Hell Has Frozen Over


daphne_icon.gif quinn_icon.gif

Scene Title Hell Has Frozen Over
Synopsis Finding herself in need of shelter, Daphne takes refuge at St. Luke's where she assures Quinn Hell has indeed frozen over, and that they're living in it.
Date May 12, 2010

St. Luke's Hospital

St. Luke's Hospital is known for its high-quality care and its contributions to medical research. Its staff place an emphasis on compassion for and sensitivity to the needs of their patients and the communities they serve. In addition to nearby Columbia University, the hospital collaborates with several community groups, churches, and programs at local high schools. The associated Roosevelt Hospital offers a special wing of rooms and suites with more amenities than the standard hospital environment; they wouldn't seem out of place in a top-rated hotel. That said, a hospital is a hospital — every corridor and room still smells faintly of antiseptic..

Returning from the comparatively balmy spring rain of 1945, Daphne is dismayed to find her apartment unlivable and the frozen wasteland of New York City utterly inhospitable. Even with her ability, it's simple too dangerous to chance travelling in the elements long enough to get out of the frigid weather to somewhere more temperate. Carrying a duffle bag over one shoulder, Daphne enters the area of St. Luke's Hospital designated to as a shelter. Her cheeks flushed from the cold, she is bundled in a gortex snow parka a bit too large for her that she stole when she realized she'd left her coat back in Germany.

Her nose wrinkles as the speedster surveys the huddling masses of New York's displaced residents — it's not quite as bad as a real homeless shelter, as at least these people look clean — and come from all walks of life: middle class and upper class as well as the less fortunate. Dark eyes skim for an empty bed, but latecomer as she is, there might not be one.

Despite sitting rather close to it, Quinn is slow to react to anyone coming in the door, given the preoccupation she seems to have with the bright red guitar sitting across her lap. But a moment after the new arrival steps in, she can almost feel the cold coming from her, prompting the musician to look up at her. "Huh!" she exclaims, eyeing Daphne. "I'm surprised to see someone who's not a popsicle already. You look all a'sketch, must be gettin' worse out," she remarks, smiling. The guitar is removed from her lap and set to the side as she leans back. "No chance the snow's breakin', I take it?" Probably a stupid question, really.

"All a'sketch?" Daphne says, glancing down at herself — if anything, she looks more put together than usual, but for the frosty appearance of hair and flushed cheeks. She's in the somber black overcoat and a gray hat and gloves, though her fuchsia snowboots give a touch of color to the otherwise somber ensemble. Stealers can't be choosers — black and gray was all the store had.

"It's like negative a zillion out there, so no, it's not getting better. I, uh, just got back to my apartment and found there's no power. Flyers said to come here," Daphne says, no real quip on her tongue due to the fact she's still trying to get her teeth to stop chattering. "Whatcha playing?" she says, with a nod toward the guitar, though her eyes skim the crowd for any familiar faces.

Quinn responds with a long sigh and a shake of her head. "I swear, you'd think it was an ice age outside, and I just wanna get back to my piano," she remarks, looking up at the girl. "Bit surprised the flyers are still there, with how bad the wind seemed to be the other night. At this point, I'm expecting Hell ta' freeze over too." Scooting over a bit to allow more room for the girl, Quinn turns a glance over to the guitar.

"Tryin' to write a song, actually. Just a bit hard to concentrate enough for it here, though." While she speaks, she reaches over and picks up a notebook and pencil, immediately setting to writing about in it. "You sure got here late. I mean, I thought most people were in shelters by now…"

"Well, the flyer was on the doors of my apartment building. It's pretty frozen out there. I think hell has frozen over, because I'm pretty sure we're in it. I've done Midwestern winters, and this wipes them all off the map," Daphne says, reaching to take off her hat and running a hand through her dreadlocked hair, shaking some snow out of it.

"Thanks," Daphne adds, taking a seat and unbuttoning her coat. "I … was somewhere else for a bit. Before the proverbial shit hitting the proverbial fan, I guess — or at least to the point that this is necessary." Daphne's dark eyes glance around again and she gives a shake of her head. "I don't know if I can handle this many people so close together," she admits.

