Happy Birthday


deckard_icon.gif hugh_icon.gif leah_icon.gif minea_icon.gif nicolas_icon.gif roselyn_icon.gif

Scene Title Happy Birthday
Synopsis Leah drags Deckard out to Chinatown to buy him random crap for his birthday, where they run into Minea, Nicolas, and Roselyn. Hugh arrives just in time to watch everything go to hell when Leah succumbs to a dare and tries to steal some of the heat Minea is packing. Many bad and/or crazy things happen in rapid succession. It's the happiest birthday ~ever~.
Date January 21, 2008

Canal Street Market

Day or night, Canal Street is busy in Chinatown. Perfumes, purses, produce, pork, and poultry are all sold side by side in busy open storefronts. One entire portion of the street is dedicated to nothing but jewelry stores catering to various price ranges. Box vendors sell all manner of sizzling foodstuffs to passing pedestrians, some of it identifiable, some of it better left unexplained. The ambiance is one of business and pleasure.

It's cold and dark and still busy on Canal Street. People of every shape, color, and disposition huddle around stalls under orange lamps and draped decoration, with the steel stack of the empire state building bearing distant witness to all the haggling, arguing, buying and thieving going on below. Deckard is doing none of these things.

Hands tucked deep into the pockets of his overcoat, coarse stubble shaved down to a neater bristle than its usual and hair trimmed, he's here because Leah is here. The fact that he actually looks decent doesn't have to do with the setting so much as it has to do with whatever he's been up to earlier in the day, and what he'll be up to tomorrow, and the day after that. But he's here now, taller than most of the crowd and enduring the press of them with as much tolerance as he can manage.

"How about…" Leah's slim fingers spider through the box of assorted ~stuff~ that has been presented for her perusal, her gaze narrowed sharply on it in the flickering light of a gaudily draped lamp. "This one?" The chain is closely woven silver links, the pendant a stylized triple-headed flail of stainless steel. She holds it up caught in the splay of her fingers in a slink of metal, and her smile is slight and crooked. Apparently she thinks it is damn funny, for whatever reason. She wears a black cotton dress almost completely subsumed beneath the long drape of her beige coat.

Having dragged him cheerfully among the stalls, she has perused the wares assorted junk merchants, jewelry and weaponry and flashlights and God knows what else, obnoxiously not purchasing anything except one filmy red scarf currently wound loosely around her throat, but fingering practically everything anyway. The only real positive aspect of being dragged along on her careening shopping trip is that she moves very quickly and very decisively through the market, so it hasn't actually taken her all that long to rule out almost everything under the sun, although she also has not remotely made it clear what she is looking for.

Roselyn walks into the the market and walks to one of the Jewelry vendors. She picks up a necklace that is silver with a heart shaped diamond hanging down from the bottom. She looks at the price and slowly sits it back down onto the table then walks away from that vendor. She walks over to another jewelry vendor and looks around at all of the different necklaces that are arranged on the table.

Nicolas comes out of one of the storefronts, a shopping bag in his hand as he looks up and down the area before he starts down the street, moving along with the flow of pedestrian traffic. He keeps his eyes ahead of him as he moves towards one of the food vendors, waiting in line as he looks over the menu that is on display as the person ahead of him gives their order.

Minea's among the crowds as well, though not in the jeans and leather jacket she normally seen in. It's Minea Dahl, art consultant. Slack, a tailored wool jacket, fashionable boots, a real pashmina scarf. The five yards, not nine yards. She scans the various stalls, and stores as she goes, portfolio in one hand, and a satchel in another. She hasn't spotted any of the parties yet in the area, just on her own.

Deckard isn't actually that keen on paying attention to what Leah is pushing her fingers through. It's a box of stuff. Just like the fifty or so boxes of stuff that came before it. His attention flickers sideways after the gleam of split stainless steel, assesses, and ends in a half-hearted shrug of his shoulder so that he can go back to frowning at people who look at him twice. It doesn't happen as often as much as it did, say, a month ago, but he's got a few inches on most of the crowd and he's still got a couple of posters up. Somewhere. "What is it? A whip?" A pretty girl half his age shoulders past, and he gives her the ol' down and up, only to catch sight of something on the second trip that furrows his brows. Three guns on one person, in a familiar configuration. He promptly turns to face the stall in full, placing his back to Minea.

