I'd Hate To Impose


abby_icon.gif amato_icon.gif caliban_icon.gif raith_icon.gif

Scene Title I'd Hate To Impoase
Synopsis A picnic date is overrun by familiar faces who disperse soon enough.
Date July 17, 2010

Central Park

Central Park has been, and remains, a key attraction in New York City, both for tourists and local residents. Though slightly smaller, approximately 100 acres at its southern end scarred by and still recovering from the explosion, the vast northern regions of the park remain intact.

An array of paths and tracks wind their way through stands of trees and swathes of grass, frequented by joggers, bikers, dog-walkers, and horsemen alike. Flowerbeds, tended gardens, and sheltered conservatories provide a wide array of colorful plants; the sheer size of the park, along with a designated wildlife sanctuary add a wide variety of fauna to the park's visitor list. Several ponds and lakes, as well as the massive Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, break up the expanses of green and growing things. There are roads, for those who prefer to drive through; numerous playgrounds for children dot the landscape.

Many are the people who come to the Park - painters, birdwatchers, musicians, and rock climbers. Others come for the shows; the New York Shakespeare Festival at the Delacorte Theater, the annual outdoor concert of the New York Philharmonic on the Great Lawn, the summer performances of the Metropolitan Opera, and many other smaller performing groups besides. They come to ice-skate on the rink, to ride on the Central Park Carousel, to view the many, many statues scattered about the park.

Some of the southern end of the park remains buried beneath rubble. Some of it still looks worn and torn, struggling to come back from the edge of destruction despite everything the crews of landscapers can do. The Wollman Rink has not been rebuilt; the Central Park Wildlife Center remains very much a work in progress, but is not wholly a loss. Someday, this portion of Central Park just might be restored fully to its prior state.

Just like an amnesiac
Trying to get my senses back
(Oh, where did they go?)

Laughing with a mouth of blood
From a little spill I took
(Oh, what are you laughing at?)

And all of my old haunts are now all haunting me…

A gentle breeze blows low through Central Park in the early evening, reminding the day just how hot it was. Rather than just cut through through the tops the trees, the wind deigns to lower itself to the ground, cooling the park's waning population.

Sitting beneath a tree, a lankly man with just a bit of muscle sits with a book propped against one bent knee and a pencil poised above the page. The sleeves of his white dress shirt, which has clearly seen better days, are rolled up to his elbows, and the first few buttons are undone. The wind whips through his somewhat shaggy blond hair, but the man doesn't seem to take notice beyond a nonchalant glance up into his leafy canopy.

Coming along the path, near Amato's resting spot of choice, is one person at least familiar to the man if only through his ability and one fateful crazy dinner party before the world was going to end. her hands curl around the handle of the stroller, a canopy of pink with geometric grey shapes shade the infant that's inside from the sun as she kicks her legs, enjoying the change of scenery. Not the ideal picnic date with Caliban, long since worried about whether he can take being around a baby given his past and loss. But there's food packed into the carrying basket of the stroller and messenger bag, knee length skirt and layered tank tops that do nothing to hide the tattoo's wings and cross on her back, nor the black strap that holds something close to her beneath the shirt. Flip flops, floppy sun hat, she looks like she could pass for the mother of the infant.

"-on't know when they'll be back at the Lighthouse. I don't really want to leave her in Gun Hill. But they'll need to get her.. paperwork and such, I'm sure there will be an attempt to find her mother, which will likely only result in a Jane Doe in a morgue somewhere" Abigail converse with Robert. "But… but okay, enough of that. I got the bar! Closed it the other day. Now I just have to start finding someone to help figure out the inside, what will need to change, and then renovate. Hope that it's up before the fall"

Just a normal day in the park.

"Have you given any consideration to the difficulties of starting a new business while continuing to pursue your career as a paramedic?" the man walking alongside Abigail wonders aloud. In spite of the warm weather, Robert Caliban's dress retains shades of formality, including a suit jacket, matching slacks and a pair of Italian shoes that alone are probably more expensive than his companion's entire ensemble.

The man beneath the tree receives a glance, but that is all. It's not long before his gaze is moving past Amato and up the path to the distant shape of Belvedere Castle and Midtown's jagged skyline beyond it.

