It Happens


delia_icon.gif russo2_icon.gif

Scene Title It Happens
Synopsis Dirk flirts, Delia is a mouse, Lucille has tiger blood, and Brad is proud… it all happens
Date April 20, 2011

Studio K

"Well you know… since your upwardly mobile and I don't have to change your diaper or anything…" Dirks tone is oozing with sleeze as he leans back against his desk, talking to a redhead that is nearly a half a foot taller than he is. She's thin, which is a bonus in his books, can't be seen with a woman wider than he is, after all, it would take away man points or something.

Dirk's never been one for a lot of badonkadonk.

"What do you say we hit the town some night? You are legal, right? What am I saying, of course you're not. Otherwise you'd still be living with Russo, right?"

Delia's jaw just hangs open, her blue eyes wide and aghast with fear as she listens to the come on by the douche at the desk. Who is this guy anyway? "Uhm.. uh… N-no thank you? I.. uhm.." My brother has cannon hands, dick. "I mean, I'd love to, normally, but I think I'm busy.. You know… washing my hair or something?"

Problem with that excuse? Dirk didn't actually specify a date for the date. So whatever reason she comes up with is easily grinned away by the executive assistant and waved off with a flip of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Sweet Tits, call me when you get a registration card. We'll talk then." Until then, Dirk is satisfied with passing a leer down the legs of her skinny jeans, causing a deep blush to creep onto the redhead's cheeks.

Empty disposable Bean Me Up coffee cups line the expanse of Bradley Russo's office begging the question if the man will ever sleep again. Even more than that, when the door opens and Brad steps out he's grasping another— presumably full— cup. A bright grin has it heralding to his lips until his blue eyes catch Dirk's leer, somewhat unfortunate timing. Or fortunate in other cases. "Dirk. Can you -not- hit on my sister?" The question itself seems casual in tone, but the small raise of Brad's free hand should be enough of a threat, particularly when accompanied by Russo's most wicked grin, complete with an overconfident flash of teeth and narrowed grey blue eyes. "Just remember, she's not interested."

Giving Dirk a hard time counts as one of his more interesting hobbies; it comes easily. Brotherly sentiment does not. Clearing his throat, his head tilts at Delia, lips parting somewhat before a more awkward smile tugs at the corners of his mouth that fails seconds later. "Delia," he forces that curl of his lips while his eyes tick back to his office. "I… what…." the thought isn't uttered. Instead, the smallest motion of his head beckons her to follow him.

He turns on one heel, office-bound.

Delia shrinks visibly when Brad's hand is lifted, especially with the addition of the smile. The name, not nickname, that he greets her with doesn't do much to straighten her posture. Head bowed, like a beaten dog, she plods behind him with her hands in her pockets. "I'm registered, just like you wanted.." she offers meekly, a peace offering that isn't cold cheeseburgers left on his desk overnight. So there was one bite taken out of one of them, she was hungry.

"I'm uhm.. living in Eltingville now.." her quite conversation continues down the hall until they reach his office where she waits at the door, not certain whether to go in or not. "I'm trying to start a garden too, I bought roses… and some herbs." Maybe the host will soften at the word garden, her father might, they both have that stubborn streak they won't admit to.

"Please," his eyes trail to the interior of the office, "Come in." Brad's stilted formality becomes somewhat more awkward around Delia, but he presses a faint smile to his lips as he strolls towards his desk and turns around, leaning against the wood, and essentially allowing it to prop him up. "Registration was for you, not me… I wanted.." he starts while his eyes turn to the picture frame on his desk, prompting him to lay it face-down, "…a future for you.." there's a tightness in his smile while his arms cross over his chest.

His eyes narrow some at the word Eltingville, but the smile remains true to form. "Eltingville?" he repeats, like an old man who didn't hear the word the first time. "Why? I thought you were determined to get the f— " he bites his tongue while guilt tugs at his conscience as he lifts the frame again, allowing his mother to be present can only keep that tongue in check, right?

Gardening, cooking, and renovating are his weak spots. And Brad's posture visibly changes at the mention of the garden. His hands drop down to the desk, palms flattening against it while the tightness in his smile dissipates and his shoulders ease. Gardening is a topic he can easily glom onto; Delia could've only done better if she'd discussed French cooking.