"Darned if I know." Leah slides the slink of silver back into place in the box and takes half a step back, hands on her hips as a frown creases her brow. The flicker of diamond's sparkle in the orange light of the lamps catches her attention briefly as Roselyn returns a necklace to its place and moves on; she cranes her neck, looking after the motion at the array of metal and beads and glass and jewels that make up the contents of the jeweler's stall. "Ugly shit," she affixes a cheerful label to most of the offerings, and nudges at Deckard with her elbow. "Do you want some kind of meat on a stick?"

Roselyn continues to look at the jewelry when a necklace catches her eye. It's a black chocker necklace with little diamonds arranged around it perfectly. A silver cross is connected to it that dangles. She picks it up and then looks to the vendor. She pulls out some money and pays for the necklace. When she is done, she puts the necklace on and walks to another vendor.

Nicolas glances over the area as waits his turn, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks over a few of the people nearby. His eyes fall upon Deckard just as he turns his back, so he continues on to the next person. As the woman in front of him finishes with the vendor, he turns and steps up to place his food order.

Minea easily slides into place behind Nicolas, in need of food that isn't a teeney tiny artistically placed snack that is supposed to represent a full meal. Deckard's not spotted, or at least Minea's not giving off any clues that she's seen him. The belt that holds her winter jacket is loosened letting it fall open, the portfolio is shifted to her left hand with her purse, studying the menu above the vendor.

"No." Deckard does not want meat on a stick. The nudge of Leah's elbow is received with a flat look. One that carries over onto Minea, Nicolas, and Roselyn before he pays her back with an elbow jab of his own. "Feeb at ten o'clock."

"Boring," Leah accuses her brother, slanting her gaze after his to take in the clump of three. She glances back at him, rubbing at her side a moue of exaggerated pain. Ow!! "Identifiable, huh?" She arches her eyebrows at him, curiosity bright in her blue-grey eyes.

Roselyn leaves the vendor and goes to stand in the back of the line. She looks up at the menu and tries to figure out what she wants to eat. She doesn't look at any of the people in the line, but continues to look at the menu a little undecisive. She looks at the people in line and smiles when she sees Nicolas. She decides not to say anything to him, or get his attention. She wants him to notice her this time not the other way around.

Nicolas plays for his food before he turns back with food in hand. He offers a smile to Leah as he sees her, offering a nod. "Hey." He says before he moves out of her way to let her order. He moves to a spot nearby so that he can eat without worry of someone bumping into him. He glances around in mid-bite, spotting Roselyn and offers her a wink.

Man from the bridge, it's the first thought that shunts through Miena's mind, and… yup, that's the woman from there as well. Minea steps forward, placing her order with the server, waiting for the total to be spoken before she passes over cash. "How was your walk home" Offered up to Nicolas and Roselyn when she gets her drink, turning to face them.

"Wallet and gun in the purse, another at her waist, one more strapped to her right leg," says Deckard in answer, brows tilted up and chilly eyes washed pale by the warm touch of orange cast down from the nearest lamp when they flicker back down to Leah. "Fifty bucks says you can't get two out of three."

"Oh, what?" Leah breathes out in a puff of laughter. She narrows a measuring look across the younger woman not far away, and then arches her eyebrows as she looks back at Flint. "What am I, do I look like a pickpocket to you?" But she wiggles the fingers of one hand, consideringly.

Roselyn looks at Nicolas and smiles when he winks at her. She offers him a wave and a smile. She holds up a finger and walks closer to the server. "It was good." she says looking over at Minea when she speaks to her. "How was yours?" she asks Minea with a smile.

