In And Out Over Lasagna


alexander_icon.gif ben_icon.gif helena_icon.gif teo_icon.gif

Scene Title In And Out Over Lasagna
Synopsis There is lasagna. Also, Ben reunites with Helena and Alex, and Teo gives his vacation notice.
Date May 20, 2009

Old Dispensary

On the outside, this sprawling multi-level complex has not seen use in many years, its walls covered in greenery and stone exterior and glass windows showing evidence of disrepair. Surrounded by a chain link fence, a drive leads from the street to a large dock, and around the back one can expect to find more sprawling greenery that eventually leads to a concrete drop off into the Atlantic Ocean.

Passing through the chainlink fence and into the dispensary will reveal that the aged and crumbling outside is a facade. The loading dock is kept clear for the most part of everything save vehicles and supplies, though a section has been quartered off and transformed into an open workshop. The dispensary itself has been transformed into something akin to a makeshift dormitory, complete with common areas, a sizable kitchen and eating area, with various rooms converted into bedrooms for the residence. One room has even been set up as a makeshift clinic, amply stocked with supplies.

The back lawn and garden of the dispensary is surprisingly well tended, green and lush during the right months. Vegetables have been planted in accordance to season closer to the building, though someone has indulgently planted a plots of flowers - notably sunflowers - here and there. Further out, the ground drops a little and makes it to a concrete edge from which opens out into deeper water of the Atlantic.

In the kitchen. It's one of the default locations where one can find Helena, generally accompanied by the smell of food. Something tomato-y rich is currently in the oven, still an hour or two away from being complete. But Helena has long since finished cooking, and instead she's bent over a notebook at the kitchen table, writing notes and looking concentrated and thoughtful. There's simply too much information in her head and it's hard to keep track of it all, a little bit of writing may help put it in order.

Ben makes his way into the dispensary, backpack slung over one shoulder, tired-looking as usual and at least clad in regular clothes instead of his uniform. He clanks a little when he walks, and when he steps into the kitchen area he's digging out two cans of ravioli from the backpack. Hey, wait. "Helena?"

"Ben?" is the near-echo of surprise, once she's lifted her head to see who's imposed on her solitude. She looks the same, and different. If he's a details sort of guy, she's got a scar under her chin, seems physically stronger, and only just starting to not look underfed anymore. The eyes are different too. She smiles a little, like she's not sure how he's going to react, and simply offers quietly, "I'm glad you're okay."

Ben nearly drops his ravioli, but recovers in time. "Same for you." He puts the cans down on the table, approaching her with an amazed look on his face - eyebrows up, mouth hanging open a bit, the whole nine yards. Looking her face over, he nods. "You really did it. You actually time traveled." A pause, and then he adds, "Welcome back," and opens his arms. Hug time?

"Yeah." she says, and actually blinks a little in confusion, "Are you - " she trails it off, then gets up from her chair and what the hell, gives him a hug. "I didn't see you at the raid, so I had no idea if you were okay." she murmurs as she does so.

Ben hugs Helena briefly; they're in the kitchen area. It's a light hug, really, and he steps back with a shake of his head. "Wasn't even in town at the time. Are you alright? How long have you been back?"

"Not long." Helena admits. "About a week, now. But there's a lot to catch up on. People have been busy in Phoenix and Ferrymen, but it seems like there's a lot of regrouping to do. Out of town…did you go back to Boston?" She gestures to the kitchen table, goes to seat herself.

Ben nudges the two cans of ravioli on the table aside and pulls out a chair, still looking mildly dumbstruck. Time travel! "Uh, yeah. Back to Boston. Not to be rude, but have you guys been given medicals? We should be sure you didn't get small pox from the nice blankets."

There's the clatter of feet on the stairs - Al comes rattling down, barrelling into the kitchen. Only to come a nearly literally screeching halt when he spots the other two. Each of them gets an owlish blink, in turn, before the redhead asks mildly, "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

The kitchen smells like lasagna, which makes sense, because one is in the oven. "I think if we didn't start dying by now, we're all okay, but no, I don't think any of us have gotten physicals." Helena bites her lip a little and still can't quite prevent her smile before looking over at Alex. "No, it's okay." Back to Ben. "I know some folks are going to be taking up are resident morpher to change their faces, but that's about as medical as any of us have gotten." Unless you count the formula, but she's not quite ready to pony up that information to Ben yet.

