Participants:
| Scene Title | How To Find An Invisible Man |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Short, sweet, lots of eye rolling. Hot soup too. |
| Date | January 17, 2009 |
Once upon a time, the New York Public Library was one of the most important libraries in America. The system, of which this branch was the center, was among the foremost lending libraries /and/ research libraries in the world.
The bomb changed that, as it changed so much else.
By virtue of distance, the library building was not demolished entirely, like so many others north of it; however, the walls on its northern side have been badly damaged, and their stability is suspect. The interior is a shambles, tattered books strewn about the chambers and halls, many shelves pulled over. Some have even been pulled apart; piles of char in some corners suggest some of their pieces, as well as some of the books, have been used to fuel fires for people who sought shelter here in the past.
In the two years since the bomb, the library — despite being one of the icons of New York City — has been left to decay. The wind whistles through shattered windows, broken by either the blast-front or subsequent vandals, carrying dust and debris in with it. Rats, cats, and stray dogs often seek shelter within its walls, especially on cold nights. Between the fear of radiation and the lack of funds, recovery of the library is on indefinite hiatus; this place, too, has been forgotten.
How do you find, an invisible man?
You don't. You just shuffle around, find a place to sit, and wait. Or alternatively, you can go up to the roof, shuffle around and wait. Her night spent at the church, with the healing akin to a 16 year old riding thier first standard car, stop, start, stop, start meant the woman wasn't going to try and make her way back to the Bronx. The Library was oddly silent, not used to the lack of sound that comes from within the bowels of the building, or the lack of passwords. A backpack at her side, filled with canned soup, crackers, things that would survive here in the library, Abigail rests her shoulder and head against a wall, legs dangling over the side of the roof, watching the wasteland that is the ruins while her breath curls in the cool air. Smears of brown on her jeans, a clean sweater, jacket and scarf around her.
Invisible men find you.
Claude prefers the lack of passwords and security. He may have been used to that once, but he's come to love his relatively carefree life, and that doesn't really combine so well with frisking anymore. His return to the roof of the library tonight is, for once, not at all inconspicuous. After all, wouldn't want to startle the pigeons around and in the new coop Helena & Co. built for him- so he flickers into visibility almost instantly after arriving. He doesn't even notice Abby at first, until he does a double take and stands still to stare at her. "Didn't you move along with the others?" Straight to the point. Greetings are for the weak.
"There you are" All southern twang and sweet. She looks over her shoulder to him and then to the cage. "I'm not Phoenix. So I wouldn't be moving with them. Rogue healer, that's all. Helena told me that you were staying behind, so I brought some things, since they won't be here to cook. Besides, I don't know where the new place is deliberately. So that people can't get the information from me" She flashes Claude a smile, swinging legs side to side over the edge. "These yours?" a gesture to the pigeons.
Abby's explanation gets a smirk from Claude, as he moves along the coop and peers in. Few of the spaces are filled, but to be fair, it hasn't been up long. "They just come here to eat and sleep. I only open and close the doors for 'em. No opposable thumbs." He adds the last bit as explanation, peering at a stray pigeon a little while away, which seems less than willing to join the others. Oh well, another time. He meanders over to Abby, and looks out over the ruins. No verbal gratitude for the food. "Rogue healer." He mutters, briefly glancing to Abby. "They'd do best to keep you close, strategically. Even if it means risking getting you in a pickle, might save some lives in the long run."