In the modern era, there is no such thing as a normal day in Central Park. A man and a woman on a picnic is, perhaps, normal. A man and the daughter of the sun itself, and two ex-terrorists? That is not normal. Or, for Jensen Raith, maybe it is.

Early evening is perhaps a bit too earlier for him to be on the mainland, but he has the benefit of not so many people trying to find him anymore, and in any case, Central Park isn't exactly a haven for criminals. Not really, at least. Where he's coming from and where he's going are mysteries to anybody but him, and that's the way he likes it. That couple in the distance doesn't know, and that's how he likes i- is that Beauchamp? Oh, and who's that having a sit-down underneath the tree there. Even with the high temperature, Raith is still wearing a long coat (although a much lighter one than he's worn in the past), and quickly, he brings out a copy of that day's news and opens it, pretending to read while he obscures his face as he strolls onward. Abigail, he's got no reason to fear, but the drink of water under the tree might be a different story altogether. Raith can only hope that the teachings of his mentor, Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau, work and cause those around him to write him off as a harmless eccentric.

There are some voices that become so ingrained with memory that they never really leave you. So when one is apart from these voices for an extended period and then hears them again, suspicion rides in their wake.

Such is the voice of Abigail Beauchamp.

He can't see the contents of the pram, but he can certainly speculate. His ice-blue eyes snap to Abby as her voice travels down the path ahead of her. He watches for a beat - two beats - then blinks and looks to the man beside her. At that age, he could be her father.

Amato takes his time in standing, but he doesn't move from beneath his tree. Instead, he leans against the trunk and folds his arms across his chest. "I never thought I'd see the day, Miz Beauchamp," he says by way of greeting. He doesn't shout, but rather the words are projected across the small distance between the manicured lawn and the bricked-in path. The chuckle in his voice - his own, unmasked voice - is as obvious as the twinge of a smile on his face. His own failings as a student of Monsieur Clouseau are equally prominent.

Just call her Tans Gemini and turn her skin purple Raith, that's all. "I can't justify taking the insurance money and running Robert. It's because of me, that they're out of a job. Because of my choices, they were out of employment and had to look elsewhere. I don't want to leave them high and dry. I mean they all found jobs and I just… I can't do it. I have Brenda, and worst comes to worst, I can push back going back to school. It's not like I have to go back now. I'll have to cut back my hours at work, so. Extra days and hours will just be put into getting it up and running."

She smiles over at him even as the third in their party starts to lick and shove her own fist into her mouth and explore the wonderful world of what hands taste like. "You're worried is what you are. I won't have Kasha, hopefully within a week or so, I would think the Light house will be back and as much as I enjoy her and know that this is likely the closest that I will ever be to being a momma, she's not mi-"

Amato's salutations cut through their quite conversation and draw the blonde beneath her straw hat to a stop. "Amato Salucci, while I live and breath…" Not one she's so scared of. especially when she's got Robert and an ability. She looks down to the hand that was her very last act of healing. "Myself either. May I introduce you? Robert, this is Amato, Amato, this is Robert." Baby isn't introduced, not out of rudeness but because she spots Raith.

Presumably, any friend of Abigail's is a friend of Caliban's — or at the very least someone he's willing to consider more than a passing acquaintance. The distance remaining between them, however, prevents him from offering the other man his hand without appearing foolish, and so he places it at the small of her back instead. "A pleasure," he says, and any argument he might have offered in response to Abigail's proposed methods of time management is mentally swept aside to make room for other assessments.

Raith happily allows the conversation to unfold as he passes. He would have happily passed and paid none of the trio any mind, too. Unfortunately, when he's barely five paces beyond Abby and Caliban, it registers in his mind- illustrated by the sudden jerking of the paper away from his face- that the trio is, in fact, a quartet, and the ex-spy promptly turns around and stalks back to immediately investigate the stroller. An investigation that concludes almost immediately with him shifting his gaze just slightly upward, peering at Ms. Beauchamp just over the rims of his sun glasses. "Seriously?" he asks, "Delilah and I weren't enough?"