Ben turns his head toward Alexander and nods after a moment. "Uh. No. You're not," he tells the other guy. "No physicals yet. Huh." There's that hint of disapproval right there. Oh, Ben. It's been so long.

"Last I heard, none of us took any serious hurt since we got back," Al offers, rather quizzically, in his slow drawl. "And….maybe we should. Get looked at, I mean," he offers, clearly changing his mind midstream.

Helena's smile is still faint and amused. "Some of the eight people who got shunted aren't with this, and the ones that are may not consent. For that matter," her gaze going more serious, "I don't want you near Elle Bishop. She's dangerous. But I'll let you look me over, and I imagine Alex will too. I'll ask Django."

Ben shakes his head. "I don't know who those two are. Elle, Django." Glancing between the two of them, he finally asks, "What was it like?"

Al's expression seals over like a winter pond. "Moab was ….bad. Maybe not as bad as some federal pens, but bad enough." He doesn't discuss the future at all.

"Moab was bad enough." Helena says quietly, and then, "The future we went to may not matter. Things are always changing. In some ways it was wonderful to see, but in others," she shrugs stiffly. "Not so much. Will you stay for dinner? Lasagna's only got about another forty-five minutes." She leans back. "Django was a fellow Moab prisoner. He was a thief, and he was my friend across the fence. Elle is a Company agent who got gestalted along with the rest of us. She's dangerous." No embellishments, there.

"Mmn," Ben says. He glances between them again, offering a bit of a rueful look. "I meant the future you visited, yes. I can't imagine what Moab was like, though I'll want to ask questions. Later, I think. When it's less… raw. I can stay for dinner, sure."

The redhead notes, "She's a fuckin' psycho, is what," He lifts his arm, to expose the spider-line scars there. "Gave me these, back when." He grunts and sits down at the table. The fridge door opens itself, and a bottle of IBC is apparently hurled out of its depths and lands in Al's waiting hand like a falcon returning to the glove. "It was good," he says to Ben, levelling a pale stare at him. "Like a goddamn dream come true." Yeah, someone's not happy about being back in the past.

"I don't care if you ask." Helena says, perhaps abruptly as she pushes away from the table to head toward the fridge. "I mean," she ammends, "I don't mind if you ask. It's not so much raw at this point as numb." Her hand reaching for the door, lowers and instead she just peers inside and pulls out a pitcher of lemonade. She turns, lifting the pitcher inquiringly to Ben.

Ben leans over to examine the scars, brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Huh." He leans back in his seat again, opens his mouth, seems to think the better of it, closes it again, and gives the lemonade a blink. "Sure, that'd be great. Thanks." Lemonade and lasagna. Two great tastes together at last. Ben awkwardly rests his hands on the table.

Alexander goes on to explain, "She's an electrokine. Crazy little human taser." He gives Ben a curious looking-over. "What you been up to inna meanwhile?"

Helena stays silent as she hunts down glasses and pours, taking her time with her back to the men as she listens to Ben's reply.
Ben's brow furrows mightily once more. "Electrokinetic? Think I saw one of those once. In an alley. Smelled… awful." He shakes his head a bit; some things are best shoved into dusty corners of the mind. "I've been doing the same thing. Work." He shrugs a shoulder, trying to think of something else. "Maybe get a cat."

Alexander nods, sagely, and pops the top off his rootbeer. He doesn't chug it, but takes sedate mouthfuls. By the way his gaze keeps darting to the oven, he's starving. And then he looks at Helena. "Well, what's the story with Phoenix?"

Helena turns back with glasses in hand, setting one in front of Ben and setting hers before her seat. "I'm jealous." she tells Ben seriously and then peers at Alex. "What do you mean, what's the story?"

Ben takes up his glass and has a small sip. Hmn. Not bad. "Are you asking me? Uh. I don't know. I should track down Teo or Cat, but… work. Lots of work." People just keep getting hurt in New York!

"Just wonderin' if anything'd happened while we were gone," Al explains, blinking between the both of them.

"My impression is that things have been in a holding pattern." Helena says. "A lot of people scattered, with Cat and Teo both doing a lot of coordinating. We're going to have to get things rolling again as to our purpose, not to mention the future travelers here and the Company and Pinehearst."

Ben's head bobs. "Holding pattern sounds about right. Trying to get people out of Moab and back in the present time." He scratches his chin. "I'm not the best person to ask. I was gone a while." After another sip of lemonade, he briefly licks his lips. "There's FRONTLINE, I guess. You've been back long enough to have heard about that."

