Participants:
| Scene Title | He'll Know |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Abigail suss's out Griffin at his little squatted corner of Manhattan. |
| Date | November 30, 2010 |
Construction has been going on with the abandoned Tenement of late, with machines and supplies laying around the site. The bums have been cleared out long since, the place has been nicely cleaned up, and repairs have been made. It's not finished yet, but progress is visible, for those who have seen the building before the construction began.
Currently, the place is abandoned. The lobby is nicely insulated from the cold, as is the apartment that Griffin inhabits. Sure, the rest of this building is still in the works, but his apartment is nicely finished. A simple studio apartment, he's made it look fairly nice. He even has a real bed in here, now, and the kitchen is nicely repaired and functional.
Piano music tinkles through the apartment, Griffin seated at the piano he restored from a sad state when he found it in the ruins of Midtown. His eyes are closed, fingers trailing expertly over the keys as he plays, lost in the music.
Before he'd taken off, there had at least been an exchange of places to find Griffin, safe places to crash at in the city if she couldn't make it to safe house. This place had been one of them and as she had made her way there from stopping at one of the surviving safehouses of the Ferry to take the count of medical supplies regarding H5N10 vaccines, flu vaccines and who all had had both already, she's slunk into here and had crept into the place.
Now, she was leaning in the doorway, temple of her head resting against the lintel of the room that Griffin was playing the piano in, quiet as a mouse, enjoying the noise.
For a while, it seems that Griffin doesn't even notice Abby, so distracted by his music. In the midst of the song, another invisible set of hands joins the play, a duet performed by one man. Those vectors of his are fairly amazing, really. For a time, he truly doesn't notice Abby, either, playing his heart out.
However, once the song comes to a close, his eyes, completely white and glowing softly, turn toward the door. Before his eyes even catch on Abby's face, she'll feel the sensation of a hand over her throat, though none is there. It's only a soft, feather-like touch, and as his eyes catch on her face, the sensation disappears, even as his eyes fade.
"Abby. I'm sorry about that— it's a bit of a gut reaction." He offers a faint smile.
ahhh, ahh, okay, not so ahhhh. It's understandable really, but if she'd interrupted him, it's quite possible that she might not have gotten the display and performance that she did end up getting. Her hand drifts up to her throat, his actions having made her stand up a little straighter. "Off the reservation for a bit. Running errands, preparing for a trip. I thought that I might sneak on by and see if you were around, since you wanted to talk back at the memorial but I was a little busy"
Abigail doesn't enter further, remaining right where she is, a sympathetic smile for the man. "You have a nice set up here, how long do you think it'll stay like this?"
Griffin watches her for a moment, before raising a hand and gesturing her to enter. Even as he does so, he's raising to his feet and moving toward the kitchen. "I appreciate you coming over, Abby." He opens the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of tea and holding it up with a questioning look on his face. "Would you like some tea?" Even as he asks the question, he's pulling out two glasses.
"Who knows? I'd like to hope it will last. A lot of this place, I've fixed up with my own hands, both physical and telekinetic." He smiles faintly to the younger woman, spinning the top of the pitcher around to allow the tea to be poured.
"You know, I lived with a telekinetic for a while. You're the first one that I know of who doesn't actually get stuff from the fridge with his gift. Alexander was always getting beers from the fridge and grabbing clothes with it" There's a nod for the tea, she'd appreciate some. Be nicer if it was hot, but iced tea is just as good. "It's nice. It'll be a shame if they get back to fixing the rest of this area up and make it functional living for folks in the city. I'm trying not to stay in any place more than one night, do you mind if I stop here later in the week?"
Griffin smiles faintly. "I can do it easily. I use it when I try to show off. But…sometimes, it's better to do things yourself, you know?" He pours two glasses of tea, before replacing the pitcher in the fridge. Then, he brings the glass to Abby, holding it out to her with a smile as he sips his own. "Besides, with my knee and the weather, I need to try and get up and about, otherwise it gets a bit rusty."
A pleasant smile remains on his face. "I don't mind in the slightest. I have another studio apartment set up with a bed across the hall, if you need a place to stay at all. At least, until this place gets opened up…if it gets opened up."