Abruptly, Raith pauses and looks over to Amato with a, "Hey," before turning right back to Abigail. "You had to get one too?"



"Who is Delilah?"

Yes, there's something odder than Raith randomly appearing. In fact, Amato can't help but feel a bit disappointed at the end of each month when Raith fails to appear in an effort to get him to join some harebrained scheme to right the wrongs they've committed. But there are more important things to digest at the moment.

Visible force goes into Amato's stowing of his pencil and book, which turns out to be a rather thin, leather bound volume, in the back pocket of his khakis that are two steps away from Dockers and closer to something one wouldn't mind wearing while slinging hay. Glancing from Raith back to Abby and… Robert, Amato makes his way across that small distance, getting close enough to peer into the stroller before eyeing Abby's escort. "Robert," he repeats aloud. "Forgive me not shaking your hand. It's probably best that way." Amato arches an eyebrow and peers at Abby.

"For all of us."

Amato's got… a touch ability? Well, that's news to Abigail. A hand comes out, swatting at Raith when he gets too close, though the little human in the stroller is more than happy to chew on her foot and peer over her toes at the two men. "Not mine." She can't emphasize that enough, despite that the kid is pale skinned and blonde haired, tack on blue eye's and that the same coloring is in the man beside her.

"I'm just babysitting, that's all. Robert can vouch for that. I'm not a momma so it out of your heads, the both of you. We're just taking a stroll and gonna have a spot of lunch and then.. carry on with our day. Shouldn't you be out blowing things up and taking care of Eileen?" A pointed question to Raith. The hand on her back is a touch that she has long since become accustomed too. "Amato, where on earth have you been hiding?"

While Amato might not be someone that Caliban recognizes, Raith's reputation speaks for itself. The hand at Abigail's back moves to protectively encircle her waist with his arm. It's just as well that Amato would rather not shake hands — his aren't gloved in leather today.

"Hey, I'm not working today, and Eileen's doing just fine. I left Teo with her." Raith pauses, just for a beat. "Although I do see cause for concern with that. No matter, they'll be fine, Ms. Babysitter however!" A jolt of his hand to point a finger at Caliban. "This guy. He looks kind of familiar. Can't think of why, though." And then, to Amato. "This guy. I haven't seen for a while. He's kind of a ninja that way, like Hattori Hanzo. Or Santa Claus."

Raith, gainfully employed? Eileen with Teo? Abby with a baby and…this guy? Amato shakes his head, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Santa Claus is a travesty." He clears his throat, then takes a deep breath, putting on his best 'polite face' in order to address Abby. "I have not been hiding, my dear. Simply…preoccupied." Wait, no. "Employed, upstate. One of the monks needed to come into the city, and I was the only one available to drive." And rather than wait around the medical center all day, the park seemed a more idyllic place to do some thinking.

Amato nods again to Robert, glancing momentarily to Raith and taking note of the animosity. "Would it be possible to apologize for this…gentleman's behavior? I for one am quite confident in Miss Beauchamp's ability to judge character." Even if that character has rough edges. "It is good to see her in capable hands."

Clearly, Caliban is getting possessive, as the arm around the waist is a smidge outside of the usual scheme of things. She'll inquire later why. Doe she know about the hit put out on Abby that the dark haired Remnant took up? "You're living near a monastery?" Were there such things still alive this day in age? Clearly. Or Amato is lying to cover his ass and he's hiding out in some cave somehwere.

"This man is my boyfriend. Well.. significant other or whatever you want to actually call it. We're together and just trying to enjoy an afternoon and steal some time together" A squeal erupts from the stroller, Abigail craning enough in Caliban's embrace to make sure there's not some bug or something on Huruma's foundling. "We have enough food in the basket" Any disagreement from Caliban will be remedied later at some point, if he knows what's coming with those words. "And Amato seems to have sequestered a nice spot to picnic…"

When Caliban decided he and Abigail were going to take advantage of the weather and spread out a blanket somewhere in Central Park, he didn't envision sharing their lunch with a pair of terrorists, but he's nothing if not adaptable. "No apology necessary," he assures Amato, giving Abigail's side a firm squeeze before his arm drops away and he moves around the front of the stroller to retrieve the food from the basket and the blanket folded beneath it.