Alexander shakes his head at that, giving Ben an expectant look. "No. I mean….no."

"FRONTLINE was the government sponsored Evolved militia which I think also has ties to Pinehearst." Helena recalls. "That anti-Evolved rally from a few days ago featured that woman who looks like Jessica nearly getting taken by the mob. That's about all I know."

Ben swipes a line through the condensation on his glass. "That's about it. Evolved military. Pinehearst?"

"Just think," Al deadpans. "What a glittering career I missed. Coulda been outta the freak closet and in the Army."

Helena gives Ben a bleak smile. "If the city was a chessboard, The Company would be one side, and Pinehearst the other. It's run by Arthur Petrelli…who up until a month ago everyone thought was dead. Pinehearst is in some ways better than the Company ever was, and in other ways a hell of a lot worse."

Ben tilts his head at Alex, turns his attention back to Helena. "Oh," Ben says, eyebrows going up. "I suppose that's not surprising. Hell, I bet it's more RISK than chess. How do you keep track of it all? What can you tell me about them?"

Alexander looks over with interest, as well. Someone was kinda out of it in the future.

"About Pinehearst?" Helena asks for clarification.

"About Pinehearst. About anything, really," Ben says, gesturing with one hand. "I really don't know what's going on."

Alexander drawls, lazily, "What he said. I'm not exactly blonde, but I might as well be." He punctuates this with a properly shit-eating grin to let her know he's teasing.

Helena flicks her hair at Alexander with a smirk. "Right now we're propogating the facade of friendly - or at least open - terms with Pinehearst. They are the most likely medium to take down the Company. Arthur Petrelli will become - or already is - a dangerous, power-hungry man. Peter believes in him, and rather than disrupt that, I want to see how far we can go with them before it might become necessary to act against them. They're in the process of developing a formula to give syntheticaly generated abilities to Non-Evolved. If things continue on course, eventually they'll succeed."

Ben blinks rapidly, setting his glass down. "…Really? Is it widesprea——was it widespread? Seriously? What happened?"
Al puts down his bottle, as well, none too gently. He very nearly slops rootbeer all over the tabletop. "You're not even kidding, are you?"

Helena gives Alex a direct look - what did he think those vials Cat and she grabbed in the lab were? Especially when they injected Peter? Turning to Ben, "I don't believe it was. Evolved had much more freedom in that future, so abilities in public were commonplace, but I know of at least one person who took it successfuly in the future and there were obviously more. I think it's barely in the proto-stages now."

"That's amazing," Ben says quietly, brow furrowing. "I'd never thought… well, I'd've thought it'd be the sort of thing only the very rich could get ahold of. But there was more freedom for the Evolved? That's good, that's really good. Was there still the Registration act?"

Alexander flicks a hand irritably at the idea. "No. None of that bullshit, not really. You could basically choose to be in the Yellow Pages, if you had a useful power."

"What he said." Helena nods. "Registration was entirely voluntarily and you could market your Evolved ability for your business. Training was available to help you deal with abilities and control them, legislation for thinks like air traffic control for flying people and teleportation licenses and…" she shakes her head. "Kind of crazy." A faint smile.

Ben nods, rubbing his bristly chin. He forgot to shave, or just put it off for another day or three 'til he was finished with other things. "Good. But not how things are now, right." What smile he had fades, gaze lowering to the floor as he thinks of something that does not seem terribly happy.

"Wazzat look for?" asks Herr Knight, the very soul of tact. "You look like someone just shot your dog."

"What he said." Helena notes, observing Ben thoughtfully. "I mean…if someone offered you the formula, would you take it?"
Ben blinks; he looks up again, shaking his head. "If someone offered me the formula? I… I don't know. That's an interesting question." Whatever darkness came over him has left, and he didn't have to say a word about it because of the question. "Do they figure out what causes certain people to have certain powers? I've seen some troublesome ones to live with."

Now that is a question worth asking. If they know what variant of the gene grants what power. Al looks over, brows arched.

"I did a little reading - it was mainly about how natural Evolved powers are theorized as developing, but it might be applicable to synthetic as well. And it's only a theory." Helena stresses. "It seems to develop based on subconscious desire or need. Though fact-based as far as I know? There seems to be some connection to the adrenal glands."