Nicolas glances up to Minea and chuckles. "It was pretty uneventful afterwards. How did the pictures turn out?" He asks her before he looks to Roselyn. "How are you doing?" He asks her with a smile.

"A little fuzzy, but, that could have been thanks to asshole who was getting in the way and trying to steal it" Minea shifts, enough to grab at the food as it's offered through the window to her. "I plan to go back and try again, since the moon is still the way it is. The agent shifts, just enough to bring Deckard and his companion into her view. A quick glance and a w ink, quick as you may to Deckard, tall bastard that he is, and then back to Nicolas and Roselyn.

"I don't know. Do you?" Deckard inquires in return, voice held to rough murmur in the oppressive hum and clatter of street vendor conversation all around, "I'm trying to get a decent read but there's all this potential in the way." Mostly potential to be a pain in Minea's ass. His jaw clenches against the wink.

"You're a jackass." Leah brushes her hands together and then moves away from him, sidling over to the food vendor and the line. She tucks a hank of hair idly behind her ear, chewing on the inside of her cheek like she can't decide what of the limited options she would like to select. Her hand falls loose to swing at her right side, aimless and casual. "Hnn," she hums skeptically to herself, expression twisting as she presses the tip of her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Totally coincidentally, she angles quite near to the other three and their conversation, the restless swing of her hand slipping briskly past Minea's hip as Leah herself rocks forward onto the balls of her feet. Nonchalant, casual, inattentive.

Roselyn looks to Nicolas, "I'm good. How are you hun?" she asks Nicolas with a smile. She walks up to the Vendor and orders a soda. She pays then walks over and stands beside Nicolas. "So what are your plans for today?" she asks looking at Nicolas with a grin.

Nicolas nods his head as he looks to Roselyn. "I'm good." He says before he looks to Minea as he chuckles. "I hope you get the shots you want." He says to her as Roselyn gets her drink. "Maybe this time, no one will try to ruin your shot and your camera won't mess up." He says, looking back to Roselyn as she returns. "Not much. Just enjoying the day."

Leah's wandering near her. The woman with Deckard. The corner of the womans eyes crinkle just a bit, the only indication of knowing the womans near. "We'll see. The clouds were jsut perfectly lit that night. I had hoped to take some shots, give them to an artist I know for some reference and inspiration. The hot dogs put down, presumably so she could put some mustard on it. still holdings onto her purse and portfolio.

Deckard, who has been taking his smug, silent time in lighting up a cigarette in the meanwhile, leans over sideways to draw a Chinese tabloid off a crate at the stall he's parked at. The paper is unfolded once, then again into a square big enough for him to effectively mask his head and shoulders. More significantly, it VERY SUBTLY hides the fact that he is staring at the lot of them, guns and all.

Leah is happily oblivious to any change in Minea's expression. Her focus is split only two ways: between the play at nonchalance while she supposedly studies the available food varieties of the vendor, and the pass of her fingers intangibly through Minea's purse. The first pass of her hand only rematerializes long enough to find the familiar muzzle of a large weapon buried in the woman's purse. The second, she closes her hand around its weight and phases it intangible, pulling it out through the side of the purse and into the cool evening air.

Roselyn smiles and looks at Nicolas, "That's kool. I'm not doing much, just have a few things that I have to do pretty early in the morning, so I am going to have to leave soon." she says then turns to Minea. "I sure do hope you are able to get your pictures taken." she says with a smile to Minea. She turns and looks up to the vendor again and notices the guy from the bridge and watches him carefully so she doesn't get caught looking at him.

It's no minute shift of weight that disappers from her purse. Minea feels it the moment it's gone surprise registering on her face. "I hope so too" Even as those words are spoken, her gaze drifts, but not her face, down to her purse. It's closed. "Put it fucking back, whatever you are, whoever you are, or I will nto hesitate to do to you what I did to your friend. You have two seconds."

While still looking at Nicolas and Roselyn with a smile on her face.

Nicolas nods his head to Roselyn. "Yeah. That's okay. I'm going to have to get going soon myself." He says before he looks to Minea as she says something to Leah. He raises an eyebrow to the woman that Minea is talking. "Something wrong?" He asks Minea.