If this is where Abigail wants to eat, and who she chooses to eat with, so be it.

"Much as I appreciate the offer," Raith begins, "I was actually on my way somewhere. Figured I'd try and patch things up with my brother-in-law after… we're not talking right now." Somewhere along the way, Jensen Raith seems to have acquired a family. Or at least, finally decided it was worthwhile or at least safe to mention his to certain people. "What's a good 'I'm sorry' Scotch? Any suggestions?"

Schoowsh. Amato reaches out and clamps a hand around Raith's arm to keep him from wandering off too quickly, since, you know, Raith has a bit of a tendency to do just that. "Not Scotch," he says with a shake of his head. "Wine. I'll help you find some, presuming that a certain wine bar is still in business." In turning to look at Abby and Robert again, Amato sees the baby once again. It does bear a striking resemblance, but… Abby wouldn't lie. Not to him, even after all this time.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I'd hate to impose on such an intimate gathering. Do enjoy yourselves."

Caliban might know the answer, Abigail knows what she would buy. It frankly would depend upon the budget in truth. Raith apologies though that are made for his being unable to stay will not be contested.

Frankly, Abigail isn't going cry over Raith choosing to go. She would find it hard to sit across a blanket from him after what she found out. How exactly do you break bread with a guy who took money to kill you. Say what you will about dating the guy who almost succeeded in doing so.Maybe not even bawl over Amato. He reminds her of something she lost and a conviction at one point that she had done what god had wanted her to do and took eveything away from her

She kneel's down, going to work at getting the baby out of the stroller, careful to support her neck and coo quietly to the little girl till she's laying across her shoulder and chest. Little finger tucked into a ball, tongue exploring this way and that, leaving gleaming trails of saliva in it's wake. If someone's safe for Amato to touch, it's surely the infant. Her only sin is being born.

"You're welcome, both of you. Maybe another day" She'll see Raith around and in the end, she does have things to talk to Caliban about. ID's for certain germans, balancing things in life, other stuff that they talk about when alone."Lord watch over you Amato. Hopefully we'll run into one another again some day. Give my regards to Eileen Jensen, let her know I need to talk to her again, real soon"

Whether or not Raith and Amato choose to join them, the shade of the tree is as good a place to put down the blanket as any, which is exactly what Caliban moves to do as Abigail is saying her farewells. If he has an opinion about scotch, he doesn't offer it, and instead focuses on smoothing the wrinkles from the spread.

There's a moment where the first few bars of his ring tone come out muffled from the interior pocket of his jacket, but he's quick to extract the phone and glance at the screen before pointedly switching it off and tucking it away again.

"Oh, well, thanks." Raith even affords Amato a smile. Looks like they get to be buddies for a short while, at the very least. "I'll be sure to tell her, Abigail," the ex-spy adds before heading off down the path, "Hope it's good news. She'd love to be given some of that, rest assured. Tah." And then, Raith is off with Amato in tow, whether or not he's released his arm. If he hasn't, then just maybe this little outing will go somewhere more interesting than initially expected.

Amato offers a brief nod to both Abby and Robert before he leaves with Raith. Said arm is only released once the two are down the path and away from the others, but even then, Amato seems determined to keep pace. Losing Raith is far too easy.

Phone. His phone is always going off. Abigail stands sentinel, gently bouncing the baby in her arms so she can watch the two men walk off arm in arm - Certain to gain some looks from others in the park who might wonder if they're together. When they're sufficiently gone, away from here, flip flopped feet carry Abigail to the blanket where she can put the baby down on her stomach, enforce tummy time.

"If you need to take it Robert, take it. I won't get upset. It's not like you work at a grocery store or are a lawyer. You work for him and he needs you" She understands completely, the turn of the minute emergencies that might crop up. "You don't like Raith either, do you?"

"It's not important," says Caliban, which really means that it's not as important. As Abigail. And, by extension, Kasha. "They can wait. Not everything with Mr. Linderman is a matter of life and death."