"Aye, winters in Ireland aren't nearly this bad either." As she speaks, she continues to write, occasionally glancing upwards. "I can handle a few people, Lord knows I have to with my apartment. But this is a bit much. I've been spendin' as much time as I can elsewhere, though. It helps." She looks up from her note book, and up at Daphne. "Quinn," she says, extending a hand with a smile, before retracting it a bit. "Assumin' you can move your hand proper and all," she says with a chuckle.

The petite speedster offers a hand, still chilly despite having been in gloves until just a few moments ago. "Daphne. Nice to meet you," she says politely, though she still looks disgruntled about being here. "Man, if I could find a teleporter, I'd offer to pay them whatever they ask. You don't know any, do you? That'd be a way to make bank right now, yeah? Just sign up to be a human taxi for the storm, get everyone out of dodge. Come to think of it, the government should be offering the teleporters on the list lots of money and start getting us out of here doing just that, don't you think? What good is the damn Registry if they don't use it when it's a national emergency?" Daphne's words come rapidly, strung together all on one breath.

Blinking, Quinn tilts her head at Daphne - she thinks she got all that, but she's not entirely sure. "I'd never really thought of that, you know," she responds, a thoughtful look on her face. "Not that I know a teleporter. I don't really know any evolved except-" She pauses, waving a hand dismissively. "But seriously! You'd think all those blokes who can teleport and melt shit would be right handy now!" Her gradually raises as she speaks, only catching it at the end. Looking a bit embarrassed, Quinn straightens the headphones around her neck.

"I know, right? If I could melt things or teleport people, I'd be doing what I could to help." Maybe not. "Or at least I wouldn't be here — give up a bed slot for someone else to use, right? Speaking of which… Wonder if there is one." Daphne glances at the busy room full of cots and shakes her head. "Ah, well, I can sleep on the ground as long as I have some blankets or something. How long you been across the Atlantic here?"

"If I could teleport, I'd be in the Caribbian right now," Quin muses wistfully, a long smile creeping across her face. She seesm to drift off for several moments before finally snapping back tor eality, looking over at Daphne with a raised eyebrow. "Uh, about twelve years now, I think…" She trails off, looking down toa ctively count on her fingers before blurting out. "Yep, twelve years! Never feels as long, though."

"Twelve years always feels long to me," Daphne says with a wrinkle of her nose. But the majority of those years were spent crippled, and her power makes anything longer than a second feel like forever. "The Caribbean's nice but it's hurricane season. I'd be in Paris — it'll be rainy more days than not, maybe but at least it'd be a warm rain." She flashes a smile and moves to stand off the cot, hoisting the duffle back over her shoulder. "So I should go see about a bed, or pick a corner for myself if I can't find one. It was nice meeting you. Good luck with the song."

Quinn very visibly wrinkles her nose at the mention of Paris. "You'd think that would be a great place, but lemme tell you-" She stops as Daphne stands up, and then glances around teh room. "Ah. Well then, don't let me keep you! Pleasure meeting you and all," she replies, offering another smile. "Do hope you can find a space."

The pixyish face of the speedster smirks a little. "Oh, I used to live there. I know what it's like," she assures the other woman. "But I suppose if you lived somewhere as gorgeous as Ireland, it wouldn't be as exciting. I came from Kansas, you know? Though Machu Picchu is among my other favorite places. Just so you don't think I'm all about just cafes and baguettes and sexy Pepe LePew accents." She nods. "I'm sure I'll see you around." And with that, Daphne meanders off — a fast pace from the looks at it, though slow for her — to see a man about a cot.

Quinn laughs out loud, giving a casual wave to Daphne as she moseys. "Manchu Pich, hmm? That girl really sounds like she gets around. Lucky." The comment falls on deaf ears though, and after a moment, Quinn shrugs and reaches over to her guitar. Placing it in her lap with a smile, she once more begins tos trum, likely to the annoyance of many around her…

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