"Alexander…I know him." He smiles, sipping at his tea again as he leans against the counter.
"It'll just be for a night. I have other places that I can go" Abigail assures Griffin, taking the glass from him, taking a tentative sip as well as if to test the tea and finds it satisfactory. "How bad are the knee's? You going to be okay this winter or… I mean, if you need to go to the Ferry, they might be able to help you" Or the neighbourhood drug dealer.
Griffin chuckles softly, nodding. "Well, the bed is free, and you know how to get in." He smiles, limping his way over to the couch that rests across from the bed and seating himself. "My knee? Heh, it's an old basketball injury, got it when I was in high school. I almost had a scholarship, if it wasn't for the injury. Tore my ACL when I got tripped up." He smiles. "So I went with my second passion, music." He gestures toward the piano. "In any case, unless you have a way to heal injuries that are nearly twenty years old, there's not much that can be done. I just use plenty of heating pads whenever I can."
"Long time ago, in a galaxy far far away I could. Maybe if I'd met you before I lost it" He's vacated the seat for the piano and that's where Abigail goes to take a seat. "You were trying to talk to me, back on the Island, right after the rescue. I'm sorry I didn't come find you before you left, I was sorta elbow deep in someones abdomen digging out bullets"
"That's fine. I understand priorities." He tilts his head to one side, a frown suddenly crossing his face as he takes another swig of his tea, formulating the words in his head. "Marjorie— she took Owain from me. I know— I know that she's back at her old apartment, and has him there with her. I even saw my dad there, when I stopped by to watch for Thanksgiving…he's gotten so old in ten years." Griffin frowns, running a hand through his hair, which is looking a bit on the long side.
Then, his eyes flash white, and a drawer in the nightstand opens of its own accord. A piece of paper is pulled out, along with a bright red scarf, both of which float over to his open hands, where he stares down at them as his eyes fade once more. "She probably thinks that I'm dead…and she's acting like nothing ever happened." He frowns. "I don't know if I even want her to know that I'm alive…but I want my son back. I want the chance to be his father…"
She hadn't known that and even as her gaze drops to the red scarf, confirming a suspicion that had been growing since his appearance on the island and his lack of resurfacing after leaving it, her - contacts in - brown eyes latch onto his, or try to. She doesn't condone someone taking another persons child away, but…
"Do you think that you can properly care for him, as it is, right now?" Abigail glances around the room.
"Not just yet. It doesn't have to be right now, but…" He turns his eyes up to Abby, tilting his head to the side. "But I have the construction job to rebuild this place, paying me under the table…and then I have a new job at Tartarus, as a bouncer. As soon as I can find a good apartment, one with two bedrooms— that's the main reason I got the bed across the hall, so when I do get a place, I can have a bed for him."
Griffin runs a hand over his forehead. "I'm making enough money that I can afford rent— I just need to find a place that won't begrudge me for being a Tier 3 Evolved who is more than likely highly wanted, these days." Green eyes turn toward Abby. "After that…I think I can do it. It's just…a matter of getting him back. I…I don't know if I can forgive her for taking my son from me, after she pushed her way back into my life and made sure I didn't want her to leave."
"Then, there's the matter of a backup plan, in case something happens…" Abby may know what he's going to ask next already.
"Legal ID? You were found on a convoy heading to a prison" Abigail points out, thinking practically. "You were in Moab, she had your son while you were there. Does it condone that she didn't tell him that you were his father, no. I couldn't condone that. But I can't condone kidnapping, which is technically what you would be doing, if you went off and took him from her"
Both her hands hold the glass, considering her words carefully. "I know a place, and the rent isn't outrageous, it's pretty good and there's security and more than enough room for a man and his growing son. I used to live there. It's pet friendly and it's in Greenwich. The Verb"
"I— I won't kidnap him." Griffin frowns down at his glass. "I just…need the time, to find a way to get him back." He frowns. "I just…I don't even know if Marjorie wouldn't just run again if I tried to come back. She wouldn't even let me tell him that he's my son…hidden behind veils of 'it is for his own good' and the like…but it feels more like she just wants to keep him."
