Participants:
| Scene Title | It's Just A Haircut |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | …not a sexual innuendo, I swear! Ryans asks Megan's assistance in looking less like a hippy and end up discussing recent dreams. |
| Date | April 13, 2011 |
Bannerman's Castle: Megan's Room
This morning Benjamin Ryans came to a realization, as he stared into the pitted mirror propped in the bathroom in the castle.
He needed a hair cut.
Fingers tugged at the lock of his, lips pressing into a fine line, as he could hear his father's chiding words in his skull. 'Benny, you look like a damn hippy.' He hated being called Benny, but that's not hear nor there. All he knew is he agreed.
So a pair of scissors are clutched in his hand when he knocks on the door to Megan's room. Back of rough knuckles tap against the wood surface and when the door opens, Ryans gives her a touch of a lopside smile. He holds up the scissor's, brows ticking up in a question. "I'm hoping you can help me. I was going to try it myself," he looks at the scissors, "but I was worried it would look like a complete hack job and you did a good job with your own." Blue eyes going to the shortened red hair.
Megan answers the door wearing a scuffed pair of jeans and a pullover. Her hair is loose, and she grins at the sight of him — and at hte comment. "Actually, Abby evened it out for me," she admits. "Cutting your own hair's kind of a bad plan." She shrugs easily. "But sure, I can trim it if you like. C'mon in." She's got a chair that they can use.
There is a flicker of relief in the old man's eyes. "Thank you." Obviously, he doesn't seem too concerned about her ability to cut it. "I don't mind it a little long, but this is beyond my collar." Fingers touch the hair at the back of his neck. It's the military man in him that's grimacing at the length. "And the longer hair has a purpose. So I just really need it trimmed up." The longer hair mans him look more like a mountain man then a Company agent.
Stepping into the room, he presses the door closed. The sleeves of his dark gray henley are pushed up, before he settles into the chair she offers.
Megan takes the scissors he brought with him and rummages around for a towel to put around his shoulders. She's chuckling softly. "I'm shocked," she says. And then she elaborates. "That you lasted this long before it drove you nuts." She grins cheekily at him. Once he's all settled in the chair, she runs her hand through his hair to see what she can do with it. "You want to keep the Grizzly Adams look, just shorter?"
"Keeping busy does that," Ryans explains still sounding amused. His head dips down, chin tucking in, as she runs fingers through his darker brown hair. Hands rest flat on jean clad thighs, shoulders hunches a little. "How about we go for in the middle?" He leans back in the chair a little and angles a look up at her, maybe to check her reaction.
"I spent years so clean cut…" Fingers scratch briefly at the thin scruff at his jaw. "I can't imagine the scruffier look being a bad thing considering my status." Wanted that is.
Megan glances at him as he looks up, and she wrinkles her nose. "Eh… It looks all right on you," she admits. Then she nudges him back around, eyeing his hair. Then she pulls out the scissors and starts trimming efficiently. She's quiet for a long while and says, "These dreams that people are having…. what do you think of them?"
There is amusement at her reaction, but he doesn't tell her to cut it shorter. Fingers tap lightly on his knees as he sits patiently, listening to the sounds of the scissors. Though the question has him silent a little longer.
"I'm not completely sure," he admits quietly, voice gruff making the words seems louder then they are. "I has a vision June last year, but it didn't come true. Though I've heard others had theirs come true." Eyes focus on a part of the wall, narrowing slightly in his thoughts. "It may be nothing, but hard to ignore it when we shared a similar dream with Huruma."
The redhead nods slightly as she works. Locks of hair are falling to the towel and her hands in his hair are gentle. "Do you think she's already been exposed?" she asks quietly. "It can take years for the symptoms to show." Megan is… worried. That things Huruma has already done have doomed the woman. It makes her sad to consider it.
"I… don't know." It's admitted in a hushed tone, brows furrowing in probable concern. "It's possible. She's avoided…" Ben stops and sighs, "It's been about a years since the last person she ate." He doesn't know if Megan knows, but she was there in that dream.
"I was working for the Company still." Ryans sighs softly, eyes sliding shut as she works. "I'm hoping she hasn't been." Cause if there is a hope of avoiding it, then it means the cannibal going on a diet.
Some amount of relief… and disgust… passes through the nurse. "I… have to admit, I really didn't want to have to say those words out loud," Megan says ruefully. "It's good that it's been years… from all that I've heard of the dreams, it would make more sense that she would … fall off the wagon… if we were all going hungry." She runs her hand across his hair, checking the length. It's not short enough, so she goes back to start again, only taking a little at a time. Perhaps because the mundane movements soothe her as much as they seem to soothe the man whose hair she's trimming.
Ryans tends to feel a tad squeamish at the thought at well, but for the most part he's been around Huruma long enough. "I don't want you to have to say them." He doesn't want to be in that situation again. He doesn't deal with those sorts of emotions well, even if it wasn't the pure anguish of Mary's death… it still hurt.
"I can't help but think we were showing that, to keep her from falling off the wagon… so to speak." Benjamin takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His eyes cut over to the door, not moving his head but checking that it's shut before he says, "While I have you here…" His head tips up a little before he realizes what he's doing.
"The flu." He sounds completely serious as he talks, shoulders tightening a little as he tenses up. The subject is pretty serious. "Should she get the flu. Sedater her… forced coma maybe."
