Participants:
| Scene Title | It Never Is |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Prophecies are never simple, nor their intended purposes; Adam finally inquires as to how much Huruma knows about Emile Danko. |
| Date | March 14, 2010 |
People may find a way and a reason to go outside, even in this type of weather. It helps if you happen to have access to a powerful vehicle, though at least once on the way over there was a four-by-four stuck ass-end in a snowbank. With the evening comes colder temperatures and freezing water over much of that which is not layered in white snow. Huruma realized a long time ago that this spring was going to be strange- and quite possibly not spring at all. It seems her hunches have extended this far, however the northeast has had trouble like this few instances before this one.
The restaurant she and Adam have ended up at is mid-sized, though it contains quite a bit of class for one of the smaller establishments. Stone walls, classically white tablecloths on hardwood tables, and a fireplace near their table in the farther corner that shimmers orange off of painstakingly crystal clear glass. No occasion that is clear to Huruma, but to ask questions instead of tagging along is one of those things that she does not need to do too often. They answer themselves after a time. Regardless, she has made a conscious effort to look rather fetching, if subdued for her nature, wearing hints of gold and a simple, dark crimson dress that cuts at her knees.
Adam has been mellow and subdued for several weeks now, including tonight. He appears as if he's been turning something over in his head as if trying to get a hold of something. Tonight, he appears to have been ready to put thoughtful actions into words and says, "So." he pauses, "What do you know of that Danko fellow?" he questions, "You know, the one that Phoenix or Pariah or Ferrymen or whoever they're calling themselves these days captured?"
If Huruma hadn't had her glass her lips, she may have literally bitten her tongue. Not out of the metaphor, but honest to goodness interest mixed with surprise. But she does have a glass- and she is able to hide the tightening of her lips behind the crystal. She would be a fool to not notice Adam's mellowness for the last long while, but when he is good and ready to tell her something …he does. Huruma does not have to worry about it, for the most part, as he can judge for himself what to say and what to not say. Adam didn't get to be four-hundred years old by acting less than. The immortality helps too.
"Emile Danko? Captured, released, sent to Madagascar, th'Antarctic- he received a pardon, of sorts." Huruma starts at a murmur, and it falls into a comfortable purr in volume. Her eyes cast over Adam a moment longer, lingering in preparation to gauge him. He's probably familiar with the look by now, so he will possibly sense something coming. "I'ave known him for a very long time. I know …quite a lot about him."
Adam quietly takes in the information. He taps a fork against the surface of the table and hmms, "Do you know where he is now?" he questions. "The thing is…I got one of those enigmatic prophecies, yeah? Now, most of the time, I ignore that bollocks, but the truth is, I'm not doing anything of note now that I couldn't do while I'm fulfilling this prophecy. Blood is blood, yeah?" he shrugs, "So, I'm supposed to keep him alive…for some reason."
Huruma perches her jaw on the backs of her fingers, elbow perched on the rim of the table as she listens. Her lips curl into a small, pleased smile, her other hand fingering the stem of her glass. One finger taps onto it, ticking a couple of times. "Keep him alive? He will simply love that." Sarcasm is thick like molasses. It may or may not imply that it is a love-hate deal. Up to how Adam deciphers it. "He has a lot of little creatures after him. I do no'know where he is living …but I'ave come into contact wit'him recently." What Huruma doesn't say is that if she wanted to- she probably would be able to sniff him out. Danko likes to think he isn't predictable, but at the core humans are creatures of habit.
Adam shrugs one shoulder thoughtfully as if he wasn't sure if he cares all that much. How much effort he puts into a prophecy he doesn't understand is probably not much. He leans back a bit, "On the other hand, he probably doesn't know who I am. I haven't had any issue with him. I suppose…" he says, "I could just kill the people chasing him. That might be one way to handle the situation. Hunters rarely look behind them."
"You may'ave a difficult time finding a place t'put those bodies." Huruma admits, lips pursing in thought and eyes glancing over her surroundings out of habit. Her personal sixth sense is turned out, so the looking is primarily to show that she is not invested either way as of yet. "There is always th'option of introducing oneself. Tha'sounds terribly normal, I know."
"Sometimes, what may work best is not necessarily th'most complex route." Simplicity can work too, if you do it right.
Adam considers, "I suppose that's possible, but then I would have to find him." he tilts his head lightly, "That's always the difficult part. If only such matters didn't require such…effort." he waves a hand in a laissez faire manner, "I wonder where such a man would hole himself up."
"Midtown, per'aps near it." Huruma's answer comes disturbingly quick. "He is too proud t'live normally, too proud t'live with criminals on Staten…" Not that there is a whole deal left on that island these days. "He tends t'prowl where he has caused trouble as well. Th'othe'day I found him lying in wait at th'church ruins in Greenwich. If I set on it, I could find him again, I am sure. This prophet left you nothing else, besides instructions t'keep'im alive?"
Adam shrugs again, "Well, nothing other than the usual. Something about life depending on his survival, things like that." he looks thoughtful, "Not really how, or why or how long. Just that it was, in some way, important that he be kept alive." he glances upwards a moment, "They always have to be mysterious. I don't know why they can't ever speak in plain english. Is the language that difficult?"
"Idiots learn it. It only serves tha'prophets figure it out. I much prefer th'ones tha'paint, m'self. More explicit t'purpose." Huruma lifts her brows a moment, considering her answer still. "My curiosity has stirred in this one, however. Of all players, Emile?" There is a hint of a scoff, but it quirks sidelong into a calm smile. "Should I work on finding him t'meet you? Or jus'do what he hates most an'follow'im around?"
Adam purses his lips and finally says, "I suppose out of any possible action, just starting with the following around will work. You could tell me what it is he does and who else might be following him. Perhaps that might even give us a better idea of why it is he's supposed to be so important."
"I have no idea as of now, so it will do good t'serve m'appetite." Huruma does have a couple guesses, but they are not much. Perhaps he has to be left alive to kill someone. That is really the only thing that sounds especially like Danko- he does not fit much else except as an accidental gamechanger. For now. "I know him, but he also knows me. If he should stop me t'ask why I'm bothering him, d'you want me t'lie or tell him th'truth?" Either is fine to her, but it may vary with Danko as the recipient.
Adam considers that, "I suppose we should keep it as mysterious as possible. If I should have to approach him, we wouldn't want him predisposed to be hateful, do we?" he shrugs, "I'm just curious why he'd be so important. He's so short and bald. Hardly seems like someone for whom it matters if he lives or dies."
Huruma laughs smoothly at that. Moreso at Adam's curt description, but it matters little. "Th'only thing that I can figure is tha'maybe he is t'kill someone that needs t'die. Nothing else sounds like his modus operandi." She voices her inner monologue for an answer. "Emile is always predisposed t'be hateful. He is like a bush of burrs, always digging in spines first."
Adam shrugs, "If it was just a matter of killing, Emile Danko wouldn't be necessary, would he? There's no shortage of killers here." whether he just means New York or this restaurant is unclear, "I doubt it's something that simple."
Huruma nods once, lips pulling back to show a sliver of white smile. Her eyes roam freely towards the orange glow of the fireplace. "It never is."