lorraine_icon.gif raith_icon.gif

Scene Title Important
Synopsis After her phone call, Lorraine tells Jensen Raith she needs to meet up with the person she called.
Date May 4, 2010

Lorraine's Room — Ferry Safehouse

"I've seen her. Liette. Our daughters are alive. We need to meet up soon."

The simple room has very little that could be called a commodity. A small bed, against the wall where she sits, which serves the purposes, but doesn't do so comfortably. Light to see by. A heater to keep some of the cold out. But Lorraine Fournier is less interested in anything actually in the room, if the way she's closing her eyes gives any indication. There's a pause as she listens to the response on the other side, before she physically responds to the conversation with a shake of her head, "No, don't do anything drastic. I'll try to come to you, if I can." Her voice is soft, careful, but not quite careful enough.

"Take care of yourself," she finishes, taking the phone away and clicking the button to shut the call down, and turn the phone off. A short call, able to transfer necessary info without hanging around on the line too long, she leans back against the wall that the bed's sitting on, legs curled up on the bed under her.

Privacy during a phone conversion is sometimes an appreciated commodity, and in this one instance, Jensen Raith has not been kind enough to provide it, even if he has provided the illusion of it by briefly stepping outside the room and left the door cracked just enough to listen in. Nothing incriminating, nothing giving away a location. Nothing that, at least on the surface, he doesn't like. He taps out three brief knocks on the door before he turns the handle- as if it had been shut- and pushes it opened. "Short and sweet is best, hm?" he asks, although it's plain that 'short and sweet' is not so much what he's concerned about at the moment, "Old friend?"

The knock on the door seems to startle her, causing the phone to nearly drop out of her hand. "I thought— " Lorraine doesn't finish, but then again, she doesn't really have to. No matter secrets she might be keeping, the surprise is genuine. Standing up from the small bed, she drops the phone down onto a crate that acts as a bedside table, next to the light that keeps the room illuminated. "Something like that. I might need to catch a ride out to Manhattan. The weather makes things a bit more difficult than I'm used to. This is practically Siberia." And it just keeps getting worse. There's a casual tone to her voice, as if she's not sure ife he'd listened in or not.

"This has nothing on Siberia. Not yet," is Raith's flat reply. He abandons the door frame and settles for leaning against the wall inside the room, next to the door frame, idly scratching an itch on his right hand, just underneath his cast. "Manhattan's a tough sell too, though. Catching a boat across is getting tough right now, so the only reliable way across is the long way through Jersey City. But-" The ex-spy ceases itching an gestures vaguely with his hand, as if to likewise indicate, 'however'- "If that's where you need to go, it can be arranged, I think."

"If you're going to stay a few minutes…" Lorraine says, moving closer to the door frame, hand running through the blonde hair that's fallen out of the ponytail. Not as ratted as the young girl they subjected to a bath, but getting there. Grabbing the door, she pushes it closed. "It'll stay warmer this way," she explains, even smiling as she looks over, leaning a bit against the now closed door with one arm. "It's not urgent, but it'd be nice to do it soon. There's a lot I can't share over the phone, and— though I am worried that this Institute that keeps getting mentioned, the one that grabbed me… they might be after her too."

"After your friend?" Raith asks, "It possible. And that's exactly why you won't go alone. People, organizations like the Institute have this bad habit of getting into everything." Just as there is a casual tone to Lorraine's voice, there is a casual, nearly dismissive tone to Raith's, as if this Institute thing was just something that happened, like rain or snow. "Not as bad as the KGB, so I've heard, but still pretty bad, although the KGB at least had things like, sensibility, and direction. The Institute is what happens when the government throws money at a problem that doesn't exist in an effort to solve it."

"I'm no longer the naive secretary you met in France, assuming you even remember that much about me," Lorraine says, keeping the casual tone, but also smiling a little at her own expense. "But even then, I don't know much about the KGB or places like the Institute." There's often been deference to his knowledge from her since she came back into his life. "Though if they're anything like the man who kept our daughters a secret for most of their life, then I'm not too fond of them."

The hand she held against the door drops away, and she moves back, as if allowing him freedom to move again, "Would you be taking me out there, or one of the others?"

"It depends," Raith replies. Rather than elaborating, he holds up his cast-bound arm, using than as an explanation instead.

"Well, I wouldn't want to strain your arm," Lorraine says, walking the few steps over to the bed and settling down against it. "What happened? Did you get taht in the incident Liette mentioned? Where she remembered you from?"

"No, this actually came later." The change of topic leads to a change, however slight, in Raith's tone: Still casual, but now less serious. "You see, I threw myself on top of my French doctor to protect him, and then a building fell on me. True story. Very painful. But I'm getting better."

"And I thought my life was strange," Lorraine says with a laugh, beginning to unbutton the top layer of her sweater. The way her clothes are worn, it's obvious she has more than one top on, and possibly even more than one set of pants. The weather calls for extra protection. "Though I have had a building fall on me before." If one wants to compare stories, that's one of her own. "You're welcome to stay, if you want," she says, as she discards the first button up sweater, to reveal a t-shirt layer.

A shrug is Raith's initial reply. "Cast really complicates things that should be simple, like cleaning a gun, so my usual activities have been briefly set aside. I'm in no hurry to be anywhere. We can use the time to catch up, although I'd rather not talk about the last eight years. Bad memories. What about you? Prior to Petrelli happening across you, at least? Meet any interesting people?"

"No, none as interesting as him, at least," Lorraine says, letting her hands rest as she watches him across the room. "I worked for a couple people in the government, at Embassies and other places like in France, and at a few universities, and some other jobs." There's something that seems to trail off, eyes shifting toward the phone. "If you do go with me, there's something you should know about the meeting. You or whoever goes with me."

"Sounds important." Since Raith elects not to keep waiting back, leaning against the wall, but steps forward (ostensibly so hearing poses less difficulty) and toward Lorraine, it must be important. "Maybe important enough to influence the decision of who goes. What is it?"

"I haven't brought it up because no one directly asked what it was, and it hasn't been important until now," Lorraine says, looking away from the phone to meet his eyes. "It's about my ability."

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