How Far One Can Go


calvin_icon.gif yana_icon.gif

Scene Title How Far One Can Go
Synopsis Calvin drops by the place of Dr. Blite with a proposition, unprepared for just how willing she was, and how timely his arrival just had been.
Date March 29

Yana's Apartment


There is a man at Yana's door.

Not quite six feet tall in his shiny shoes and the black length of his coat, former agent of the institute Calvin Rosen is more readily identified by the crest of ginger dreads he has swept back from his face. …And the makeup he's wearing, kohl edged in thick as ever around halcyon eyes honed too sharp and too clear. He knocks thrice, once he's finished adusting the dusty latex snap and settle of his disposable gloves, remarkably clean to the cuffs for all that he's been on the lam. Presentation is important.

Worth the extra effort.

What a time for someone to stop by. She had just sent Christopher to the store and the post office which is just a part of a routine. Things like guests stepping into that little time frame are unheard of. She rarely gets guests at all, save for Magnes, which it surely cannot be him. Magnes doesn't drop by quite like that, he makes a call. As she makes her way to answer the door herself, Yana filters through her head the possibilities: did Christopher forget his key? Is Magnes in some kind of trouble? Was there an appointment that wasn't mentioned to her or perhaps she had forgotten? She would soon find out either way.

Seeing as how this is Dorchester, she isn't too afraid to open the door while being there herself. And the chain is across the door, so she pulls it open and peeks through the crack. "Yes?" a dark brow arches as she peers at the figure on the other side.

"Dr. Blite," says Calvin, a little rain of sparks over a trash can far to his left (out of her line of sight) the only remnant evidence of a surveillance camera that was mounted there up 'til a few moments ago, "m'name is Calvin Rosen. I worked beneath you at the Commonwealth Institute up until they fired me and — put a out an execution order." Comfortable despite the chain ensuring that the door only stays open a sliver, he winds his glov-ed right hand up the jamb to lean against the frame opposite her.

"I won't take much of your time, but I believe we may have at least one signficant goal in common. And given the true nature of your ability, I thought we might come to some kind of quid pro quo arrangement."

She remembers this man, in a few ways actually, though not together. By face, it wasn't long ago when there was a scene that involved a bit of police brutality. He was there then, Yana's memory is keen on small things and details. By name, she had heard of him from the 'office', and not in a good way. He is supposed to be killed, which Yana could certainly oblige, though she has a few concerns about it, and on top of that, she would need to come up with an elaborate plan to do it.

Ah, so he comes out into the open with the order that was placed upon him, rather bold, and interesting that he would come to her, so she will see where it goes. Furthermore, the mention of her ability makes her even more inclined to open the door. There is a it of a widening of her iris when it is spoken, "Yes, of course, please come in." Yana offers a pleasant smile as she closes to door to unfix the lock and then open it to let him in. "Mr. Rosen," she says as she looks out into the hallway, one side to the other, you know, just to be sure, "I see that you are obviously a man that takes risks. In the correct ways that is." Not stupid and reckless ones, she means.

The security camera is missing. Beyond that, there isn't much to be concerned with out in the hallway. Calvin steps neatly back to allow her to peek past him, and then in once he's allowed, a subtle distance of at least arm's length maintained on into the entry and beyond. He doesn't quite sashay past her with a mild, "Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go," but the impression is there all the same in the easy swing of one shoe past the other and a little pirouette in the region of the living area.


"So there's this miserably bigoted virus," he starts without pause dramatic or otherwise soon as the door's been shut after him, "that only attacks the likes of you and me with its ability nullification and its hallucinations and its …mortality rates. What I was thinking," and he spins again, more slowly this time and with laggard, attention-deficit appreciation for Yana's interior decorating, "is that. What I was thinking. Ahm. Oh, right. I was thinking, wouldn't it be nice if there was a virus that did the same thing, but only to Normals?"

Yana's living space is quite clean, with neutral colors and much nicer than the typical Dorchester apartment. Not that they aren't nice, but decoration makes a much bigger difference. The lighting is low today, as she had been spending some time alone with the use of her ability. It has been occupying much of her time as of late. She steps to the side to let him within, and closes the door behind him, "Wise words, I will have to relay that philosophy to a pupil of mine who is in need of some guidance when it comes to living. Would you care for anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Martini?" Yana steps past him to ward the area of the kitchen, offering up refreshment like a good host.

Ah, Cillian.. Such a troublesome and picky child..

"I'm working on that." Yana states quickly, opening the fridge to get out the milk. She'll have tea for herself. "I am in possession of the most recent strain of H5N10 as we speak." she makes a single graceful gesture with her hand, down the upper part of her body, almost a flourish to indicate what she means. That the virus is housed within her. "I've spent the last few weeks or so trying to unlock the mysteries behind it. I'm not exactly having trouble, but it is taking some time to gain an understanding. However, I do believe alterations can be made that will silence these "righteous" anti-Evos from preaching about how H5N10 is a fitting punishment for Evolved." she lifts her eyes to look at him, a porcelain expression upon her face. "I've actually made it one of my priorities on account of a few run-ins I have had with a certain group that takes their Evo hating to an extreme. H5N10 will not simply be just an Evo disease anymore. It should be equally feared among all. Lest Humanis First gets the bright idea to use it in warfare."

