I Reckon


colette3_icon.gif joseph_icon.gif

Scene Title I Reckon
Synopsis One conversation with Joseph affirms to Colette that everything truly does happen for a reason.
Date July 12, 2009

Guiding Light Baptist Church

It's a nice day. Not nice enough that Joseph feels it fit to abandon the church and go out and enjoy it, but enough so that he isn't inside, exactly. The curving stone stairs that lead up to the doubledoors are currently occupied by him and his bear dog, the pastor seated on the uppermost step, shoulders against his bent knees and a circular cookie tin in his hand. Whatever is printed on the side doesn't actually advertise the overlarge oatmeal cookies found within, these of which he takes, breaks up a little, and feeds pieces absently to an ever hungry dog.

Sunday service was an hour or so ago, and he's since abandoned his tie and suit jacket in favour of a more casual denim over his button down shirt. Despite doing little more than tossing pieces of cookie into the snapping maw of the Newfoundland dog (though a closed Bible with numerous markers sitting beside him indicates what he had been intending to do), he doesn't seem bored, or waiting for anything in particular.

Contemplative, if anything. Sunlight glints off the frameless reading glasses he's wearing, despite not actually reading, and Joseph gently pushes Alicia away before foaming white flecks of spittle can get near the tin of cookies.

"Pastor Suuumper!" The voice comes from halfway across the street, followed by the loud slap of hard-soled boots clomping on the pavement as a familiar young girl in a carnation red hoodie comes barreling across the road, one hand holding the top of her head to keep her hood from falling back off of her head as she runs. "Good mooooorning!"

The sing-song voice belongs to none other than Colette Nichols, the wayward girl who found her way into the Pastor's presence not long enough ago for him to forget her voice. Carrying a paper bag with a grease spot on the bottom in one hand, the young teen pushes past a few people on the street and comes stomping up the stairs with a bounce to her step.

Joseph's wandering attention is easily drawn over to the call of his name, vague alarm manifesting in a few rapid blinks behind glasses before recognising the girl for who she is, the bright red a colourful indicator in the midst of so many neutral tones - blacks, greys, browns of the urban jungle. Alicia turns her head to regard the girl with rolling eyes, ears perking up before she's back to staring hopefully at the cookie tin.

"Mornin', Colette," Joseph says, not yet getting up to greet her as his other hand comes up to pull the glasses off his face, fold them up and set them down atop the New King James Bible at his side. Despite the paper bag likely bearing food in the teenager's hand, Joseph offers out the tin. "Cookie? I didn't make 'em." This addition serving to, perhaps, reassure Colette that they're edible.

"Can't never say no to a cookie, now can I?" The young girl's lips crook up into a smile as she reaches down into the tin to take one, rolling it over between her fingers before she offers out the paper bag towards Joseph. "Sub?" She grins from ear to ear, "Italian, light on the oil. It's a bit more substantial than cookies!" When did she start trying to incorporate puns into her sentances? "I stopped by Piccoli's to grab an early lunch," she begins, waving the paper bag around in one hand and waggling the cookie in the other, "but by the time I got halfway here I was too hungry to wait," her brows scrunch togewther, half of the cookie bitten off as she continues to talk while trying ot eat it, "mmnh, mho I sut down unh," that isn't going too well, so she quickly swallows the cookie half and grimaces.

"I— uh, ate mine on the way here on a bench, but I got you one too in case you were hungry! It— uh, I actually don't know if you… like Italian subs, come to think of it…" her head tilts to the side, lips pursing in thought as she taps the half of a cookie against her chin. It cracks down the middle, half tumbling out of her fingers to shatter on the steps.

A squeak erupts from Colette as she hastily tosses the last quarter into her mouth, chewing feverishly as if the cookie had tried to escape in some fashion. In her head, at least, the notion makes sense.

"Who doesn't?" The tin is closed off, much to the dismay of Alicia— or would be, if she wasn't busy getting to all four feet and moving to lap up the remains of Colette's cookie with a variety of snorting, snuffling sounds. Like a dying motor wrapped in cotton. Joseph absently patpats her between the shoulder blades before reaching to take the bag from the teenager's grasp, peeking inside with the approval of a man whose likely been advised not to indulge in such foods with the coming of 40.

But hey, it has salad, right? The paper crinkles as he goes to steal the sandwich out from the bag, glancing up at Colette again. "Thanks, that was thoughtful of you. You can sit down, if you like. Don't mind Alicia, she don't get out much." Said dog is distributing cookie crumbs and drool towards Colette's boots, out of love or at least curiousity.

"What can I do for you? Or were you just in the neighbourhood."

Smiling away the thanks for the sandwitch, Colette tucks her hands into the pouch of her hoodie and takes a few meandering steps to come to Joseph's side before crouching down next to him, withdrawing a hand from inside of that red fabric just long enough to nudge her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose again. "Business." As much business as Colette can possibly have, at least.