"What kind of herbs? Rosemary?" There's a pause as a finger taps his chin, "Thyme? I'm a parsley fan. Particularly fresh. Although I admit I love the smell far more than the taste. Particularly in eggs—it has that," his tongue makes a clucking noise as if tasting something foul, "odd texture."

"Uhm.. I have basil, and oregano, and thyme, and.. uhm.. All the spaghetti ones, I wanted to learn how to make really good spaghetti like you do.

"Uhm.. I have basil, and oregano, and thyme, and.. uhm.. All the spaghetti ones really, I wanted to learn how to make really good spaghetti like you do." It's not French cooking but there's a rhyme to her herbish reason. The momentary excitement in the redhead dissapates after that one statement. Delia's lips, unlike Brad's aren't exactly cooperating with her and tend to betray the anguish that she's feeling. "B-but I'm not here for a recipe, not this time. M-maybe some other time if you're not.. still mad at me.. I could come over and you could teach me?"

She finds a seat and pulls one hand out of her pocket, playing with the clipping that's drawn out between her fingers before actually saying anything about it. "I— uhm.. I talked to Caid.. He uhm— He told me." Slowly, her eyes lift to Brad's and she gives him a very tiny sheepish smile.

The article is held out in her outstretched hand; the picture of Russo, with considerably less hair, and a boy flopping into the light. "I have this for you… Brian found it." Brian one of the only men that Russo seemed to trust that came around. "It's from a box with all this stuff… from 2040."

Oh. So this is going to be one of those conversations.

A hand rubs irritably at the back of Russo's neck as he reacts rather than thinks about the words and pictures. "Fucking time travellers." His head shakes while his hand presses tightly to his forehead, "Seriously. The past's the future, the future's the past, the moment you look at it, you change it just by having looked— " with a roll of his hand, circling nothing in the air several times over, he shakes his head irritably, "— it's all very… infuriating. Think about it. The impossibility of time travel makes me wonder if people from the future don't cause some epic crisis they came back to— " his head shakes again. "You know what, it makes no sense. Not even the possibility of it. Einstein postulated it was possible to move into the past, but that was through the way time— " his face scrunches together further while his head shakes. "Sorry. I. Sorry."

His hand extends in front of him in a stop motion although, in this case, he's actually aiming to take the picture. His nose wrinkles as a hand runs over his hair, "Well I guess some things just keep disappearing," like his hair. Lips pursing together somewhat, he sighs. "It's not that I don't -believe- what Caid said, it's… it's so impossible. That's what it is."

"It's not impossible, Brad, you and I went to Vietnam to rescue dad. If we hadn't gone back there neither one of us would have been born. So he had to survive so we could be born and go back to save him so we could be born." It's a big ol' time loop that's bound to cause the Advocate host a migraine but Delia's not discounting anything. Insistently, she edges forward in her chair and holds up the article again. "I think it's important, Brad, it's important to Caid at least."

After passing off the picture, she slides back and laces her fingers togethe, resting them on her lap. "I uhm.. In the same box there was something for me too. A rubbing of my daughter's gravestone… I uhm.. She was supposed to be born next year but, like Caid, I don't think she's going to happen."

"Your daughter…?" Brad's eyebrow quirks as his hands clasp at the desk again. With a heavy sigh, his head shakes slightly. "Quite the future we could've had, eh Carrots?" His other eyebrow joins the first, more emphatically now as his feet slide backwards. With another sigh he shakes his head, "Sure we went back, but there were efforts for us not to interrupt things, you know? I mean besides the Speed and the Speed-deal I don't think I really talked to anyone." The Speed deal. Not Russo's finest hour.

"Who was her father?" He asks with another arch of his brow. "Caid told me little of his mother. Aside from the fact we weren't happy together." His smile tightens into a small grimace. "He told me to just find happiness. Seems odd… I guess things must've been pretty bad."

"The dream I had— I couldn't tell who her father was, it wasn't N— " Taking a deep breath, Delia closes her eyes briefly to muster up the courage to finish. "— It wasn't Nick. He was with me, I'm pretty sure he bought her gravestone.. But she was Jaiden's, that's why I don't think she's going to be born." Raising her head, she glances into Brad's eyes and then lets it drop again shyly. "I didn't know who her father was, I thought it might be… uhm.. " That part she can't finish, not without fear of the cannon hands.

