cash_icon.gif samara2_icon.gif

Guest Starring:

kasha2_icon.gif lance_icon.gif

Scene Title Goldenrod
Synopsis At Brian's behest, Samara tries to confront a gardener, but someone followed her there.
Date April 11, 2011

The Corinthian: Rose Garden

The Rose Garden is both that as well as greenhouse, glass walls and rooftop ceiling off this little getaway from whatever weather happens to be uselessly battering at it. When the snow falls, it makes a flurry against the glass, an inverse snow dome, but right now it's clear, with a smoggy, starry night domed beyond. The outside courtyard that lies between its closed doors and the opened ones of the warm and bright hotel interior is empty of people save for those moving back and forth, a temporary and interstitial space.

It's warm in here, and smells of dirt and fragrant flowers, crowded with beds of roses, miniature explosions of colour and thorny stalks alike. Dense Indian Hawthorne hedges below the height of a knee create an artful and polite barrier between flowering displays and the gravel pathways, of which there are six coming together into a star-like pattern. The center of this starburst arrangement holds a small three-tiered fountain, bringing with it the scent and sound of trickling water. There are benches around the edges, wooden slats left naked of paint and new to look at, polished smooth.

It's midday and the sun peeks out slightly from behind the clouds, allowing a slivered patch of sunlight onto the rose garden of the Corinthian. The garden itself is relatively quiet, even quieter than a normal Monday when passers-by and city-goers alike make use of whatever green space they can find as respite from the city.

It had taken some work to look polished enough to belong here, particularly after the last few weeks where Sam had barely permitted herself time away from the Bay House. She'd put extra work into her appearance today, if only to help her 'spy' tactics. The stroller makes her appear as little more than a mother taking her baby for a walk through a little bit of green space.

"Well," Samara's voice raises several octaves as she bends over to peek into the stroller, sticking the soother into the baby's mouth as she does so, "here we are." Her eyes widen into a goofy face reserved merely for babies and cute animals, "Just like Brian asked~" She straightens away from the stroller, allowing her eyes to catch one of the benches, which she chooses as a perch. To wait. And stalk.

But waiting isn't her forte. It only takes a moment for her to become distracted by one of the fragrant flowers to her right. Her fingers reach out to touch it, only to be pricked on one of the thorns. She lets out a small yelp.

"You should be careful with roses. The thorns are part of what gives them character," a soft voice says from the side, not amused or chiding, just simply stating. The woman that appears around one of the rose bushes is tall, the ideal size of a model, with strong boned features that help that interpretation even more.

A lock of bleached hair falls into her face, briefly obscuring her steel blue eyes for a moment, before a glove covered finger pushes it out of the way. The eyes are very distinct.

The sight of the stroller causes her to hesitate, eyes lingering on the bundle of nearly one year old baby. The brown hair has come in straight, without much curl, and her blue eyes have taken on a gray tone as she aged. Babyface is still round, and interested. And not at all fussy at the moment.

The woman in coveralls of a working gardener shakes her head, as if attempting to dismiss something, before her eyes focus on the woman who has all the appearance of a young mother. "Do you need a bandaid?"

Sucking on the finger lightly, Sam's head turns to face the source of the voice. She tenses slightly at being spotted, but relaxes instants later as she remembers she's not that kind of spy; she's supposed to talk to people. "Life has lots of thorns, I think," she grins lightly as she shakes the finger like a child might shake an etch-a-sketch, evidently she intends to erase the pain by shaking it, "A bandaid would be great if it's not too much trouble. I don't want to bring any trouble is all. I can see you're probably busy or something and here I am touching the flowers. That's probably not allowed is it? But yes, a bandaid would be great if it's okay. I mean, I don't want to keep you from— "

Her cheeks redden slightly, she can't bring herself to take the direct approach with this one, but she does manage to stand as she eyes the other woman. Not that it can help terribly— like she said to Brian on the phone Kasha is a baby now. People change.

"You work here?" there's a flicker of a nervous smile as her head shakes, and her eyes widen, "Of course you work here. I don't imagine you wear coveralls for fun. Sorry.. I'm kind of.." her nose wrinkles, "Sorry. I talk too much and ask about the obvious."

