Participants:
| Scene Title | I Doubt You'll Like It |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The phrase 'we need to talk' is used. |
| Date | May 02, 2011 |
A Motel Room
It had been a rather close run in, almost too close. It in a way confirmed for Ryans that they were possibly watching for him and maybe aware of who he is that close to the evolved projects of Eltingville Blocks. Very aware of who Delia was.
"I had to know," he explains to Lynette as they close in on the door that leads to her motel room. The world outside is fading into twilight. Curfew upon them soon. Or at least this version of her. Ryans looks exceedingly unhappy… or as close as anyone can tell. "At least we know I won't be able to do much good sneaking around government interests without an illusionist… those men suspected something. At least we got who the harbor master is and at least some idea what they are doing down there."
Not that it means he's happy about how it all went down. "Here we are." His blue eyes fall on the door as they reach it and he seems to be pondering something. "It's been a rather long day," he starts finally, "I think I'll bid you good night and head back to Grand Central." Which isn't probably the norm for him when he's in the city.
IN the back of his mind a voice accuses, Coward.
"Luckily, we do have an illusionist. It isn't totally impossible, even now. I agree, thought, that they were a little too interested." Lynette digs her keycard out of a pocket, still a little shaky, but hiding it much better at this distance from the danger. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I'm cut out for it, myself."
Too much fear of going back to a cell. Not that she explains that.
She's just turning to unlock the door when he surprises her with that one. It wasn't too long ago when neither of them stayed over anywhere, but now that it's gotten fairly common, the step back makes her blink a little. But as much as he accuses himself, when she turns back to him, there isn't anything like it in her gaze. "I suppose it has been something of a long day for all of us." There's a bit of hesitation there, though, like she's thinking about saying more. Or rather, thinking about not saying more. But there is this curiosity in that tone of hers.
He takes a step back, putting a bit of distance between them, before he starts to pivot away. That whisper becoming something like a banshee's scream. With his back to her, he stops. He stands there and then softly sighs. There is a brief hesitation, before he turns his head, brows furrowed into a deep frown. Lips part as if he's going to say something, but again something stops him. He turns, twists his body a bit so that he can look to her.
"Actually," Ben starts softly, looking somewhat resigned to this. "We need to talk…" He studies her face a long moment and adds, "About the dreams." He's dreaded discussing it, but he can't keep running from it.
When he turns back, Lynette gets an odd little smile on her face, like she's not exactly sure what to expect out of this. "You didn't have one of me murdering your dog or something, did you?" His dread feeds her a little, those already shaky nerves getting a little worse. But she turns to open the door, to usher him in.
"Let's not have a serious talk out in the hall, if that's alright? We could hit a coffee shop or the roof or something, if it'd make you more comfortable." She is being very careful about not caging him at this point, since he seems on the verge of running as it is.
He gives her an odd look for a moment, the joke not registering right away. But then suddenly there is a touch of a smile. Forced and nervous, but a smile. "No. Nothing like that… exactly." He doesn't joke back, it seems rather a serious subject. "But I doubt you'll like it." When Benjamin decides to do something he doesn't seem to beat around the bush.
"And your right the hallway isn't the best place for this conversation." He inclines his head towards the door and says, "Room will do." Ryans would rather not be out in public at the moment, especially with that run in with the government.
"You sure know how to reassure a girl," Lynette states wryly. But she follows him into the room all the same. There no such luxury as a mini fridge in this room, but she's gotten an ice chest to keep provisions in.
And by provisions… I mean alcohol. It is Lynette we're talking about.
So she grabs out a bottle of vodka, to pour a bit for herself the way most people would Scotch and the like, but she also sets a beer out for him. She doesn't say it's for him, but it's there. "So, how about you start from the top? And we'll see what I like or don't."
He doesn't sit once he's in the room, since Ryans is too tense to relax. He does pick up the beer, twisting off the cap with a loud hiss. "The top." His tone is bland as if uncertain where the top could be. "These dreams." A swing of beer or two later… "I don't know how much you've been hearing, but there is more to these dreams then first thought."