Hugh is an ebullient presence, in his overcoat and tailored suit, swaggering along the sidewalk like he's a pirate king on his own quarterdeck. The biting cold doesn't seem to much bother him, as he meanders among the stalls of the merchants on offer. He's quite obviously playing tourist, hands thrust into his pockets as he ambles here and there.

Gosh, she went for the big one. Brows lifted high behind the spread shield of his Chinese paper, Deckard takes a deep drag on the fresh lit jut of his cigarette and watches. He makes a crappy tourist, possessing the scuzzy air of someone as at home here as any of the local rats, and lacking a camera.

Eyes lit by the bright flash of a puckish grin, Leah eases back away from the woman with the heavy gun still in her possession. She settles her weight on her heels, every muscle in her frame tensed and ready to bolt. Her habitual physical restlessness has been transmuted to the still tension of the adrenaline rush thrilling in her blood. "I call that downright unfriendly."

Roselyn looks up at Minea surprised when she says that. "Is something wrong?" she asks Minea still surprised. She turns to Nicolas, "I should probably go. I'll talk to you later." she says with a smile. She then turns to Minea, "Sorry, but I have to go. I have a few things that I have to do pretty early in the morning. It was nice seeing you again." she says with a grin. She turns back to Nicolas, "It was really good to see you." she says looking in his eyes.

Minea's facing Nicolas and Roselyn, Leah's at her back. Minea for being all dressed up fancy, a half day of playing artsy fartsy, has a large purse, and portfolio with her and talking loudly "She friends with the fucker from the bridge who's standing behind us, probably hiding. I'm not kidding. You have three seconds now. Put it back how you got it, and I won't rearrange a face like I did his. I am the wrong woman to pickpocket" She turns around then, slowly, so she can get a proper look at Leah. "He should know better."

Nicolas raises an eyebrow as he listens to Minea before he looks to Roselyn and nods. "No problem." He says to her. "Do you work tomorrow?" He asks before he looks to Minea and Leah again. "Did she just rob you?" He asks before he starts to look around for Deckard as he is brought up.

And Hugh just happens to be idling past when he overhears that. He's still feigning interest in the wares on offer, but he pauses, ostensibly to browse over a selection of cloisonne pens and letter openers.

"I'm not a 'fucker,'" Deckard tells the back of his paper at a mutter, which is upside down. Taking note of the fact that the bolded headlines are on the bottoms of articles instead of the tops, he hesitates and turns it over, briefly exposing his long face and scruffy hair to all parties currently concerned with the runaway MP5. And Leah. Hugh's pause earns…well. Some pause. Deckard eyes him a moment through his flimsy paper, then glances back to Leah and company. Uh oh.

Leah doesn't stay the three seconds; she stays just long enough to share the bright flash of her grin with Minea. Then she bolts, charging pellmell into the crowd with startling speed and athletic grace. Pitched by contact with her solid hip, a selection of beaded jewelry flies through the night air of the Canal Street Market. Laughing breathlessly as she runs, Leah knocks down several older gentlemen with happy abandon, and, of course, she ditches the MP5.

She does this by tossing it into the air, letting it sail freely through the lamplit dark. Wheeee! By chance, it flies … vaguely Hughwards.

Roselyn nods, "Yeah, I work the night shift." she says with a smile. "Well I really should go. I'll talk to you tomorrow." she says looking at Nicolas. She pulls out her phone and sends a text to Nicolas that reads, "There now you have my number XD." She looks back up to Nicolas, "There you go hun." she says with a wink.

Fabulous. She's got heels on. Which are off in a heart beat, Minea's purse and folio tossed to Nicolas. "Watch em" as she peels off, expensive shoes off with each step, taking after Leah. "Get the gun."

Nicolas takes the portfolio as it is tossed to him, his eyes watching Minea and Leah as Minea starts her approach. "Well, this is going to get interesting." He says as he watches the two, glancing towards Deckard for a moment.