"It is fine," Cash says quietly, pulling off one of her protective gloves that makes handling the roses easier for her than others, but that doesn't mean her hands aren't worn with signs of hard work. Tiny scars on her fingers, if someone examined closely, would show she's had her fair share of accidents in the past.

As she approaches, she reaches into one of the many pockets in her work clothes and holds out a still packaged bandaid. Though it was obviously intended for children, because it's a Disney Princess bandaid, specifically featuring Sleeping Beauty. "In my experience children tend to be the ones who admit they want a bandaid," she explains simply.

A name tag on the upper left breast reads Cash. "Yes, I work here."

The bandaid actually earns a bright smile. "I always thought these were more fun, anyways." Carefully, her slender fingers peel back the packaging of the bandaid and Sleeping Beauty is wrapped around Sami's finger. The wrapper is pocketed for now to be dealt with later. "I always thought Aurora was a beautiful name. What do you think?" There's a pause as she taps the bandaid, as her nose wrinkles, "Guess I have a love for the unusual."

Her eyes trail to the other woman's name tag. "Cash," she reads. "Nickname? I never had a nickname. Well.. not one that wasn't a derivative of my name. There's lots of those. Oh wait. I guess I have if Casper counts, but that was short-lived. Oh and Ghostface sometimes. Also short-lived." Her eyebrows arch upwards as she flashes Cash a large toothy grin.

"It's a beautiful garden," Sam observes as her head turns to take in the flowers. "You been here long? I mean.. did you plant it?"

"Of her two names, I think I am fondest of Briar-Rose," Cash says with a hint of a smile, though the questions on her name seem to have caused a hesitation to form for a moment, before she says, "It is my last name. Deanna Cash is my full name." The explaination is simple, and with only a small smile.

A glance is cast around at the climate controlled indoor garden, and she shakes her head. "No— this garden has been here as long as the hotel, I believe, and I have not been here for more than a few months. I am just complimenting and maintaining the …"

Whatever words she was going to use are cut off with a sudden violent sneeze from a row of flowers away. There'd been no sounds of someone following until that moment, but then there's a soft and familiar sound of exclaimation, followed by a darting.

It's a young voice that Samara knows fairly well from the last couple months. Lance Gerken must have followed her.

"Briar-Rose is also quite pretty," Sami agrees with a small smile. "Deanna," she repeats. "Dee-ann-ah," she over annunciates with a softer smile. "Sorry, I have a thing for names right now. All names. Last names, first names, middle names. Hard decisions you know. Choosing names." Her cheeks redden slightly. "I mean, for parents. It's a hard decision for parents."

She twists around at the sound of the sneeze and her hazel eyes widen considerably. "Lance!" There's a pause as she collects herself, "You're— you're not supposed— you're not supposed to be here," her eyes trail back to Cash and then back to Lance as her head shakes, "You could've gotten hurt or lost. What are you doing here? How— " she frowns with moderate disapproval as her arms cross over her chest. "You should be at home. It's not… " her cheeks redden as she looks back towards Cash, "I'm sorry. This is.. I'm… " her tongue rolls over her lips. Her head shakes tightly. She's not cut out for this spy stuff.

There's a grimace of a caught boy on his face as Lance comes around the corner. He's not yet hit his growth spurt, putting him a good foot shorter than the tall gardener, and more than a handful of inches shorter than the not tall future parent. "You were all dressed up and I was curious… I would have been fine," he says with a stubborn tone, rubbing at a nose that seems to still itch with something that caused him to get caught— and lose his ability.

The tall woman stands in silence for a long time, steel blue eyes focused on the dark haired boy and his own distinct blue eyes.

"Flowers never made me sneeze before," he complains.

"It's the goldenrod," the woman says quietly, voice sounding shaky and stunned, the first sign of real emotion since they started speaking.

"I'm not so sure— " Sami starts as she shakes her head, "You're capable, and you're wonderful, and you're really good with your ability, but you can never tell when something will happen. You can't leave the house like that— " the tone edges on disappointment, but it's not really chiding, just unhappy. Her hand reaches out to give his shoulder a squeeze as her head cants up to peek at Cash, "Goldenrod? H-how— " Her eyes widen as her hand drops from Lance's shoulder.