"I was… wonderin' how things were going with what we talked about before." The young girl tilts her head to the side, teeth tugging at her lower lip. "I actually kinda' skipped out on volunteering today down at the church across town to come see you about that. I… I've been having a lot've trouble, actually. Normally— normally I don't really talk to anyone about it, n'just get more and more frustrated until I snap at someone and— that's not really smart…" Her lips screw up into a frown, and the young girl's legs kick out from under her as she plops down on her backside.

"I've known I was… uh, special?" One brow rises up as she glances over to Joseph, "Since like… last fall, and I've just like— dorked around and done nothing with it. I mean— mostly." Explaining what happened on Staten Island is a story for another day. "I just— I want to make a difference, n'help people with the gift I've got." Gift. So many months ago, it was a curse. Times change even Colette Nichols. "What you said, about them, helping people… it made me sort've, like… start thinking, y'know?"

There are at least three types of meat in this thing. Positively sinful. Somehow, Joseph doesn't mind, although he only takes a bite of his lunch when its polite to do so, preoccupied with what the girl has to say. He glances intermittently towards her, seeing really his own reflection only in the black surfaces of her sunglasses - luckily, about every other part of Colette, from tone of voice to posture to flailing gestures are more expressive then eyes could ever hope to be.

He nods a long in understanding. "'s only natural for everyone to want to make some sorta impact on things," Joseph says. "I think these gifts we got— kinda light the way, or something. Or work like a reminder. And only a handful of everyone is really brave enough to actually do somethin'.

"Like the Ferrymen." Joseph offers her a smile. "I got thinkin' after you took off, too. Wound up going down there myself, making contact, rather'n just letting it go by. I can't exactly pledge my church to the cause, but I can do something, I reckon. At least I have an answer for those people that come to me for help, you know? More than just prayer, anyway."

Another bite is taken, quickly swallowed, and Joseph finds himself asking, "What is it you do? Your gift, I mean."

A giggle and a snort comes from Colette as she splutters out, "Hehe— Reckon." One hand covers her mouth, nose wrinkling as she snorts into her fingers. "S— sorry. I don't hear many people say that and— s— sorry." She strangles back another smiling laugh and shakes her head, exhaling a sigh as she wipes at the corner of one of her eyes.

"Oh, um." Realizing she didn't answer his question and mostly just was an obtuse blockhead and laughed at the way he talks, Colette scoots closer to Joseph and cups her hands together in front of him, the way someone would shield the flame of a lighter from the wind. Except, between her palms is nothing like fire, but rather a tiny blue-white butterfly made from pingerpainted light that flexes its wings. She peers over the top of her sunglasses with a small smile. "I play with light. S'more than that," she notes, closing her hands around the butterfly, then pulls her hands apart to reveal that it's gone, "that's not something for outdoorsy show and tell."

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose again, Colette tilts her head to the side and looks down to the enormous dog snuffing around the edges of the cookie tin. "Do… do you think that there's a place for someone like me with them?" She regards the pastor through the ragged fringe of her bangs as they sweep down to hide one lens of her sunglasses entirely. "I— I've taken a lot from people's kindness, I— it's really time for me to start giving back, y'know?" Then, after a pause, she snorts out a laugh and adopts an entirely inappropriate accent; "Ah' reckon it's time!"

To be honest, Joseph hasn't seen much of the flashier side of Evolved ability. Abby, or rather, Deckard's healing is discreet at best, and Daphne's blurring superspeed is one of the more overt sightings he's witnessed. But nothing so complex and intricate seeming as creating a butterfly of light, the glow bouncing off the inward curve of the young woman's fingers, and its magical disappearance. It's enough to distract him from any annoyance at his accent being snickered at, at least.

Until she does it again, to which Joseph draws his mouth into a line of patient disapproval and nudges her with his elbow. Yeah, yeah. "I reckon there might be," he says, picking a little at a wayward shred of lettuce trying to make its escape to the ground, before he moves his knee to gently push the dog away from the cookie tin. "Alicia, get." An unimpressed snort and whine is all he gets by way of answer from the dog, who goes to push past them and find somewhere cool within the church to lie down, black, long-furred tail swinging to and fro as she goes.

"I think what it depends on is how much you're willin' to do. Far as I can tell, the Ferry don't expect more'n you're willing to give. They have a place with St. John's Cathedral, but I get the feeling— the feeling they're far bigger than just that."

Dark brows crease together, and Colette's lips part slightly. "S— St.John's?" That, right there, seem to surprise her more than anything. "I— R-really? They're like… super secretive then, cause I've been volunteering there since last fall and— wow, that— " she snorts out a laugh, leaning back on the steps with both palms flat behind her. "Wow… I— never really thought…"

Snapping herself back to reality, Colette glances over at Joseph with a broad smile. "M'willing to give whatever's needed. So— I guess I won't really know until I see what they do, and what I can do. M'not really like— book smart or nothin'," her lips purse to one side, "but I'll do my best, whatever it is they need. Do— do you think they'd let you show me 'round there? Or— I mean, h— how do I go about doing this? It's…" her nose wrinkles for a brief moment, "it's kinda' complicated."