This is….wait, Christmas was weeks ago. Why is someone tossing him a gun? Hugh, while a man who has survived many a strange and dangerous situation, is fast enough on his feet to grab the gun neatly out of the air….and then stand there like an idiot, eyeing it with utter confusion, even as his brain assesses the gun and its state. Am I supposed to start mowing down the crowd like this is a thirties' gangster movie? Wait, no. Instead, he hesitates for a moment. And then summarily breaks it down. Not destroying it, but disassembling it like he's gonna clean it for her, right here and now. His hands are dizzyingly fast, like a stage magician's.

Off goes Leah, off go Minea's heels, and off goes Minea. Deckard stares at Hugh's apt disassembly of the gun, paper drooping in the half second it takes adrenaline to kick him off after Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote. He doesn't make it far, though. Maybe two steps before the vendor he took the paper from screeches after him in Chinese, and he stutter steps to a stop right in front of Nicolas. His options are considered rapid fire, and with a snap of his right arm, he furls the paper into the younger guy's face and tries to rip the purse out of his arms with clear intent to skip off after the others. Wheeee!

Meanwhile, Leah is wild and bright-eyed as she pounds carelessly through the market, taking this sharp turn or bounding energetically over that impromptu obstacle. She no longer spares any breath for laughter, but leaves her teeth bared in a feral grin as she plows at high speed toward Chinatown and the rest of the City. The easy rhythm to her gait suggests a long history of distance running. As crappy a pickpocket as she apparently is, it's small wonder she's good at running away.

Roselyn she looks up to Nicolas, "Bye hun. I'll talk to you tomorrow. It was good seeing you." she stands on her tip toes and kisses his cheek, "Bye." she says before she walks towards the market exit. She looks back to Nicolas and waves. Then she exits the market and goes home.

Nicolas nods his head to Roselyn and smiles. "I'll see you later. Have a good night." He says as she kisses his cheek. "Bye, doll." He says before Deckard appears in front of him. He staggers a bit as the news paper comes flying into his face and the purse is ripped from his hands. As soon as he recovers, he spots Deckard running off and proceeds to chase after him. "I'm going to kill him. The bastard making me run." He says, mostly to himself.

Minea's not out of shape, and she could catch her. But she's also in near bare feet, which is marginally better than running in heels. She has a gun drawn, produced from her waist, and up, safety switched off as she draws. "Stop or I will shoot you" Warned to leah, getting a bead on the woman's shoulder.

This isn't Hugh's fight. Far from it. So, rather than wade in, he drops prone. He's got neither a bulletproof vest nor a power that will help him. He is, in the same motion, however, pulling his own pistol.

Deckard and his newly acquired Man Bag shove away hard from the threat of Nicolas's pursuit, long legs pushing him into — hhhhey a trip over Hugh, who is prone and has a gun out, now. Jesus. Spectral eyes flashing blue in the stumble it takes him to clear the asshole, he manages to give him a dirty look in the split second before he starts after Leah and Minea in earnest. She also has a gun out, which is bad news for pretty much everyone, really. "Hey! Hey! I have your purse, bitch!"

"You're fucking crazy, lady!" is Leah's response to that, hollered glass-bright over her shoulder. She doesn't waste breath on anything else, like that it's a crowded market or that she doesn't even have the stolen property anymore. Rather, she turns a corner sharply and dashes at speed for the nearest exit, the thrill of the chase writ on her face like a warm, fuzzy glow. She doesn't catch her brother's voice, too lost in the wind of her own passage, which means she doesn't hear him sticking his fool neck out.

Minea could fire but Deckard's coming after her, and that switches her mind into gear. The dark haired woman turns around, safety switched back on and slid back to it's hiding place. If there was ever a look on her face that denotes majorly pissed off, now is it. Her steps bringing her close to Deckard and quick movements, the woman's hand is on his hand. Pinch, twist, wrench his hand back and in the process his arm up. At the same time transferring her weight to her right leg and bringing her knee to his lower ribs with very little held back in the way of force. Well, she tries all this.