"ahh, thumbs. Tricky thumbs. The pigeon doorman. A noble job. I'm sure they appreciate it in thier own way. safe place to stay at night, protected from owls and any other things that go bump in the night and consume them" Abby swings her legs back over to the proper side, coming to her feet and squatting near the cage. She digs around in her bag for the crackers, breaking the package open and getting out a few. The food crumbles in her hand easily, tossing a few to the lone pigeon's way, to woo it closer to the others. "Rogue healer. Anyone and everyone, if they but ask. Helena and I spoke, we have ways. If someones injured, they're to get the person here, or if they can't, they'll send someone for me and blindfold me, to keep me from seeing where. One phon ecall and provided he isn't busy, I know a speedster who can get me from one end of the city to the other in under a few minutes. So long as it's not too icy" She smiles at that. "If you need clean clothes, I'll be dropping by once a week to look for messages. If you leave your dirty clothes in the kitchen, I can take them and wash them for you"
Claude can't help but chuckle, looking to Abby again, almost as though to size her up. "Do you know how long it's been since someone's offered me to wash my clothes?" He laughs, and shakes his head. "Spend your time taking care of yourself, pup. You look like you need it."
Tempt the bird, and toss some towards the the ones puttering around in their cage. "I guess a long time?" She cants her head to the side, looking up at him. "You said, i'm an odd one. It's just one more load, tacked onto what I already do. And I will, I promise. Fresh clothes, a real bed to sleep in instead of a cot. I'm sure Al will be kicking my butt the moment I'm through the door at the apartment" Abby stays kneeled, tossing a few more crumbs to the shy pigeon, making little cooing noises to it that likely won't work. "Pup. Why pup?"
Claude glances to the stray pigeon, watching its movements as it scurries to peck up some crumbs. It may be a while yet before it's comfortable enough to be picked up and lifted into a coop-square of its own, but Claude he has the time. He hopes. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Claude's answer is curt, without hesitation. "Prancing after anyone who tugs your leash hard enough, fetching slippers and staying put when people tell you to stay." He rubs his shoulder in idle thought. "Don't flatter yourself, though. It's a common enough nickname in my book."
"I have. I'm not the prettiest looking thing right now. I'm pretty sure I have some of Teo's blood in my hair, and there's circles under my eyes" A few more crackers tossed into a little pile before she backs off the pigeon. It's not like Pila, she doesn't quite know how to treat it. "It's the nicest one that anyone's called me though. Some day, i'll be a big yappy Pomeranian, nipping at ankles and making an annoyance of myself more than I already am." Seems the blonde isn't taking offense to being called a pup, or his tone. Just rolling up the end of the crackers to shove back in the bag. "Though… some people would tell you that I don't stay put when told to. Pup" She rolls it on her tongue a few moments. "Got any hurts that need tending to? Before I go down and make some soup. DOnt' knwo when this thing is happening, and i'm trying to keep everyone in proper health so that we're all ready"
Claude quirks a brow at Abby, then huffs and shakes his head. "No." A lie, but he moves quickly on. "I've had the luck of not running into anyone wanting to bash my head in for a while, for once." Though there was the one who wanted to drag him back to the Company, but let's forget about that for the moment. "Go make your soup. Fetch those slippers."
"Arf Arf" and for a moment, she lets her tongue loll out of her mouth on purpose before she fetches the bag to haul over her shoulder and amble towards the door. "Fifteen minutes. Come have lunch. Bring your dirty clothes. Or we'll see how bad I can nip ankles. Admit it. You'll enjoy clean clothes. Everyone enjoys clean clothes"
Claude laughs, moving to give the coop's occupants for one more careful look-over. "Nice try, but I have better things to do tonight. Eating will come later. Leave some behind for me." Besides, joining Abby for lunch would mean more socializing. Ick.
"Fifteen minutes, Come have lunch. I'm heating it up for you then heading out. Got stuff to do before work and sleep some more. I mean it. Leave your dity clothes, I'll stop by on the way to work" With that though, the blonde ducks out, disappearing through the door, but lingering in the air and echoing are random yips and barks that are human made with a howl before Claude's left with just the cooing of his rooftop friends.
The barks and howls get a roll of the eyes from Claude, who after one failed attempt to coax the stray pigeon into being picked up finally heads down. He'll accept the soup, but Abby's laundry run will likely be without any of his possessions. Pigheaded he is, and pigheaded he'll stay.
 January 17th: Waitin' For The Bus |
 January 17th: Met A Girl |