Participants:
| Scene Title | In For A Penny, In For A Pound |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Lynette and Ben discuss plans to keep Gun Hill and those remaining within her as safe as possible. Also, bathroom tiles. |
| Date | September 18, 2010 |
The sound of hammering echos through the lower floor of the apartment building, floating down the long hall from the partially open door of one of the damaged apartments. Even though the day is still early, the Company's former assistant-director is already hard at work. Anyone coming and going for almost two weeks now would have heard the construction going on.
True to his word, Benjamin Ryans has made significant progress with the one apartment. The dry wall has been replaced in the most damaged parts of the apartment, the pipes and electrical fixed to the best of the older gentleman's ability. Currently, the old man is finishing up work in the living room. Crouched low, Ben's tall frame folded down to where he is kneeling on the hard wood floor, where he can best reach the floorboards and get them nailed into place.
His tired and worn blue jeans have seen better days, splattered with the eggshell white paint that the walls now are coated with, the smell of paint still fairly strong. His solid dark blue flannel shirt is tossed to one side, leaving him only in the white undershirt, which also displays some off white marks from the paint. As a nail is finished being pounded in, he reaches up to brush fingers through hair that is getting a bit longer then he likes — but doesn't dare go out to get it trimmed — before plucking another nail from the small group held in his lips.
Into all this, Lynette breezes in, with the forethought to have put on some work clothes. Which, for her, are still pretty nice, but what can you do? There's jeans, though! And a long-sleeved shirt. It is getting colder, after all.
"Mister Ryans?" She says as she knocks a single knuckle against the doorframe. "I hope I'm not interrupting." Stepping in, she takes a moment to glance around and she seems satisfied with the progress, too. "I was hoping we could chat for a moment."
The hammer pauses in mid-swing, the head coming up at the sound. It takes a moment for him to recognize her — mainly cause he was so withdrawn into his thoughts. Once it dawns on who I speaking to him, fingers pull the nails from between his lips. "Certainly." Ryans offers in that deep rumble, brows ticking up slightly with interest as to what she could possibly want.
"What can I do for you, Miss Rowan?" He might not look it, but the ex-Company man heralds from a much more chivalrous time. He rolls back to his feet and slowly straightens from the floor, giving his six foot and change frame a much needed stretch.
"Just a couple things. Your friend, is he settling in alright?" Lynette seems to be getting the more mundane things out of the way first. "There's been some… developments, as the… group leader, I figured I should speak to you personally about them," she adds, her gaze moving off the apartment and over to the man.
"First of all, this safehouse is still very much prepared to keep you all here and as safe as we can manage. But as it turns out… someone who used to be with us is now against us, I suppose, and it's very likely this safehouse is a bit more compromised than it was before. But. It doesn't change our arrangement. It just means… I'll be stepping up security a little more. But we're offering relocation to the less targeted people who live here. But at the same time, they can stay if they wish. I know your daughter's here, too, and I didn't want anyone to get the impression I'm kicking anyone out."
"Webb? He's okay, he was shot up and suffering from infection, but Delia's been dealing with that." There is a touch of pride in his tone when he mentions his daughters involvement in it all. Leaning down, he drops the hammer to the floor.
"Compromised we can deal with." Ryans assures as he straightens, giving a small nod in her direction. "Lately, I've been a little…" brows furrow as he looks for the right word "…worried about the security here. Mainly, due to one individual. Amadeus Deckard?" His brows twitch up a little as he watches for a reaction, to see if she recognizes the name. "Brought a girl right up to my door step, claiming she was my daughter." something in his tone says he's not completely convinced. "He had told her I was there, it could have been a trap."
It wasn't this time.
Hands move to rest on his hips as he gives the apartment a glance. "Any idea of what you wanted to do?" Clearly, meaning the security.
"She's very… headstrong, your daughter," Lynette says with a mild smile. "I'm sure Mister Webb's in good, dedicated hands." Ah yes, full of glowing praise for the daughter. She must have made an impression on the landlady.
"Ah yes, Amadeus. I'm… going to be taking care of him as well. He's not part of the Ferry, so the official story is that the building's been deemed too unsafe and the tenants have to get out. if it happens to come up. I didn't realize he was bringing people along with him, though." Lynette doesn't look happy about that, either. "I'm sorry it's been a problem for you. But I have spoken with someone I trust who works with security measures. He's drafting up some options and then we're going to get them implemented as soon as possible. It isn't my forte, but it is his. So. It won't be a problem for much longer."