And Hugh, realizing that Minea doesn't intend to fire, also more or less palms his own gun. Some crappy little pocket automatic, the better to be fired once and thrown into a sewer after. "Clearly you stole from the wrong woman," he observes, drolly.

The purse is dropped, but Deckard has the secondary advantage of having seen her coming. And he knows what happened last time. The slug his free right hand directs at the general realm of 'her head' carries with it the full force he's capable of delivering. Of course, some of that momentum might be lost to the fact that his other arm is being wrenched in ways — fucking ow — it really — fhhhskk. He can't complete the thought because he's looking at the asphalt, and there's a knee in his ribs causing some conspicuous cracking sensations in his side. Any further attempt to resist is temporarily stayed while he's busy hating Hugh and struggling to breathe.

Once cleared of her immediate pursuit, Leah leans against a building some distance away, the stiff fabric of her coat scraping against old bricks as she releases air in a puff of breath. Listening to the hammer of her heartbeat, she doesn't hear what she'd like to be hearing, and rolls her eyes, scrunching them shut as she lets her head rest back against the wall. "Motherfucker," she growls under her breath. Pulling her (legitimately owned!) glock from its holster beneath her coat, she starts moving back towards the others at a slower, measured pace, gaze narrowed and mouth a hard line. Doesn't it just figure that he would get the shit beat out of him as a birthday present?

That's going to bruise, but she's taken worse a time or two, the pain blossoms across her temple. Deckard's hand is still held at it's painful and awkward angle as she shift to kick again and ten, turn enough to bring her forearm, near her elbow in contact with Deckard's head, quick, fast, body weight again, bring him down and hopefully, knocking him out.

Hugh is just watching, now. No, she doesn't get to murder anyone, but she can beat the fuck out of them for all Hugh cares. That's why he was a soldier, and not a cop, new shiny Cracker Jack box badge not withstanding.

"Jesus — fhuck —" is about all Deckard manages to wheeze in the beat he has enough oxygen to wheeze in. When the knee comes up again, he blanches pale, breath escaped in a thin fog that twists loose around the tumble of his cigarette from his lips. He's held onto it this long, all for naught. Eyes rolled to Hugh (help, you prick) he sags down to one knee and the brace of a hand just in time to feel a solid bonk across the back of his skull. No pain, just pavement when he falls over onto his side. Out cold.

"Walk away, you fucking insane skank." Leah speaks quite calmly, for all the nasty language, as she advances back towards Minea and her fallen brother. Her gun is trained directly on the younger woman's head, her brows arched high towards her hairline. Though the shadow of a smile turns her mouth up at its corners, there is no trace of the familiar laughter in her eyes.

Nor is there laughter in Minea. One variable down, now comes back the friend. Minea turns, drawing her gun again, safety flipped again to off as she does. She takes a moment to study the woman. Got her gun, without opening her purse. The Minea's mind runs through possibilities. Not safe to shoot her, might hit someone else behind her and that's not acceptable, yet. Deckard's evolved, maybe her friend there is evolved as well. "I'm arresting him. I'd suggest you leave, and escape with your own neck. Sir, if you'd do me the pleasure of calling 911 and informing them that a Mr. Flint Deckard is here, and he's evolved and high dangerous. They need cars and officers here, and right fast." Not once does her gun leave Leah's form.

And Hugh does oblige, slipping his other hand into his coat for his cellphone, to do just that.

"Ffft." Leah's lip curls back from her teeth, the disgust in her sneer a fine shield for the hammer of her heart. "You wanna write yourself up for police brutality and fucking reckless endangerment while you're at it, you stupid bitch?" Fearless in light of the gun aimed at her, she slips her own weapon back into its holster in the folds of her coat. This time she doesn't run, but speaks contempt in her slow turn and the easy flick of her middle finger over her shoulder at Minea as she moves to walk away.

Minea's gun doesn't slip away with Leah's retreat, it's still aimed at the woman, the business end of it tracing and following her retreat. She's not moving anywhere until the cops come, or until Deckard decides to swim back to consciousness. "You still with me Sir?" Called over her shoulder to Hugh.