The glass floats free of his hand, which he clenches shut into a fist, closing those glowing white eyes of his. "I don't know what to do, beyond getting a better place…"
"Get a place, keep a place" Abigail confirms. "Get a job, legal job that's above the table. Then, get a paternity test, to prove it" Someone's either done this before or just at least has watched enough television. Once you can prove that you are a stable man, who can provide security for his son as much as a woman who really hates anything close to authority, then you can make a bid, through the courts, to gain joint custody or even sole custody of Owain"
"Mind you, that's if you go to the totally legal way. As for him knowing that he's your dah, well… It's not like he's under her watch all the time and you can surely meet up with him. Break it to him gently in as much as hey I'm your dah, your momma isn't really your momma but your aunt and she's been taking care of you when I couldn't, but I'd like it if you'd see fit to let me be back in your life, in a father sort of way" Abigail lifts a hand, fingers curled except for her forefinger. "Do no, I repeat, do not bring him a present, thinking you can bribe your way into his life. Be prepared for him to be angry too"
Griffin nods slowly, listening quite intently to Abigail. "And what of the fact that I'm a Moab escapee? I have no Registration card, and if I did go try and get one, I'm fairly certain I would be arrested on sight. I'm…not exactly an innocent man." He frowns down at the scarf in his hands. "I'm part of Messiah…a group villainized by the treacherous actions of Rupert Carmichael. We couldn't stop him…his ability worked over the recordings. The media hates us…I'm certain most of society wants our heads on a pike."
"Then there's Gun Hill, exactly what I was headed to prison for. Cops were firing at unarmed people, women and children. I— I snapped, killed him, then I killed a member of frontline." He suddenly buries his face in his hands, shaking his head. "Maybe I deserve to be in that prison they were going to be putting me in…"
"His ability didn't work over the recordings. Far as I know, it was implanted to be trigger by his voice, so his ability was in play long before they played his voice" Abigail points out. Semantics, really. "So, legality is an issue" She concedes, falling quiet when he starts to get a bit more emotional. She runs a hand through her short hair, watching him from her spot for a handful of moments before the tea glass is put down and she comes over to the bed, sinking down to sit beside him. One hand hesitantly settling on his back so she can move her hand in circular comforting motions.
Griffin is silent for a long moment, taking a few breaths, before he shakes his head. Slowly, his hands lower, and he offers a weak smile to her, one that doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry about that…I've been stressed out with everything that's happened. Th— thank you, for being a friend when I need one…" He rubs at the bridge of his nose for a moment, sniffing briefly.
'We all need sometimes to be able to just let it out. Keeping it all in isn't good." When he seems soothed enough, she takes her han back with one last gentle rap of her palms against his back and they're sitting in her lap, palms cupped. "I guess your first step, Mister Mihangle, is to let him know that you're his father. He's old enough, if this went to court, the judge would put serious thought to his opinion"
Griffin nods slowly. "Then— I'll do that. I won't let Marjorie know that I'm alive yet— not until I talk to Owain." White eyes turn toward the dresser that's crammed into the place, and a photo book lifts from the top, drifting over into Griffin's hands, before his eyes return to their normal green. He's not so much showing off as he doesn't feel like getting back up right now.
Then, he opens it, revealing several pictures of what one must assume to be him and his wife. One finger strokes down the woman's cheek in the picture, and Griff smiles faintly. Then, he's flipping through. There's his wife again, a redhead, in various stages of pregnancy. Then, he stops at what must be pictures of Owain's birth. Pictures of Cindy grinning at the camera with an exhausted, drained look on her face. And then, pictures of the happy couple, holding their newborn son. Marjorie is even in a few of these ten year old pictures.
"I managed to get these…so I can remember, and because maybe it'll help me prove that I'm his dad." His voice cracks a little.
"He'll know. Kids, they know. They know more than adults realize" Abigail offers a smile, looking at the pictures as he turns the pages. There's so very few pictures Abigail has of her own parents, the one in her wallet of Robert is all she has of him. Does Robert stare at her picture? Does he stay at the condo or has he been staying at the Corinthian? She's getting a bit verklempt, and warm as she looks at the reaction that Griffin has, remembering his wife and child.