There is a firm nod of his head in agreement with her words. "Good." He says softly, studying the young woman. "If your shutting it down to regular tenants, I might think on looking into figuring out that escape route." A glance goes to the side to the apartment. "After I get this one finished up, of course."
Hand tuck into his jeans as the ex-Company man's attention falls on Lynette again, eyes narrowing a little. "I hope you won't be too cross with me, Miss Rowen." His mouth hitches up on one side in a slightly sheepish look. "I've been stockpiling things, should the need arise for them. There is a woman, she is not Ferry, but she is a trusted associate. Tall and dark, goes by the name of Huruma. She's been bringing me things so that we're prepared."
"I am, yes. We're officially a high-risk safehouse. Myself and my co-operator, Toby, will both be staying on to keep the place going for your team and anyone else that might end up in a similar situation. But the non-Ferry residents will be ushered out. Too risky to keep people here who aren't in the know and can't be clued in." Lynette seems to hold up alright under scrutiny, although her hand rubs at the opposite arm a bit.
"Mister Ryans," she starts at his little confession, "we're all in this together. Your people, my people. Noah's vouched for you and I trust that you have your own people's best interest in mind, because any alternative is, frankly, a little too horrifying to think about at the moment. So, if you have someone from the outside who's willing to help, I'm going to trust that you've taken care not to bring someone risky. So. No, I'm not cross."
"Bennet and I go a ways back. I trust the man completely." Ryans assures her with a hint of a smile playing on his lips, hands held up, with palms towards her. "I have nothing but the best interests of those within these walls in mind.
"That said, Huruma is trusted." It's redundant, but he's just that confident in the dark woman. "You'll also find — and I am not so much bragging, as confident in my people — that you wouldn't ask for a better group to protect. We are all trained, from various combat backgrounds for most of us." He doesn't hide how sure is that Gun Hill would be well protected… well… for the most part. Horizon Armored fiends aside.
"Well, then she's welcome. And I'm sure we're all grateful for the help. Or will be." Lynette presses her lips together for a moment, but they curve into a smile as he goes on. "I'm glad to hear that. Hopefully we won't need to call on you all and your combat experience, but it's a comfort to know it's there, just in case." She doesn't seem too confident that they won't need it, truth be told. But still. Think positively!
There is a slow nod of Ryans head, amusement hinted at, but not expressed. He has about as much confidence in the situation as she does. There is a long moment that he studies her, before a glances is slanted down at what he was working on.
"I noticed you dressed to work." A brow shifts upwards and he glances at her out of the corner of his eye, "Care to help out? The extra hands would get the job done faster." His slight smile, widening just a little.
"Oh, so I did," Lynette says, her smile a little easier. "Usually, I prefer when men notice my dressing for going out, but in this case, I'll make an exception. I'm not marvel with the home improvements, but I've dabbled a bit here and there. My father owns a ranch, he used to make me to handy work around the place whenever I got in trouble. I was rebellious enough to end up with the basics firmly in hand. If you don't mind the company."
"Company is always welcome, Miss Rowan." His chuckles rumbles in the confines of the apartment, Ryans smile genuine. "Home improvement isn't really my thing either, however…" he motions to a a pair of books lain out on the floor, a sheepish glancing going her direction "…books do wonders. Books and practice."
Moving to where he can bend down and pluck one of the books off the floor, he says, "I've been delaying work on the tile work in the bathroom. It needs to be redone, thanks to a burst pipe from the freeze." Attention turning back to Lynette, brows lift high on his head, "Care to try and tackle that chore with me?"
"You will certainly get plenty of practice here, at least," Lynette says with a crooked smile. "Tile? Yeah, sure. I think we can handle that. I take it you don't know much about tile. Me neither. I think it promises to be an excellent learning experience." She certainly doesn't seem worried about the lack of knowledge. Perhaps the books are enough to waylay any misgivings.
"They often say, two minds are better then one." Ryans reminds her, book cradled in one hand, the other waiting to flip the page. He turns slightly and starts to move in the direction of the bathroom in questions and pauses.
Turning back a little, Ryans adds. "Since we will be working in close quarters, you can call me Benjamin… or Ben. Which ever works for you." There is that amusement again, before he turns back to the task at hand.