There's a nod from Hugh, though he's on the phone with dispatch. Reeling off the location with distinct precision, and a Scottish lilt.

Gun trained in that direction ( a nice empty path because who wants to get in the path of a gun, really) Minea kneels down, switching it to one hand, the other searching out to take Deckard's pulse. "Bring me my gun, if you would. They're going to want to see it. I apologize that you got dragged into this. My name is Minea Dahl."

Deckard's heart is still beating, so that's a plus. He's pale and breathing a little too shallowly for his own good, but odds are Minea won't be too sad about that. Under the flipped up shell of his overcoat collar, St. Rita's pewter hide gleams dull in the lamp light. Maybe she's on vacation.

"Hugh Wickham," says the redhead, getting her the gun. "Sorry about all this," He looks down at Deckard. "So. He's the wanted man, eh? Public Enemy number 1."

When Leah reaches her building, she falls back against the brick again, just out of sight, and stares into the night sky and quivers for a moment, gaze blank. Then she sets her jaw and angles her head, tipping an ear for the telltales of police sirens. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," she says, possibly to herself. Balling her hands into fists, she dematerializes all but her feet, turns on her heel, and runs directly at Minea, Hugh, and Flint.

It might be nice if this were a show of bravery and family feeling, but about the only thing going through her head is: Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Which is like family feeling, really.

Minea doesn't see St. Rita, she's still looking to where Leah is/was. She checked his pulse all by feel. Go Army! "Something like that. Wanted for arson, murder, probably a few other things, and he and his buddy lifted my piece from me. I think she's evolved too, because my purse was sealed and nothing else was taken…" Jesus Christ, what the hell. Minea's gun fires once, aimed for Leah's knees, her other hand still around Deckard's neck, crouched before him in a way so as to take the force of the discharging weapon. fuuuck why did she not have a vest.

What the- ? Hugh's cursing. He should've seen this coming. Literally. "She's incorporeal," he says, quickly, pulling but not firing his own gun.

She sure is! Minea's bullet sails smoothly through her intangible body to ricochet off the asphalt behind her. What it hits after that — could be a bystander, could be some really kitsch merchandise. Who knows? Leah doesn't. Sprinting as fast as she ever has, she sails through the air in a dive that actually passes through a random table nearby and falls atop Flint Deckard. No sooner has she fallen across him but she, and her brother, melt through the surface of Canal Street and fall through to the cavernous subway tunnel and tracks below. Since he is beneath her this will probably crack a few more of his ribs, poor bastard.

This is not a feeling she wants to ever feel again. Minea's between Leah and deckard and when the woman just goes right through her. THe dark haired ISA agent shudders visually and when Deckard disappears from under her, her balnce is shifted, a hand coming down to the ground and the slush, with an audible curse.

Hugh is stunned. "Oh, shite," he says, tone oddly amused, as Leah and Deckard vanished. "Bugger all that, in fact."

"Shit?!" Minea's stunned. "More like fuck. Fuck, shit… God Damnit" Cops are coming, and she's fired her gun and Christian will likely, she's sure, be turning in her grave. "Shes.. fuuuuuuuck."

"Well," Hugh says, still with that brittle cheerfulness. "I've no idea what to say to that. Other than I feel like quite the idiot."

Minea gives one more swear word before she's looking to see where her bullet went, praying that it didn't hit someone, since her target went intangible. Hopefully into a .. basket of fruit or something equally unliving. "You feel like an Idiot?" She holsters her gun, with a displeased look, digging out her blackberry and hitting some numbers "Mr. Segundo? I have to move your appointment till tomorrow. Somethings come up. I'll call you in a few hours to reschedule, I apologize profusely. One of my artists has just thrown a tizzy and not wanting to meet anyone. You have my number" fuuuck her head hurts. There's her shoes and she makes her way there, hand to temple.

January 21st: Undefined
January 21st: Heartache
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