Loathe to take a seat on any of her fancy furniture just yet, Calvin tilts his head back to survey the ceiling and windows and finally the kitchen that she's moving towards. He follows at a polite distance, three-piece suit showing arsenic grey beneath the dramatic cut of his coat lapels to say, "No thank you," to her offer of refreshment while she does the hostess thing and he watches.

He's an odd addition to any setting, but seems particularly out of place in this kitchen one, orange mane bristled coarse over his shoulders at complimentary odds with the fine tailor of his clothing. Porcelin regard is met with equally inscrutable interest, chilly measure even as it is unblinking.

He's listening very closely.

Unfortunately, "Christ," is the first thing he can think to say after a beat, followed by an equally earnest and inspiring: "I'd like to fuck you."

But no! To business. He shakes it off with a clip of his teeth and a steep breath that's apparently meant to narrow his focus, gloved knuckles cracked one through five across his left hand. "There already are groups out there that have weaponized the 510, however primitively. I had hoped I might be able to accelerate your progress by providing you with any resources you're having trouble acquiring on the down low. Test subjects and the like."

A Yana without a tag-along Magnes would have responded to the outburst with a very shocked and indignant gasp and furious words. What Calvin just said is very very improper to utter to a woman such as her. However, she has learned to put up with quite a bit. Some of the things that fly out of Magnes' mouth make what Calvin just spoke become apart of normal etiquette. She can overlook it this time, and even put up on the shelf as a trophy with the label of flattery. On some small level that is. Anything that feeds her ego is gold(but strangely, only once.)

She doesn't even skip a beat in her preparation of her tea. The bag goes in the intricate China cup, the cup is placed on an equally impressive saucer, and she even has one of those things that flashfries water to make it hot. Simple design and matching the other things in her apartment with the dark, neutral colors. She presses the button and gets her 'fwish' of steaming water. Calvin is speaking her language.. or at least he has said the right thing. "Ah, you must have been guided here by fate. I have been pondering the problem of having suitable subjects for virus farming and testing. I am not all that public with my ability, as you know the government would certainly be tracking me down. So running tests on random individuals, starting a pandemic with uncontrolled parameters isn't something I can exactly do. I'm limited. But if you are able to provide resources, I can certainly provide results, doubling my efforts to produce the intended outcome." She actually twists one side of her mouth into an out of place smirk. It is very small, yet it holds so much insidiousness behind it.

"You should know that I have no qualms as to the demographics of my test subjects. I have no heart, and it is questionable as to if I possess a soul anymore. So you don't have to restrict yourself as to who you select. Men, women, children.. When it comes to scientific pursits, I can do what must be done."

"No offense," Calvin hedges in belatedly while she prepares her tea, back and forth between subjects while he paces a few idle steps deeper into the kitchen, "I just find organized megalomania attractive, is all."

Nearer he smells distinctly of coffee drifting warm over something harsher and more mechanical — an acrid lick of hot iron saturated deep into the matte black of his coat. It's nothing unusual, so far as he's concerned; beyond the coffee he had on the way over, he's made no real effort to mask his particular aroma and actually seems more intent on seeing what sort of fingerprints his latex gloves like to leave on her nice counter tops.

"I can provide you with papers, false identification and access to a closed prison population of individuals who no one will listen to about the sniffles until they start dying."

Megalomaniacs don't generally like to be called out for being exactly that. The term is quite correct, but to them it of course sounds like a derogatory term, as their view of the world and their place in it is twisted. But she can own up to it. Occasionally she can tolerate being called out for what she is.. rarely. Her head lightly dips to one side as the same shoulder rises a little to meet it. "Eh, it is like my late husband always used to say. The world would be a much better place if it just did what I wanted. But it's alright, I'll fix it." Granted, that never happened. People with that mentality rarely achieve their impossible goals, but that doesn't stop them from having them till the bitter end.

The black surface of her counter tops reflect Calvin's image back at him. The marble is kept immaculately clean, most likely done several times a day, thanks to her live in attendant who does a marvelous job at everything he is paid to do. The blemishes that his fingers leave don't seem to bother her as she sees them, so it is apparent she isn't the one to clean them. Christopher will get them later.

Adding her milk to her tea, followed by an almost robotic stirring, Yana lifts the cup to her lips, producing a cooling blow before taking a sip, "That is perfect. I can keep the casualties down to a minimum. I calculate there will be a few as a result of adjustment, until I get the factors right with the virus. Immune systems are about as unpredictable as the weather at times. I believe we are in business then, Mr. Rosen. You've saved me quite a bit of hassle."

Calvin's reflection looks like it could stand to be getting a few more hours sleep at night. Beyond that and whatever hedonistic touch of weight he'd gained lazing around in Institute employ since cleaved cleanly away from the haughty arc of his cheekbones, he's healthy and neatly shorn as he could hope to be under the circumstances.

The circumstances of homelessness, that is.

He looks at himself for longer than seems proper before he hooks his attention back around onto Yana and her tea stirring. Thoughts briefly elsewhere, for whatever reason — he has to do a bit of replay in the back of his mind to catch all the way back up again.