He swallows looking down at the bottle in his hand, "There are children that have come back from this future we've been dreaming. Fourteen of them, in fact." Blue eyes shift up to look at her, uncertain if she's heard the news. "Two of them are my grandsons. Benji is one. Delia's boy." He invokes a name he knows she'll know.
Whatever Lynette knew, she seems to take this news in stride, giving him a nod. "Alright. Future kids, grandkids. We're not strangers to time travel." She does pause a moment to ponder that note about Benji's lineage, though. But she seems to decide she can accept that, too. Delia has more children than the one that she saw dying in the next couple of years. That could be good for her.
"Maybe." Ryans says softly, after another long pull of the beer willing it to steel his nerves. He can face so many things, but when it comes to his private life… the man can be a bundle of nerves.
"A bit ago… there was a woman visiting Grand Central." Fingers slowly twist the neck of the bottle between them, gaze following the movement, other hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans. "She had had one of these dreams. Nightmare would be a better word for some of them." Ryans is avoiding looking at the woman that occupies the room with him. "It was a dream about the death of her husband. About her getting the news, with her daughter there."
He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts the bottle, but doesn't drink yet. Not until he says, "His name was Ben." Once the drink is taken and the bottle lowered he adds, "That daughter… my future daughter… is one of the travelers." He lets the silence fall between them then, like a heavy curtain.
There's a long silence from Lynette. She doesn't even drink for those few moments, taking all that in. Husband, kid, wife, dying… the kid being here and now. She really doesn't look happy about it, no, but at the same time… she doesn't seem unhappy about it, either. Just sort of… adrift, maybe.
"Another child, Ben? Goodness gracious," she says, her lips curving into a crooked smile. He knows her well enough to know when it's being a bit forced, though, which is just cheating at this moment really.
She turns a bit there, to set down her glass. Still untouched. She takes a moment, turned away slightly, gathering herself some before she turns back to look at him again. "Don't worry. I'm not upset. I mean, unless this is a… goodbye discussion."
There's a pause there, her brow furrows for just a moment before that expression smooths out again and her chin lifts a little. "Not that I'm saying I'm going to be totally crushed if it is." A little defense building, perhaps, just in case.
"Goodbye?" He finally forces himself to look at her, noting the little things he's learned about her all these months. Ryans is half tempted to say 'No,' but he doesn't think that's the total truth. It isn't a 'yes' either. "I — I don't know." Which more then likely not the answer she wanted to hear, but it's the honest truth.
For a brief moment, his mouth falls into a line. "I can't predict what is going to happen and it's not fair to you. Not with living proof walking around changing the future… Everything is uncertain at this point." Which bothers him a little. Who knows when they were suppose to fall apart or even the cause.
It is a disappointing answer, and Lynette sighs a bit. But she's not yelling, not just yet anyway. He is being honest, after all. But she is upset, that much is obvious with how her hand goes to her hip and she regards him flatly. "This is why I dislike seeing the future. We were any more certain before this? It was always supposed to be us… seeing how it goes. Getting to know one another. I can't say I understand how seeing something that might happen changes that at all.
"I know I never asked for monogamy, and I'm certainly not looking for a husband," those words, they sting with a bit more hurt than just this conversation, something deeper, obviously, "So there's nothing even saying you can't… see how things go with others as well. I'm not here to tie anyone down." Lynette turns back to her drink at that point, looking down at it as her hands alight on the table on either side of it.
"This is… new territory." Benjamin admits a touch reluctantly. "I am an old man, Lynette, and there is no denying that." His voice hold steady, emotionless. "I was raised…" different doesn't want to pass is lips. "I've lived a monogamous life. Married to the same woman for twenty plus years. Engaged to a woman I knew for many many years before." In other words, he isn't sure if he knows how to be anything but.
She can hear the sound of cloth shifting and the weight of his foot on the floor, before there is a touch on her shoulder, a gentle brush of fingers. "I'm not saying goodbye yet… I don't know if I will say goodbye at all." Ryans' hand settles there gently on her shoulder. "I. Don't. Know." Which is really his point.
The back of his knuckles, move to brush against her cheek gently. "I respect you enough to know you deserved to know the truth. To know what was going to be on the horizon. And I agree… this is why I don't like knowing the future." He had complained to Megan about that as well. "It screws up the balance of everything."