Ben's eyebrows go up. "Huh. I guess Melissa harboured a deep and secret love for purple after all."

Helena laughs. "Like I said, it's just theory."

"That's a weird theory," Al says, but he sounds thoughtful, rather than scornful.

"It makes me wonder how many diseases it could cure or help someone to cope with," Ben muses. "I don't know. I really don't know."
Helena studies Ben a moment. "Think about it, would you?" she asks. "Whether you think you would take the formula. I'd really be interested in your answer." She leaves it at that before looking to Al. "My understanding is that there was a previous formula that may have worked, but it's been lost."

Alexander wonders aloud, "What need is my ability supposed to fulfill, other than a longing for raw destruction?"

Ben smiles faintly at Helena; he doesn't answer her. Instead he looks to Alexander. "…What is your ability?" He glances toward the fridge. "Telekinesis?"

Helena murmurs only, "I wasn't expecting an answer now. It's something that should rightfully take time." She rises and walks to the stove, opening a cabinet drawer to pull out some faded oven mitts.

Alexander nods to that. ANd notes to Helena, idly, "No need," The oven opens, apparently of itself, and the lasagana floats out to head for the counter.

"That's not violence you're doing now," Ben tells Alexander, brows arching. "…Can you fly?"

Helena makes a face. "Alex, I like doing it." Still, she moves to sit down again, because now the lasagna needs to cool. "I wish I could fly." she mumbles.

"Not yet," Al says, and gives Helena a rather sheepish look.

"That would be pretty awesome," Ben says, sipping his lemonade again. "Smells good," he offers, as an afterthought. And then he frowns, eyeing Helena warily.

"What?" she asks. "I can control wind. You'd think that would provide the possibility of flight, but no, not really. Not unless I want to call getting picked up by a cyclone and smacked into a wall 'flying'."

"Things ain't been the same since that house fell on your sister," Al notes, drily.

"There's some stuff I should check on," Ben says, standing up. "It needs time to cool anyway, right?"

"I'd like to know why what I said seemed to bother you." Helena says plainly, "But yeah, the food won't be ready for a bit." She gives Ben a faintly anxious smile. "It's good to see you." she says to him, and then looks to Alexander with an arched brow. "A little less Elphaba, a little more Dorothy, I think."

Ben sighs faintly at Helena. "I'm not bothered. Be back in a bit." It's not a chat with Ben unless something's been sighed at.

Alexander just winks at Helena, merrily.

Helena smiles in the aftermath of that sigh, and looks to Alexander. The smile stiffens a little. "You didn't have to come back." she says. "I told you that."

"If it works out like it did for that future, I don't dare be the missing piece," Al says, obliquely, shooting her a patient look.
Helena frowns a little bit. "The future's already changing because the circumstances are changing. We should still be in Moab right now, and we're not. That in itself puts us in a position to take action where we couldn't in the other timeline."

Alexander nods to her. "I just……I'd have regretted it, in time. And wondered how things worked out here," He sighs, and quotes, "Make your choice, adventurous stranger; Strike the bell and bide the danger, or wonder, till it drives you mad, what would have followed if you had…"

Helena is seated at the kitchen table with Alex. A lasagna, fresh from the oven, is cooling on one of the counters. "Did I tell you I met Sal?" she asks. "Teo's, um…boyfriend. He's nice."

"I'm sure he must be," Al says, in the polite, perfectly neutral tone people reserve for hearing about other peoples' kids/lovers/wives/pets. "I've met him before. He helped me with some of my scars. A good guy," Why does it sound like a slur?

Maybe Teo had found his crucifix in a tangle or sneezed outside. Hard to say. Whatever the case may be, he barges in surprisingly on-cue with a characteristic hint of self-consciousness making awkward the hooligan swing of his saunter.

He pushes the hood off the top of his head as he clatters in through the doorway, puts up a hand in salutation. "Buona sera," he says first. Then, his large Finnish beezer swinging toward the counter and its great cheesy slab of gourmet, "Fucking A." Third, by way of clarification, "Can't stay. Just wanted to let you guys know I was going to take some shore leave, if that's all right with you." Despite the established order of the hierarchy, there's an odd twist to his line of sight, like he's asking both of them.

Helena starts to say more, when Teo arrives. Funnily enough, she glances at her lasagna, if it could pass Italian boy muster than it'd be good, right? But he clearly doesn't have time, and it's not cool enough yet. "How long?" she asks.