"Oh," he says. "Fantastic. It shouldn't take me more than a day or two to acquire the necessary materials. I'll have them overnighted here, if that's alright."

"More than adequate, actually. While I'm not in any major rush, I certainly do appreciate promptness in just about everything." Yana even stands like she owns all she surveys. Posture erect, shoulders back, confidence pouring from every fiber of her being, and a certain lazy eyed gaze that she gives, that gives that bored rich people have as they look at the world. Like watching a slide show in a conference.

Behind her dark eyes, Yana is taking notice to how.. odd the man actually is. Not just in appearance, but all out demeanor and what appears to be the way his mind works. The scientist that is the Dr. Blite part of her is dissecting and studying him already, while Yana is simply curious; contemplating the questions that Dr. Blite leave left for her to answer. If this is the best idea, how likely it is for him to succeed, for him to fail, should she really involve herself with someone that the Institute has marked for death.. things like that. Silently she works on these questions, while putting forth a proper face.

"I'll count you among the few people that I'll keep viral harm from coming to. If you ever catch something you can't get rid of, Ci— H5N10 or otherwise, don't hesitate to see me for purification." she mentions.

If arrogance recognizes arrogance, she'll see it in the casual way he wields himself in unfamiliar territory, shoulders and back held upright by the vest under his jacket with an unconscious, bred in kind of propriety. Hands free range to touch and pry, air ultimately at ease despite the overwhelming threat her mere presence in the room represents.

Granted, he's been careful to stay out of reach so far, a bit of china lifted, turned over, examined and replaced on his way across what remains of that distance for her. And her tea.

All the better to take up one of her hands with clear intent to kiss it once he's there, latex glove to a brush of his lips in as much time as it'd take him to pull the trigger of a gun at his temple. "By the same token," he says, "if you happen to come upon anyone you wish would disappear…"

If Yana were to be able to tolerate being around certain people on a regular basis more often, Calvin might just be one of those certain people. Not exactly like the term 'friend' but close enough. A step above associate perhaps. Though as it stands, Yana looks down upon most people, and to count them as people she actually hangs out with is unheard of. It is always a nice thought that she can meet people that she can consider for the role of casual company.. if she allowed herself to have that.

The fact that he is wearing latex gloves does not trigger her psychologically complex apprehensive response/issue to being touched, when he takes her hand, and she permits him to give what she consider the proper way to enter or depart a lady's company. "I might just have a person in mind." Yes, Yana holds a grudge, and she has the memory of an elephant. "I may be requiring that type of service once I gather a bit more information. I initially considered she might make a reasonable H5N10 factory, because she is evolved, but I can be satisfied with removal. I'll let you know." she smirks, "Thank you for stopping by. You've been a Godsent."

"You're more than welcome, m'dear doctor. You don't know what a relief it is for me that you're so ready and willing." Cuts down Calvin's work by at least half as he releases her hand with a lazy flourish and takes a lingering step backwards, as if at the start of an imminent exuent. "I'll be sending my contact information along with everything else. If you have any questions or come to a decision regarding the termination of any other persistent problems you're having, we can arrange another meeting then."

It is nice to have like minded people in your general circle of connections. Especially in a world such as this, where heroes run rampant and people are struggling for their freedom and human rights. Most would call people like Yana or Calvin insane or villainous, but those are just titles, and she doesn't see things as black and white as most people like to categorize them. It gives her hope, actually that her long term plans can actually succeed, and it makes her more productive in the long run. She'll likely have the alterations figured out in no time, with this little pep in her step.

"Excellent, I'll be sure to do that." she neatly sets her cup down in it's matching little saucer, and moves to show him out like a gracious hostess would. "Take caution out there. It would be most unfortunate if the Institute were to take out it's order. And terribly inconvenient." Which is the most important thing for her, really.

Isn't it, though? Nice, that is.

Calvin certainly seems to think so: he manages to show his teeth in a grin that has all the makings of genuine pleasure to have made her acquaintance as she moves to escort him out. He keeps slow pace at her side, in no more rush to be about his business than she is to show him the door.

"Self-preservation is close to the top of my list of priorities," he assures her as they go, "if only for the good of all mankind. Thank you for allowing me in."

She is quite eager to continue her work. It isn't something that she can or will express much, other than pushing for solitude. Much meditation needs to be done, and she will have to be calling Christopher to have him pick up something to help keep her awake to the wee hours. There may be time for her to get to know the odd mystery that is Calvin in the near future. She has a few social events coming up in which she has to make an appearance. Inviting him could certainly shake things up.

The devious little thought passes the front of her mind as she reaches and opens the door for him. "You're most welcome." A smile is given, which stems from her bred in training to be gracious and proper rather than her actual emotions. "Stay safe." And she does really mean that.

A tip of his gingery crest in acknowledgement and an up-and-down look that doesn't quite measure up on the propriety-meter later, Calvin slants half a smile after her and steps on out. Back to the wild with an easy, "You too," and a slow exhalation that may register as relief on his way down the naked hallway.

Satisfaction, at the very least.

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