"But it was my son that told me she was Jaiden's, he came back with Caid and a few other people. My son's father is Nick." To get that off her shoulders, even if her brother doesn't approve, makes her smile a little, like she's pleased about the choice. "I uhm.. I don't know what happens to Jaiden… but Nick is the one that brouht me back to her grave. Our son showed me in a dream, he's sort of like me but a lot stronger."


And that's all Brad has to say about that. Twisting on the back of his heel Brad turns to face his desk rather than Delia. The safety of the objects on his desk wins. Aside from the random package of… cold cheeseburgers. Huh. He certainly hadn't noticed that before. His hands work their way through the packaging while his eyebrows knit together, "I think the mice got to this one," it's missing a bite. Maybe he shouldn't eat this.

WIth a heavy sigh, his head shakes. "Sort of like you but stronger?" The question is posed and left, not prodding further. "Caid didn't even know what I could do until I was on the show. Those negation pills— the prescription ones? Evidently they do more than just suppress abilities. Nasty side effects, evidently."

The bite of the cheeseburger gets a bit of a sheepish glance and a weak smile, evidently the mouse had a name and long red hair. Her eyes droop downward and she nods a little at Russo's repetition of her observation. "Yeah, he's so beautiful Brad, you should meet him. His name is Benji." There's a whistful sigh as she speaks the name, not Benjamin or Ben but Benji. Certainly not like the dog. "He's been helping people see what's going to happen, in memories of the future. They're like the warnings from last year before the riots."

In that regard, she glances to her brother and takes a deep breath. "You don't need negation pills Brad," Delia's emphatic statement is made with watery kitten eyes aimed directly at him. "You just need to learn, like my ability… I need to learn." So much. "There's so many people who could help you if you just took the chance. Dad could help find someone perfect, I mean— I can't ask him because.. I'm not allowed to talk to any of them anymore but… But…" A pause as she gathers her composure, wiping her eyes with one thumb. "You could call his cell phone."

Brad raises a hand. Back the truck up Delia. "Wait wait wait wait. You can't talk to any of who anymore?" His eyebrows arch expectantly. "You can't talk to your father anymore?" Those blue eyes narrow again while his jaw tightens. "My mind can't.. I can't… why? Why aren't you allowed to talk to anyone? It doesn't make sense." His head lolls to the side as his hands retreat into the pockets of his suit jacket. "I could call his cell phone, but… what happened?"

He actually frowns as he straightens some, moving away from his desk entirely— away from the watchful eye of Mamma Russo. "September would've seen it as a betrayal." There's a pause. "Maybe. Ironically my son" the word feels foreign on his lips, "volunteered to help me learn some better control. And maybe I'll be able to track someone down that can help." There's a noncommittal pause as he frowns, "Or I guess I could ask him. If I called." He clears his throat. "We haven't spoken aside from that one time in November." Months ago.

"Yeah…" Delia says quietly, "I live in Eltingville, it's too dangerous. It's too close to someone named Heller, dad told me to stay away. Remember the last time we talked? And the flu broke out on the island? It was soldiers that caused it all. The government was trying to kill us." She quiets and allows him to abosrb just a little of that information, eying her brother carefully while gripping the edge of her seat. She's prepared to run in case he loses control, that much is obvious.

"I don't really blame him though, he's just trying to keep everyone else safe." In regards to her father. "Jaiden's garage got raided… I think Caid is going to try to find Lu so she'll have a place to stay." In other words, their sister is now homeless.

"Heller," Brad repeats dully with a shake of his head, his hands balling into fists. There's a hotness that forms along them, but he takes notice. Deep breaths are inhaled and then exhaled, giving some sense of peace to unsteadied nerves. "You need to stay as far away from him as possible. He's a very very very dangerous man— killed a bunch of people like us in a garage for seemingly no reason." He frowns while his head shakes.

"What?" His eyes blink blankly back at Delia, "Lucille is homeless?" His eyebrows knit together while his head falls towards his shoulder. "H-how? I thought all of you Ryans types were all combatting the flu in your little enclave?"

Delia fidgets in her seat, nodding in agreement with Brad but she can't quite hide the alarm on her face when Brad divulges the little bit about Heller's penchant for seemingly random acts of violence. "I'm staying far away from as many people as possible. I'm just trying to help.." Though how at this juncture is well beyond her. There's a slight sag of her shoulders and a bow to her head, guilty.