Her mouth gapes open as she shakes her head, "It's not.. but I can't.. " her generally pale skin pales further as butterflies fill her stomach. A hand trails to her own stomach, "You.. you're.." Brian was right. How else would she know Lance's allergies? Sam's eyebrows knit together somewhat. "You haven't been here long because— " there's a pause and her throat clears, "Why are you here?"

"A lot of people are allergic to goldenrods," Cash says quietly, backing away a few steps from the much smaller and demure young woman that's far more dressed up for this place than the help is. And more than Lance. But children can often get away with less than optimal clothes.

"I'm not allergic it just itches," Lance protests, still rubbing at his nose, and ending up sneezing into his hand again after he does. His eyes are even watering a little. It doesn't help it's the first time he's been exposed to this kind of garden. "What did Brian say?" he asks, looking more at the smaller woman the the strange tall one that can't seem to take her eyes off him.

Even when she backs into a thorny rose bush. Her coveralls get caught on the thorns, some of the petals falling off at the jarring. "I— I'm just a gardener," the woman suddenly says. "I— I need to go." She pulls out of the bushes, pieces of her clothing ripping as she does, and she begins to hurry toward one of the doors in the greenhouse-like garden. One that reads Employees Only.

"I think.. I think she's right, Lance. I think you're allergic, that's what an allergy normally is like, all itchy and sniffly and yucky, right?" Sam corrects quietly. "Don't worry, you'll feel better when I get you home— " her cheeks flush at the question of what Brian said, "Brian— he— I'll tell you later. On the way home, okay?" She nods emphatically as her gaze returns to the woman she'd come to talk to in the first place.

"Please! Kasha!" Not Cash. Kasha. "I didn't— I don't want to upset you!" Sam trails with a few quick steps towards the other woman, nearly staccato'd as she traipses towards the door, not that the phaser will walk follow, there are some things this phaser won't do, even if it's nearly impossible to keep her out. "I want to know why you're here— we.. we.. " she clears her throat, "We can help! I swear, Brian and I we can try— let us, let us try— "

Of all things, Lance just looks confused, on top of red eyed and itchy nosed. Confused at everything that the once maybe dead woman has to say, but also the name that she yells. He can't help but look down at the baby in confusion. The baby who isn't doing anything to get her name yelled like that, other than reaching her hands up expecting to get picked up— that's what often happens when she hears her name, which she's old enough to recognise.

A name that causes the woman who goes by Cash to stop, gloveless hand touching the door that she obviously intends to flee through. When she looks back at the small group, there's tears in her eyes, a tear that escapes and rolls down her cheek.

"I am sorry— " she says quietly, the hand dropping to pull the door open. "Take care of them," she adds, her tones deeper and strained. And the door closes and locks behind her.

"Who was that strange lady?" Lance asks outloud, hand pressed against his reddened nose.

Cash disappears through the door and Sam could follow, but she has responsibilities. Two of them. Right here. Right now. And she's done what she can to take care of them the last few months, she's not about to run away now. Not now. She twists around to return to her crew. With a tight, not quite convincing smile, Sam reaches a hand to Lances shoulder again as her other hand grasps the handle of the stroller.

"I… " she begins only to shake her head. "I think— " and then, with her own brand of optimism, her lips curl into an easier half smile, "I think she's someone who doesn't belong here. Like us~ " With a small shuffle of her feet, her hand lowers to the stroller. "We belong outside or in the Bay House playing that game you guys tried to teach me with the boxes— "

There's a seriousness that overtakes her expression as she hmmms quietly, "I also think," her fingers tap against the handle, "that we should stop for ice cream on the way home. Because." She swallows hard, "We deserve ice cream." Even if one of them snuck out of the house. Evidently the notion of discipline is lost on Sam.

"Ice cream? Really?" Lance says with a surprised sound that turns into a mischevious smile— and then a moment later an uncontrollable sneeze. He's going to be looking forward to the fresh air outside, even if it's colder outside than within. The strange older woman is dismissed, for the moment, with ice cream the new goal of the day.

Ice cream for sneaking out and following her. According to Lance, Samara has just became the best sitter ever.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License