The same cannot be said of Jensen Raith, and he gives a faint shrug at the accusation, polite though it is. "I don't dislike him," he says, truthfully enough, "but I have other people I'd place my trust in before mercenaries."

Abigail glances over her shoulder towards the departing men, disappearing out of sight. "I don't much care for him either Robert. On principle, you shouldn't like a man who accepts a price on your head" And quite possibly, likely, was the one who killed her bartender. Abigail can hold a grudge. Kasha's not going to be moving anywhere, not old enough to even think of crawling away, and there's food to get out, only so much time to be had between the both of them before work and work respectively calls. "Would you like for me to hold off renovating the bar for a few months? I can afford to wait Robert. If it would make you feel better about things. You do have an opinion in the matter, being as you are with me and this isn't some summer fling"

Abigail's revelation about the nature of her relationship with Raith has Caliban narrowing his eyes, but it's not a subject he apparently chooses to press. Instead, he zeroes in on a topic that doesn't make him want to crush things between his fingers. "What I would like has absolutely no bearing on your decision, Abigail," he reminds her gently. "It isn't my business, and Brenda isn't my employee, but speaking as someone who's made a career out of managing other people's lives for them, I think that you're eventually going to find yourself in a situation where you have to choose between the bar and your calling."

"Then… I make Brenda the manager and I just remain the owner" Abigail eases down to sit cross legged, plucking out a tupperware filled with sandwiches piled high with meat. "It's one thing to work as a paramedic, and in the bar. I know, that if whatever happens in the Ferry happens and I get that council seat that others want me to take, that it's going to be more time sucked up in there." Down it goes into the center of the blanket, lid off with a soft woosh and put to the side.

"I can own it and not run it Robert. Brenda can run it, take care of it. She's been running it with Izzy and when I inherited it. I don't have to spend the hours that I did in there before it burned. I liked to do it, because I didn't like pulling in a salary just for owning it and not feeling like I earned it" Things do not come for free, and if they do, something's wrong and you need to find the string, or the big as anvil heading straight for your skull.

"You have permission to kick me right in the arse if you do catch me working there, when I should be studying, or sleeping or practicing or something."

Caliban looks dubious. He does, however, look dubious about a lot of things these days. "If you end up in over your head," he says, "don't be afraid to come to me. I know a few things about managing money, too, and you'll need to pay taxes on your investments." Taking a seat on the blanket, he folds his long legs, picks a solitary piece of grass of his suit and flicks it away before reaching into the container and selecting something that looks like it might contain ham and swiss.

"I'm concerned, also, about Mr. Fulk. We're doing what we can to keep protective services from looking too closely at the Lighthouse, but I don't think that Gun Hill will work much longer as a solution. They need to be moved back into the orphanage, and soon."

Taxes. That produces a laugh.

"I never have to pay taxes the rest of my life Robert, and neither will the bar so long as it's in my name. The upside to getting kidnapped by Russians and Ethan beating me so bad. A thank you for the government and a letter to be photocopied and handed to my accountant to fill out the paperwork"

"But at some point, the Linderman Groups influence will wane with respect to the light house and they have to go back. I know. I don't really know why they left in the first place Robert, Gillian got taken nowhere near the lighthouse. Brian can produce enough of him to protect the place. Do you want me to let them know? Maybe Brian needs to come in and discuss new security measures."

"I think it would be in the children's best interest to at least approach the subject with your people," Caliban suggests, "and if they decide that they need to stay at Gun Hill until this mess with Gillian is sorted, then mine will continue doing everything in their power to buy you more time. Just know that it isn't indefinite."

"Give me a hard date Robert. There's some other stuff going on in the Ferry. Lord, I might not even be welcome in the Ferry in a few weeks, if some things end up going belly up" She's going for a sandwich too, on hand grabbing something while the other fishes out a soother to tease it into the infants mouth to give her something to suck on.

"I do better with a specific date, instead of something abstract. I can go and talk with Doyle, I have to go speak with him about Kasha, make sure there's even room for her. If there's not, then I might just have to convince Huruma to take her to social services and turn her over" Not that social services wouldn't be involved in the first place if she's dropped with the Lighthouse.