"Lu was living with Jaiden, she doesn't like 'the little enclave'." Easily enough explained, though why their sister would choose a life on the streets rather than going back to their father is beyond her. "I would take her home with me but I can't get her in to Eltingville without her being registered and I'm not going to force her decision on that."

There's much to be confused about when it comes to the Ryans' clan— that much registers on Brad's face. His eyebrows knit together while his lips twist into a deep frown. With a small sigh, he asks the question, "Why doesn't she like the little enclave?" His nose wrinkles as he attempts to wrap his thoughts around everything. "I guess… she could probably stay at the Penthouse?" it's more a question than a real suggestion. "There's room. I just.. there's rules. So if she's interested you have to tell her the rules."

And now he needs to think up rules. "Uh. No overnight opposite sex individuals." There's a pause. "Or the same sex. If that's.. If she likes the ladies," he shrugs and then clarifies the rule further, "No one will have sex in my home other than me. If.. " his head shakes firmer, "No one will have sex in my home." Evidently he's included.

"Number two. Uh. She has to call me Brad. Not Bradley. Not bro. Not slick. Not… Lee— not that anyone has ever called me Lee.. not Russo.. Brad. Just plain old Brad."

Again his face creases with those deep thoughts, "Uhhhh. No loud parties…. there's other stuff too." That he hasn't thought of yet.

"She's sort of a free spirit, doesn't like to be caged in. I think it's the model blood… maybe it's made of Adonis DNA and tigers or something, I don't know." One shoulder is lifted and Delia looks away, trying not to smile, the subject is a serious one. She catches her lips between her teeth, another feeble attempt before she just shakes her head and raises her palms up on either side of her body. "Sorry, that was bad… It's just— You know… Hard to see her like that. I told her to go back to dad but…

"Lu's always been sort of independent. Not like me." Someone who tries but utterly fails at not needing people. She eyes the clipping for a moment, nodding to it before pointing. "Look at the back of it, there's an ad against illegal pregnancies. I'm scared, Brad, it's not getting better. What do we do?"

"Are you suggesting," there's a very pregnant pause as Russo leans in close and quiet, his voice turning downright serious, "Lucille has… tiger blood?" His eyebrows raise high on his forehead as a smile cracks across his lips. Evidently inappropriate joke-time is genetic. With a small stifled chuckle, he shakes his head.

The article turns over in Brad's hands as he eyes the article. His lips press together tightly while his head shakes, "The world becomes more complex if we let it. We just need to avoid the slippery slope. If we can." There's another twitch of his lips while his head shakes, "You know, I was sure they'd put me on those drugs a few weeks ago. Didn't happen. I was lucky.' There's a tug at one corner of his mouth, "Have you ever wondered what your luck will cost?"

"I already know what it costs," Delia says quietly, no longer in a joking mood. Instead her eyes are diverted to the floor as she studies the little pills of color in the carpet. Business carpet, the thin kind that's not very comfortable to lie down on, probably full of shoe stains too. Nothing like the plush fibers of a home carpet, the kind a child would lay on in front of the television during family movie night. "Luck costs freedom. If you want luck, you have to give up your freedom."

Blue eyes that match his own almost perfectly flick up to meet Brad's and she delivers a bitter smile with a trembling chin. "I should go, I need to be back before curfew and Staten Island's a long way away. Just… Brad… I'm sorry you had to give up everything for me and that it was wasted. I'll do my best to use the luck I've been given to make you proud, okay?"

There's a mournful smile at Delia's words. "Aww Carrots, that's not what I was saying at all." His throat clears while his eyes turn downwards, much like hers, but there's no study in them, not attention drawn to the detail of the officespace, but then, it's been hers for years.

"I was talking about my luck and whether it would run out any time soon." With a heavy sigh, he shakes his head. "Take care of yourself, Delia. Be wise enough not to trust the wolves like Heller, protect the sheep like Lucille, and to somehow, somewhere know the difference between the two. Sometimes the area's a lot greyer than most of us would want to believe." He sighs and pushes off the desk. "And don't worry about making me proud. In the long run if you just stay true to yourself inevitably it happens." Not will happen, but happens. He shrugs.

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