Speak of the….yeah. Al goes pokerfaced, again. Somehow Moab has made him ever less expressive. He shrugs mutely, and looks down at his IBC bottle, like it might commiserate with him.

"A week?" Teo's brow furrows slightly as if he finds it difficult to believe he's asking for this; which he does. It is, after all, completely untoward for him to take vacations. "I'll have my phone on and my bike with me, and S—" Sal for a few days, but the words cut short, hyphenate, and he shrugs to punctuate that with a poorly-placed comma before finishing, "if you need me for anything I can bail.

"I just need some time to think." He looks at the IBC bottle too, then its owner, then Helena, then her lasagna. His gaze sort of traces the outline of a rhombus, effectively.

No, stay. I need you. "Of course." says Helena. "If we can keep in touch with you, then it's fine. You've been shouldering quite a lot, Teo." Helena smiles, though it might not come quite quickly enough. "You deserve a break."

Alexander just nods to that, rather absentmindedly. Like it is a matter of course.

Ehh. There's a noncommittal flit of fingers through the air at Teo's side, a bit shrug. Not that much. "Gillian can get you in touch with Gabriel, and Eileen still has her phone on her last I checked, if you need them for anything." Not that Teodoro honestly thinks they will; that particular subdepartment of public relations has been quiet, lately. "I've already given them our thanks for helping out with the raid.

"I—" he trips over an ambiguous concern and finds himself caught neatly between the presumption of his usefulness and the fact that he kind of isn't. Not in Arthur's eyes, not for any immediate procedural needs. He scrapes another few steps closer, bumps into the counter with his hip. Studies the shape of Helena's smile. "Are you sure?"

"You deserve a break." Helena insists. And it's not going to do he any good, acting like a co-dependent little kid anymore, now will it? "Enjoy yourself, or I'll cry." she gives the Italian boy a faint grin.
Al still wants to, though. But he doesn't. He just gets up to get utensils and plates in a perfectly ordinary way, like it's all none of his business.

For a stiff moment, it looks like Teo's about to volunteer some figment of protest or rationalization. Point out that nothing's happening right now: Tyler Case remains hidden, the Petrelli dynasty wouldn't give a fuck, Cat knows everything he does with extra, and Helena's back now so—

So that wouldn't be helpful at all to share. His teeth meet with a click and he exhales through them, the air of his lungs almost whistling with the passage. When Al gets up, he glances at his friend's back, scratching at his pant leg with a clumsy drub of blunt fingers. "Jess," he says. "Hey."

Helena rises from the table and moves to the counter, going through drawers until she finds a spatula, and begins cutting it up into sections. With her back turned to the boys, it's like giving them some privacy, except for hearing every word they say.

"Hey," Al's voice is steady. Affable even, as he raises his gaze to meet Teo's. The blue eyes are opaque as marble, as prison walls.

The fingers knot at Teo's sides briefly, before loosening again. He is about as opaque as particularly squeaky mountain air. His eyes drop to the floor and he straightens his shoulders as if he were bracing in the ranks of an army. "I'm sorry about what I said the other day. It's— uh. All the fucking politicking I've been doing these past few months. I never know— what to believe.

"So," he hazards a glance at Helena, where she's turned away and he grows exponentially more awkward still, as if even remaining upright were a lucky coincidence of balance rather than design or intent, "I was an ass. When I get back, I'll be thinking more clearly. See you then?"

Helena turns around. "What you said yesterday?" she asks uncertainly.

Al simply doesn't look at him. Drops his gaze to the brown curves of the rootbeer bottle. "It's fine. Enjoy your break," he says, quietly.

"Not yesterday, a little before that," Teo corrects, somewhat foolishly. He shifts on his feet. Doubtless, a hug would be too much to ask for. He doesn't. "O—kay. I'll see you guys in about a week, then. Buona notte, 'nd Godspeed." Hesitantly, he turns away, jamming his conspicuously empty hands into his pockets.

"Teo - " Helena crosses the distance, and she hugs him, instead. "Have a good time, okay? I mean it." She and the others are in the kitchen, which smells like it belongs to someone Italian. Mostly on account of the freshly made lasagna sitting on the counter as it cools. Alexander's still in his seat, and Helena is stepping back from her co-leader. "If the Apocalypse comes, we'll text you."

"Please god, a little downtime," Alex says, drily.