"I have someone who needs ID" Now it's her turn to inquire, ask for help. Something she's been doing a lot more of lately. "Ferry will turn him down to help, so I want to try and avoid him getting their help until he finds his Dah and his sister. Where can I send him, to get ID that will pass muster for getting around the country? I figured you might know. Money isn't an issue with them"

Caliban presses a sigh past his lips and tears off a bite of sandwich in his teeth, using the mouthful as a method of stalling while he mulls over the information that Abigail has just presented him with. When he swallows, he uses the tips of his fingers to wipe at the corner of his mouth, then says, "I'll go out on a limb and guess that this is the sort of thing where the less I know, the better off we'll all be.

"I can get your friend the paperwork he needs. I'll pull it from the missing persons database so it's all legitimate, but if he's smart he won't use it unless he absolutely has to. There's always a chance he'll get flagged, and if the authorities look too closely into the background, a keen eye is going to pick up on the discrepancies."

"Probably best that you know so little. Even I don't know too much, but that sounds goods. I'll direct Richard towards you, it's someone he's dealing with. I told them to save the Ferry and help from that corner, for when he actually finds his father and they needs to smuggle out or hide" There's one thing to tick off her to do list. He hasn't answered her first question though, but she can leap onto that easily enough with Doyle and Brian.

"I have something happening Tuesday. I think I'm going out of town on a run too. Could you stop by, if I leave a message, to make sure the animals are taken care of. You can send someone to do it, you don't have to do it yourself. A neighbour's kid is gonna walk Rhett couple times a day"

"Of course," Caliban says, to both meeting with Cardinal and looking after Abigail's animals. "If you'd prefer, I can keep Rhett at my apartment in the spare room. There's not much he can chew, but I'm in and out over the course of the day and can make sure he gets some human interaction while you're away. I'm not much for walking, but I've neighbors as well."

"Robert Caliban, walking a dog!" An exaggerated gasp replete with her palm coming up to cover her mouth with just her fingertips. "Next thing you know, he'll be bent over the hood of my car, changing the transmission, or worse…" Abigail leans in a fraction. "Seen in forty dollar running shoes and worn jeans, digging a hole in the woods so that we have a hole to do our business in when we go camping with nothing but a tent, pots and pans and shotguns!"

She teasing, trying to get a gauge of whether he likes to actually camp. One should never mix camping for hunting and that one begets the other. "You do like to do things that don't cost a bucket of money yes? Like buying ten burrito's at Taco bell and a coke and just getting in a pick up and just driving somewhere. Or hunkering down for hours on end just to shoot the perfect buck. It's not all just.. foreign films and caviar and the like. Not that it's not an adventure in of itself and I'm forced to dress pretty and fancy and Lord you make me feel like some southern barbie when I do. But.. I mean.. "

Caliban arches a thin blond brow at Abigail. Very likely, there aren't as many opportunities to go camping in England as there are here in the United States, but hunting is something that he's familiar enough with. "If you can find the time, I'll take you up to the Adirondacks," he says. "My employer has a company cabin that we can borrow for the weekend." And while he's not sure this is going to inspire the same feelings in Abigail as burrowing into a sleeping bag beneath the roof of a flimsy tent with rain glancing off the waterproofed fabric, he feels compelled to add, "You can bring the little one and the dog, too."

"Oh. A cabin." Each syllable drawn out not as to mock him but to show that even camping with him is not the same level as her. "In a building, with a flushing toilet and heat, and be still my beating heart. you know what my Dah would call that Robert?"

The fruit is pulled from the bag, popping off that lid as well and offering a slice of apple to him, waggling it back and forth for him to snap away with his teeth.

"He would call that a hotel, not camping. Not seeing the stars that god put in the sky while holding a hot water bottle to keep you warm through the night" She picks out a slice for herself, checking on Kasha. "I think… I think I could stomach a cabin Robert. Kasha will likely be gone by then though" A bit of sadness in her voice at the thought. "End of august Robert. Long weekend" Signed, stamped, dated. "Deer will be out by then. I miss a good veal roast. I bet I bag one before you do" Out comes the tongue, wrinkling her nose as she sticks it out in a dare towards him. "Six pointer even!"

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