The last couple of bites of sub are devoured as she speaks, before Joseph is balling up the paper bag and the sandwich wrapping into one crinkly handful, the side of his thumb used to wipe away lingering bread crumbs. "They got whole sections devoted to the Ferry," he says, with a mild shake of his head. "Places for people to go before a temporary while, places for supplies— and I'm guessin' those get sent out to who knows where. They haven't told me too much about what's beyond St. John's, but it's clear they have places for people to go, you know?"

And he attempts to throw the crumpled up paper towards the trash can across the pavement, where it readily falls short. It wouldn't have taken a precog to predict that, and Joseph is pushing himself to his feet to pick it up, drop it in properly. "I can," he responds, belatedly, dusting his hands off when he turns back towards Colette, and the scattered debris of his reading glasses, Bible and cookie tin. "I mean—

"I don't want to overstep my bounds. I wasn't even with 'em when your friend pointed you to me. But I— " Not 'reckon'. There's a hesitation as Joseph tries again. "But I think they won't mind me showin' you around. I met a few of the supervisors, anyway, been back a coupla times since. Grace, an' Stephen, Alistair. I can show you their set up, and I think if you volunteer back there, you'll find a bunch've roads to go down. I'm hopin' that…" And he nods, now, towards the church front rising up from the street, all old brick and stained glass windows. "That the Guiding Light'll just be one of those."

Where once there was a snorted giggle, there is now a choked laugh as Colette bolts up into a seated position. "Grace?" Joseph may as well have said Judah was a member for all the way she reacts, "Grace and stupidface Stephen!?" Stupidface, because that is the most mature thing to call someone she's worked with for nine months. "They— " eyes wide and mouth hanging open, Colette finally starts putting together all of the incongruent things that seemed to follow her around, all of the oddities that have pieced themselves into her life and her time at St.Johns, and her time knowing Grce.

"I— I know Grace, I— she's a friend of mine. I— I used to intern at the computer company she works for." Blinking repeatedly, Colette brings a hand up to rub at the side of her face, huffing out a feigned sigh before breaking out into near fitful laughter. "I— I think this has got to be— " she covers her mouth with one hand, giggling into her palm.

"Joseph," Colette's brows rise slowly, a lopsided smile hidden behind the cage of her fingers, "this's really weird, m'kay?" She can't help but smile, can't help but laugh herself to the point of being winded before finally just hunching over to catch her breath with a wheeze. "I— Grace's never gonna' let me live down not figurin' this out on my own."

M'kay. As Colette sputters over recent revelations, Joseph comes to stand at the base of the stairs and wait politely and patiently, expression inquisitive and arms loosely folded, before offering a smile when the girl states her reasons for bewilderment. "That's somethin'," he states, simply. Well, it is! "It's either weird or fateful and I have a tendency to lean towards the latter. Seems like you're more apart of this crowd then you knew."

He could say the same, if less— cluelessly. Sorry, Cols. Joseph picks his way back up the stairs, although doesn't necessary resume his seat. Picks up his glasses, slips it into a pocket, and collects the King James Bible along with the cookie tin. "If you'd still like me to take you there, I'd be more'n happy to. Otherwise you got a few friends to shake down for information, I wouldn't wonder.

"You know, though." His fingertips rap against the side of the tin, thoughtfully. "Once you get yourself established over there, I could use a kind've go-between. There's only so much I can do, if I want to remain a pastor and loyal to my church. If you're be willin' to help out over here as well as over there, I'd appreciate it."

Shaking her head, Colette awkwardly rises up to her feet, dusting the back of her jeans down as she looks up to Joseph, a smirk still plastered across her face. "Fateful," she agrees with a slow nod of her head, "I— m'starting to realize that a whole lot more these days. There's… a reason everything happens." Scratching at her right brow absently, Colette takes a step down the stairs to stand just shy of where Joseph is, but the added height putting them more at an even level.

"I think that's a pretty awesome idea, Joe." Colette takes hopping steps down the last two stairs, looking over her shoulder at Joseph. "I think everything really does happen for a reason. Why I was told to see you about the Ferrymen instead of anyone else. Why we found each other…" her brows crease together, head slowly shaking as her smirk turns into a smile. "I dunno what you'd call that, but— it's starting to make good sense t'me."

Joe, well, that's a new one. Maybe. Joseph doesn't have the best memory at the most convenient of times, but mostly people address him formerly, or with scowling and narrowed glares if you're Flint. "Pretty sure it's called serendipity," Joseph hazards, cheerfully, and moves up the stairs as Colette moves down them, a hand placing on the edge of the door as he nods to back to her. "Take care've yourself, alright?"

And with that, he leaves behind the promise of a future trip to the Cathedral - the insider's guide, anyway - and the remnants of the sunny day for Colette to do what she will with.

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