There is similar sentiment trotting out across Teo's face. Apocalypse while he's on vacation— that would be just like them, too. "Okay. If you RickRoll me with that shit, I will drive back here just to back the Harley over your head," he mumbles in the girl's ear. He'd just put his hands in his pockets or he might have done more to get his arms around her and finish his half of the hug.

Instead, he tucks his shoulders forward, cupping Helena briefly in the concave of his torso. "A'right." Al's white face goes one more look, before he leans into a backward step.

"Bring me a present." Helena says with cheerful whimsy to Teo before taking a step back and studiously avoiding looking at Alexander. Instead, she moves to pick up Ben's abandoned lemonade cup and sticks it in the sink before returning back to her seat at the kitchen table.

There's lasagna. Which is cool enough to eat now. So that's what Al does. He doesn't seem to have overmuch of an appetite, however. But he does force himself to eat, rather than pushing it away.

Seeing no good in ruining the ambience or presiding appetites further, Teo retreats. For once, it really is that simple.

After Teo retreats, Helena frowns over at Alexander. "What was that?" she asks, a bit flatly. "Why did you treat him that way?" She shakes her head a little, and eyes him a bit while he starts eating her cooking. Despite knowing the look on his face has more to do with the altercation than the food, she bites off the urge to actually ask.

"I don't want to get into it," His voice lacks rancor - it's like he's reading aloud from a newpspaer. "I just don't. Not worth discussing."

"Okay." Helena says docilely. She helps herself to some of the lasagna, slapping it onto a plate and rerouting to get the pitcher from the fridge to set on the table. Pouring herself some more lemonade, she digs in, pleased with the result. "I need to sit down with you and Cat, and go over all the different items we have to consider. Pinehearst. Frontline. The Future 8. God, the stuff we were supposed to be doing in the first place. Most everyone is scattered."

That's a far easier subject to deal with. Al nods sagely, works down that mouthful of lasagna. "It's like the Hydra," He scrapes up another mouthful. "Cut off one head, seven more spring up."

"I know." Helena says, slumping back in her seat and looks to the side. "Arthur Petrelli suggested he might be able to do something about our fugitive status. I'm just…we know what he turns into, Alex."

"It sounds like cutting a deal with the devil. But…..cliche as it may be," he notes, between neat bites, "I think we have to figure out which is the lesser of two evils. You know both sides will fuck us, if we let them."

"Well I sure as hell am not going to side with the Company." Helena says emphatically. "I just hope the intel I gave Arthur turns out to be good, and Roger Goodman doesn't wind up dead. Because if he does, then the Company won't fall. Someone else would have to take it down, and I really don't have to count on Elle's better nature."

""She ain't got none, s'far's I could see," Al notes, wiping at his mouth with a paper towel in lieu of a napkin. "What exactly is it that Goodman can do to the Company?"

Helena blinks. "Alex, did you not do any research while we were in the future, or were you and Teo just playing lovemonkey the whole time? Goodman's the one who blows the whistle. Brings all their nasty, dirty business out into the open. It's how the Company goes down in flames."

Alexander nods to that. "No, 's matter of fact, I didn't," he admits, without a flicker of guilt. "Right. Why can't he pass on the necessary info? Duplicate it, so that even if he goes down, we can still finish what he began?"

"That's a good question, but kind of irrelevant since we're not him and we got the heads up on an assassination plot." Helena points out.

"From Goodman? Whom? The President?" He's done, and rises to rinse off his plate. Relaxed enough.

Helena looks like she wants to throw her plate at Alex. "From a source, about Goodman getting assassinated." Helena says, clenching her fork.

"And what are we doing to protect him?" Al wonders.

Helena snorts. "We can't even get to him. But Pinehearst can, which is why I gave Arthur the intel." Funny, how they're back at square one now.

Alexander persists, "And we're assuming they have Goodman's interests at heart because they want him to take down the Company?"

"That seemed to be the case that was presented." Helena says. "And we don't have the capability to infiltrate that deep. What exactly are you trying to advocate here?"

"I'm not advocating anything. Just making sure I understand the situation," He sticks his head in the fridge. There may be chocolate.

Helena is silent, eating her lasagna. Yeah, this is the part where Helena's biting her tongue.

What? He spent the last month thinking with something else entirely other than his brain. It's a little rusty. The brain. Not the else. "You wanna root beer?" He offers finally.

Helena points to her lemonade wordlessly and shakes her head. She's just not gonna say it!

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