Good Faith Gestures


eileen_icon.gif odessa_icon.gif

Scene Title Good Faith Gestures
Synopsis Odessa shares what she's learned during her brief time with Adam Monroe.
Date September 24, 2009

Speakeasy Hotel and Casino — Bar

Last night may have been a long night. Or perhaps today is shaping up to be a long day. But none of that really can account for the Granny Smith apple that appears on the bar in front of Eileen, seemingly out of thin air. It's been cut up so that the slices lay around the core, resembling petals unfolded about the stigma of a flower. Out of the corner of the woman's eye, Odessa sits at the end of the bar. She lifts one hand and wiggles her fingers in a wave. Hi there.

Of all the powers that Eileen thoroughly dislikes based on past experience, Telekinesis is at the top of the list — but with every encounter she has with Odessa Knutson, she finds that it's in increasing danger of losing that ignominious position. There's just something unsettling about being in the company of someone who has to ability to put a knife in your back while you're defenseless to do much of anything about it, and if she knew what Peter suggested that Gabriel do, she would probably be in agreement.

Green eyes move between the apple to the blonde at the end of the bar and then finally settle on the glass of wine sitting on the counter next to her left hand, the traces of dark lipstick on its rim and her reflection in its hazy surface. She's been sitting here for the past quarter hour, waiting for the other woman's arrival. Logic dictates that she should be happy Odessa decided to show at all.

She isn't. Not really. "You know the saying 'if you've got it, flaunt it'?" she asks. Then, "Don't."

Invitation properly given, Odessa slides off her seat, and then slides into the one next to Eileen. "I never know what you're going to do. I'm not flaunting it, I'm just…" Her freshly dyed blonde hair spills over one shoulder as she tilts her head to one side. "Okay, maybe I'm flaunting. Just a little bit."

"Drawing attention to yourself is a good way to wind up dead," says Eileen. "Or back in Moab." She picks up one of the apple slices between two slim fingers and turns it around, scrutinizing it from different angles and noting the way the bar's dim light reflects off its glossy green skin. Rather than crunch into it and feel its juices run cold down her chin, however, she sets it back down on the counter and wipes off her fingertips on her cocktail napkin. "What have you been able to find out about Monroe?"

Odessa sighs softly, either at Eileen's statement or what she's about to tell her. "He doesn't fully trust me." Rightfully so. "He hasn't shown me his hand yet, but if I stay in his good graces long enough, I think that will change." One elbow rests on the bar and the blonde props her head up in her hand. "I got a warning from a member of the Company that they're planning to move on him. Maybe sometime soon. As a good faith gesture, I warned him. I think it's helped convince him I'm concerned solely with his best interests."

Odessa's mention of the Company draws a small, non-committal sound from Eileen, accompanied by a knit brow. "If the Company can't snare you and it can't snare Sylar, I doubt they'll have much better luck with Monroe." She raises the hand that had been toying with the apple to get the bartender's attention. No words need be exchanged. He reaches across the counter, retrieves the wine glass and disappears behind a pyramid of dark green bottles so thick that Odessa and Eileen can only make out vague shapes moving on the other side as he refills the order. "What about the people working for him? Names? Abilities?"

Odessa watches the bartender disappear with Eileen's glass for a moment, seemingly thoughtful. "He's got himself a girlfriend named Lola. I think she's some sort of thief. She's very strange. If she's got an ability, I don't know what it is." When Eileen's glass refilled is returned, Odessa orders a Shirley Temple. "There's another girl, her name's Kaylee. She's a waitress over at, uhm… What's it called? Biddy Something's? It's a pub. Anyway, the girl's a telepath." She frowns faintly. "She's also dying. I told her if she doesn't read my mind, I'll do my best to make her well again. Seems a good arrangement."

"Biddy Flannigan's. Upper East Side." Eileen knows it, and as the bartender returns with her glass, refilled, she turns her head just enough to do more than watch Odessa in her peripheral. Both her dark brows lift and form a mild but inquisitive expression tempered by the flat line of her mouth and the matte dullness of her eyes. "Do you know what she's dying of?"

"Not a damn clue," Odessa admits. "I intend to study her case extensively." She shrugs, seemingly unaffected, "Even if that happens to be post-mortem." When her drink is brought to her, she sips on it thoughtfully. "She seems harmless enough. She's a party girl. Adam's trying to keep her on a short leash."

Eileen's lips thin out further. "If you don't know what she's dying of, then how do you know she's dying at all?" Fingers curl around the wine glass' stem, though she does not lift it to her mouth to drink. Instead, she wipes the lipstick from its rim with her sleeve. "We shouldn't be making promises we can't keep. Would you know if she was reading your mind, or are you just going to take her word for it?"

"I saw what she's taking, and I saw how sick she looked. If she's not dying, she's still very sick. I'm still a doctor. And when you've got a patient that's sick, or dying, they don't lie to you. This girl wants to live. She doesn't want Adam to know she's sick. If she were playing me, she'd have Adam in on it." One of Odessa's brows quirks. "It isn't as though I have much choice. If you want me watching Adam, she's part of the package deal."

Now Eileen does drink. All at once. It's not how you're supposed to consume wine, but she either doesn't care or is more concerned about getting her money's worth than enjoying the taste of it in her mouth. Given the Speakeasy's reputation, she isn't missing out on a lot — the quality of the Pinot noir here is subpar at its very best, and although Eileen couldn't tell one variety of grape from the next, she knows bad alcohol when she tastes it.

"Fine." The glass connects with the countertop with a gentle clink, and Eileen rises from her seat at the bar, thumbing through cash. "Do what you can for Kaylee, keep watching Monroe. If you find out anything else, you know how to get in touch with me. Shall I send Ethan more of your love?"

Odessa smirks, head dipping down as she lets out a low chuckle. "Only if it's in the form of a slap in the face." She lifts her head again, giving her a two-finger salute. "I'll be in touch, Muni'~"

Eileen slips a crumpled ten dollar bill under her glass for the bartender as she moves away from the counter, the sound of her footsteps muffled by conversation at nearby tables and the casino's other ambient noise. Change rattles in a silver receptacle somewhere on the other side of the room, and someone lets out a raucous shout of joy.

This is usually the part where she reminds the blonde that her name is Eileen, but for whatever reason she opts not to correct Odessa on her way out the door this afternoon. Instead, she shows the other woman her back and disappears through the archway that leads into the lobby without a formal farewell of any kind.

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