"I hope so…I know it won't be easy, and he might be angry at me…but at the very least, he deserves to know. And who knows if Marjorie will ever tell him?" He smiles, running a finger lovingly over a picture of Cindy, grinning weakly at the camera as she breast fed their son for the first time. Then, he frowns to a picture of a smiling Marjorie, ten years younger, as she held Owain. Quickly, the picture is turned to some professional pictures they had taken shortly after the boy's birth.
"Why do I have to dislike my own sister so much? It feels like she's stolen him from me…she found me, I didn't go to her. She pushed me into his life, gave me a glimpse at the possibility of being a father to my son…and then she just takes him, even after I begged her not to." He frowns quietly, his eyes still on the photos that fill the pages of the album.
"I don't know Griffin. I'm afraid I don't have the answers to that" She confesses quietly to him, her thumb stroking the bottom of her ring finger as if the band of gold might still be there and not in some little square of cotton and tucked into the bottom of her pack.
"It's not really a question that has an answer, I'm sure…" Griffin tilts his head toward Abby, though his eyes remain on the photos of a happier time of his life. He and Cindy looked happy together with their son. Happier than Abby's ever seen Griffin these days, certainly, with worry lines etched into his brow as they are. Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, and gently closes the photo album, setting it on the bed beside him.
Then, green eyes turn toward her left hand, the man finally noticing that she isn't wearing her wedding ring. He holds out a hand for her, his eyes motioning that he wants her to put his hand atop his. "Why aren't you wearing your wedding ring, Abby?" His brows raise, the man looking a little concerned for her.
She doesn't touch. Well, yes she does, but right now, she doesn't want to put her palm on his. "It melted. I lost control, doing too much warming up of rooms and I got my clothes off in time, but I didn't get my ring off in time. It's this little puddle now, tucked away in my bag" She covers the hand up, right hand over left in her lap. "Teaches me to actually wear it, instead of on a necklace. I'm hoping that Robert won't be fierce with me that I melted like a four hundred dollar ring" He won't, she's sure of it.
"You can get fake ID's, you know. With enough money you can get nearly anything these days. Social security number of someone who died in the riots who's around your age and then, you know, assume their life'
Griffin offers a slow nod, pulling his hand back and resting it in his lap. "I'm sure he won't be. I wouldn't be." He tilts his head to one side, peering at Abby thoughtfully. "I'm sure he'll just be happy you didn't hurt yourself." He then taps his forhead once. "Tungsten Carbide may be a better choice for you. Less likely to melt, I'm sure."
Her next topic of discussion prompts raised brows, Griffin inclining his head toward her. "Do you know ways that I can find these? I have the money…that's not an issue." He's been saving up, living for free here. "Because…that would be extremely helpful."
"I don't, actually. Know how to go about it. Or I would have gone about it already probably for myself. You can check out in the streets though. I'm sure your more in tune with whats the place to go if you sniff around enough" She offers simply, a glance to her watch. "I uh, I should go. I can't take a bus or a taxi, so I need to go see about buying a mountain bike. To get around the city. They don't make you swipe your cards to buy a coffee yet, so I should be safe."
Griffin nods quietly, raising to his feet and offering Abby a hand up. "I'll sniff around, and if I find anything, I'll certainly let you know what I find." He smiles down to the young woman. "If you ever need a quick ride, I might be willing to play the part of rooftop taxi for you. Little bit colder, but less traffic." He grins down to the woman.
"Thanks again for being a friend."
"I'm no stranger to hoofing it Griffin. I'm a big girl, but thanks. Just… keep a spare blanket on that other bed, you never know when I might show up and just need to crash" There's a gesture to the book of pictures. "Good luck, with Owain" The brunette murmurs. "I'll see you around"
Griffin nods slowly, tilting his head toward Abby. "There's a nice warm blanket there, a few pillows, and it's unlocked for just such emergencies. You're welcome any time." He offers a half-bow toward Abigail. "You be well, Abby, and if you ever need anything from //me, just ask."
