, I'd call bullshit on, but I didn't smell any so… yeah. He can't do it anymore, though, since th' flu 'n' all," she gives a snort, "I'd, like, prefer him havin' his own place. I mean, I got sort of a small fuckin' setup, just th' one room 'n' my bathroom 'n', like, a closet."

"Ah, yes. The flu." Lynette pulls open a drawer of a file cabinet, and starts flicking through papers until she pulls out one file in particular. "I don't suppose he has a job or anything like that?" She assumes not, apparently, as she holds the file out to Sable. "It's an application for a slot. Tell him to fill out what he can, personal information, etc. And then have him come see me. And we'll discuss how he'll work off the rent." At least the rent in this place isn't so bad. "He'll have a place. He'll just have to help out around here."

"He's workin' on that," Sable says, leaning forward to take the file from Lynette, flipping it open and giving it an entirely cursory glance before flipping it shut and tucking it under her arm, "He ain't so bad, just a bit of a fuckin' dumbass. Bit 'f an asshole. Kind 'f a sonovabitch. But mostly okay, far as I c'n tell." A slight pause. "Thanks. Y'all took me in, 'n', like, that was a first f'r me. Never had m' own place. Tryin' t' pass th' good along, y' know? Been where he is," she cracks a smile, "only I made it look better, 'course."

"Glowing recommendations, Sable," Lynette says dryly, her lips tilting in a crooked smile. "Taking people in is what we do. Soft hearts, all around. I'll do what I can. If only for the sake of your karma, darling." She chuckles a moment as she leans a hip against the edge of her desk. "I should tell you, things might be changing up around here. I'm not exactly sure how, but. Whatever happens, I'll make sure this goes through. I'm pretty sure I'll still be around to oversee, but you never know. I just don't want you to worry, if my name disappears, that you'd have to go through all this again."

'Don't worry', followed by a chaser of 'disappear', does not go down easy. Sable's brow was furrowing before those words; the word 'changing' was what started it. But the culmination brings real worry to her expression, and searching to her eyes. "Whatall d' y' mean by that?" she asks, "that don't sound like nothin' good. What's th' deal? Know lots of new folks been showin' up but… is there somethin' happenin'? I'm Ferry proper, y' know. Y' c'n tell me."

Lynette smiles a little there, her expression reassuring. Or, well, trying to be. "I'm not leaving the Ferry or anything like that. It's just… there's some worry about my name being over the door, so to speak. After all this kidnapping business. People know my name and what I can do… the wrong people, maybe. We're trying to figure out the best way to keep everyone safe. This safehouse and the people in it are under my charge, and I mean to see them safely through. In all likelihood, I'll be here, but someone else's name will be on everything. We're going to discuss it. I promise you, they're not kicking me out, that's not how this organization works," she says, her smile a little crooked. If they've got former Company agents here… they can have one Lynette.

Insofar as Sable comprehends what Lynette says, she seems to get it. She nods, at least, indicating understanding, if nothing else. Not necessarily put at ease, but her brow smooths a little. "That's some kinda bullshit. I mean… whatever, makes sense. Safety 'n' all. But that ain't yer fault, what happened…" a pause, "ain't none 'f my business, I know, 'n' I got what I came f'r 'n' all," she shakes the file in her hand, "so y' c'n tell me t' fuck off 'n' I won't be sore 'r nothin' but…" she tilts her head, "whatall happened t' you, gal?"

"No, it wasn't my fault. But it will be my fault if I stubbornly keep my name on the ownership papers and it brings trouble down on all of us. It sucks, but that's how it is." Lynette lifts a shoulder, letting out a sigh at that last question. "Nothing good."

As she sinks back into her chair, one leg crossing over the other, it looks like that's as far as it's going to go. But after a pause, she looks up at Sable again. "What happened to me… I don't want to happen to you. or to anyone else here. And I'll be doing what I can to make sure of it."

Sable stays in place, neither advancing nor retreating, competiting urges, between curiosity and courtesy, interest and caution, making her tensely static. "Pardon me f'r bein' dim, 'n', like, understandin' that mebbe yer doin' it t' a purpose, that purpose bein' t' tell me t' leave it th' fuck alone… but that ain't precisely an answer. 'n fact, it's, like, th' opposite 'f an answer. Y' told me what didn't happen, eh? Not what did." She bites her lip, "here's when y' tell me t' fuck off, by th' way, if y' need t'."

Lynette can't help but chuckle a little there, and she shakes her head a little, "I never claimed to make perfect sense." She leans over to pull out a desk drawer, where she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a fancy lighter. "Let's just say… I'm not much in the mood to recount the experience. If I ever am, I know which door to knock on."

"Arright," Sable says, nodding. Serious at first. But, hating to end things on a glum note, she hitches a smile to her features. "'n' y' know, babe, y' c'n knock on my door f'r any ol' reason. Take a lot t' have me turn you away." Sable rolls her shoulders. "Plus I've opened up somethin' of a business, givin' advice 'n' all. Sharin' my wisdom. You drop by some time, eh? Yer first mystical message 'll be on the house," she winks, "just f'r you, hon."

And that's her cue to leave. She dips her head, serious again long enough to convey her gratitude, and sidles back towards the door. "Peace 'n' love, hon," she bids, before slipping out into the hallway.

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