"I know," Lynette says, the wind going out of her proverbial sails. "Your old fashioned ways are part of your charm, after all. And monogamy works for some people. And I'm not saying it doesn't work for me, but if you're looking for a wife," she looks away there, her head shaking for a moment before she looks up at him again, a smirk coming to her lips. "I do better as a mistress, really."
She doesn't brush him away when he touches her shoulder or brushes her cheek. She doesn't smile at the touch this time, but there is still a lean into his fingers. "I appreciate you keeping me informed. I really do. I just… Being dumped over some dream, that would be unfair to me. If you find someone else, or aren't happy, that kind of stuff— I want you to be happy, Ben. If this doesn't work out, then that's how it goes, but I don't want it to be because I wasn't the one who was your wife in these dreams. You see what I'm saying?"
Which is to say, she's somewhat attached by now.
There is a slow nod of Ryans head, he does understand. "I can honestly say… I haven't been looking for a wife." It's true. He hasn't been. It seems impossible to thinks that anyone could replace his Mary. Not that he's going to say that outloud. Instead he takes a more political route, "Hadn't even thought about it." He's still feeling a bit disbelieving about it as it is.
"Still. It's out there. Ingrid, this future daughter is out there. Even the woman I supposedly marry then is out there." Even more so if Nicole finally joins the Ferry. "I preferred you heard it from me."
His hand falls away, a glance going to the door. "I still feel maybe I should return to the Grand Central." Benjamin looks to Lynette again, face continuing to be unreadable. "I'm not saying goodbye. Not yet." He promises again.
"Well… good, then we're on the same page. I just… I don't want you to feel like I'm too jealous to be able to handle it if you're looking around, too. And if this future works out like that future… I do really just want you to be happy, Ben. And I'm glad you told me." Lynette gives him a crooked smile there, her head tilting a bit, "I'm under no delusion that I'm anyone's forever material, so. Whatever happens, no hard feelings. Although, for the record, if there comes a time when I'm not allowed to sleep with you anymore, I'll be a little sad."
Her smile grows there a little, as if to prove that no hard feelings thing. Or to show that she's cool with it all as it stands now. "You can go, if that's easier for you. But there's a perfectly good bed here, you know. And it could even be actual, innocent sleep if you want," she adds, leaving the invitation open. She's cool with it, but she also wants him to know she still likes the idea of him being around.
Fingers wrap around her wrist, tightening enough so that Ben can draw her into his embrace. To wrap arms around her and just hold her close, head resting against her own. "To tell the truth, I could use some honest to god sleep." It's there in his tone. "The prospect of that long journey back to the Terminal." Is it really that far away?
"If you are sure" then he'll take that invitation for sleep. Ben is somewhat attached to Lynette, even if his foundation has been a bit shaken. Maybe for the better, he doesn't know. Yet.
Lynette doesn't argue being drawn in, she even slides her arms around his shoulders in return. She doesn't say anything, letting him take his moment to decide. But she leans back to smile at him. Amused. Indulgent. "I'm sure. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't."
She leans in again, to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "And really, after that close call, I'm with you on needing the sleep." She doesn't quite pull away yet, but she gives him a sort of odd look for a moment before she speaks up again. "I hope you know that I'm… your friend. I mean, yes, it's more than that at the moment," clearly "but if it comes to goodbye, I just hope it isn't— You know?"
It amuses him a little, but Ben does agree, "You are my friend." She was before all this even, before becoming lovers. Ryans smiles a little in return, maybe a touch uncertain. Yet arms tighten around her, a gentle squeeze. "Right now it's just… what is the term you kids are using these days? Friends with benefits?"
The smile is much more genuine now, turned up more to one side then the other. "Come on… you can tuck me in." This time there is no hidden meaning to the words, Benjamin means it. He's beat.
"That would be a good phrase for it, yes," Lynette says with a small chuckle. She touches his cheek a little, affectionately, before she pulls away. But one hand trails down his arm to take his hand. "Come on, old man," she says, teasing, "I think we'll both feel better after some good, solid sleep." And it's off to tuck him in, in the totally innocent sense of the term.