Megan's hands stop moving through his hair, the scissors aborting a cut because otherwise she'd have lopped off a big chunk. She ffts at him and puts his head back where she wants it. "I'm well aware of the dangers of a delirious ex-cannibal, Benjamin," she retorts in a tart tone. "If she comes in ill, I'll make sure she's kept safe." Because to her it's not just about keeping everyone else safe from Huruma while she's out of her head, it's about keeping Huruma from doing things she doesn't want to do either. "Relax," she murmurs, using her free hand to absently stroke through his hair once more. Checking the straightness of the cut. She moves to the side of him to take a bit more off. A little bit of style isn't bad.
"It's… more then that." he murmurs, though his shoulders seems to listen and relax. To the side like that she can see the worry that creases his brow. "Her ability keeps her from being a wild animal. When it's gone…" He starts to shake his head and stops himself.
He glances at her out of the corner of his eye watching her for a long moment as she works, even if he can't see her clearly. After a moment, his mouth tugs up at one corner. "Sorry, you're right. You are the one with the medical training. I'm just worried. About everyone and her." He focuses on the wall again as he adds gruffly, "About what I don't do that gets the Pastor killed."
Megan's hands pause again in their movements. "What do you mean by that?" she asks curiously. She doesnt' know what other people are dreaming.
When she stops, Ryans takes that opportunity to look at Megan fully. It's hard to read the older man's features, however, as he's fallen into that guarded look of neutrality. “I've had more then one dream.” He explains, lips press into a line, before he continues. “First was of a funeral. Sumter's.”
Ben looks away, fingers lacing together on his knees. “His – it had to be his daughter — was screaming about how he would still be there if we did our jobs…. A child putting blame somewhere, but I felt like I deserved it,” shoulders lift and and settle again with uncertainty, “whether it was my fault or not.”
Sympathy crosses the redhead's face, her blue eyes meeting his. "Considering what we've learned of this future that people are dreaming of, Ben…" She sighs heavily and offers the only comfort she can, a quick hug around the man's shoulders. Her hands stroke through the mass of wavy hair that she's been trimming, and she says softly, "I'm sorry. I can't tell you that it wasn't your fault, but… I can tell you that no matter what happened… it was a child's anger. Feeling responsible doesn't mean that you actually were, it just means that the situation was horrible and you wished it hadn't happened." She sighs. "I doubt Sumter is the only one we're going to lose."
The hug, however brief it is, genuinely catches the man off guard. It even shows just as briefly on Ryans' face. It's normally his job to give the comfort, not to receive it. Fingers touch her arm before it's gone, a silent thanks for the words of confidence.
When he looks at her again, there is a look of confusion as if he's only really seeing her for the first time. Studying her for just a moment, before there is a blink and it's gone. Benjamin shifts to looks ahead again so she can cut if she needs to. "I know and that scares me." Which is not an easy admission for him.
Megan tilts her head and quirks a brow at him, somewhat amused. "What? You think that because I keep to myself and don't run about here like a chicken with my head cut off that I can't be well aware of the entire situation?" she asks. "I'm not blind, Ben."
Hands come up, flat and palms in her direction, as if warding off her words. "I never said that." Amusement colors the tone of his voice as he glances at her again. A smile threatening to tug at the corner's of his mouth. "You are a smart and capable woman, I would dare never indicated otherwise."
The redhead rolls her eyes, and her hand comes out to nudge his head back around so she can finish what she's doing. "Don't be such a male," Meg retorts with a smile. "You gave me that look like 'wow. no clue that she had a clue' or something, that's all. I keep my ears open. And people tend to talk around me because I'm not always jumping into conversations." She shrugs a little. "They forget that I'm sitting there listening, so … I hear a lot. And in addition, I happen to know when to keep my mouth shut." She snips more hair around his ear, her eyes on her work. "I know from what people have mentioned that Bannerman seems to have withstood whatever's coming at us. Though I'm not clear if the site's been outed or just held firm."
Yeah… that's it. He was realizing she was clued in. We'll go with that. Not he's male and she's female and how the gray in her red hair looked really good on her. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and sits still again. Of course, he is feeling a touch silly for noticing like that and her noticing him noticing.
"There are some days I wonder how the hell we are going to manage to keep it that way." Ben admits grimly about the island. "But there is some comfort in knowing that we might actually succeed at it."
If it occurs to her that he looked at her like a girl, she might be a bit more flustered. It doesn't. Megan is somewhat oblivious to that side of things these days — although it's damn amusing to watch the 'kids' get all het up together. Maybe in part it's why she is oblivious; she feels pretty damn old these days. As she trims Ben's hair, Megan is careful to make it look at least passable. She moves around to the other side of him to make the side match, and as she continues the snipping of soft hair, she murmurs bleakly, "Do we?"
If it hadn't been for Lynette reminding the older man he was still alive, Ryans might have been just as oblivious. Though this now makes it a rather awkward situation for him.
"Hopefully," is the only answer he can give her in answer to her question. Brows are low, furrowed in thought. "It only takes the wrong person getting one of these dreams and then it will be game over." He sounds just a bleak as she does.
Megan clips the side, moving around to the front of him to check to be sure it's at least close to even. She's no hairdresser for sure, but eh… it's passable. Now she just needs to trim the front back a bit. "Oh, that's a cheery thought, isn't it?" the redhead snarks gently. "Right then, you know what? Think of something cheerful before I have to lop off your ear just so I have something to stitch back on, will you?"
The chuckle that comment that provokes from the co-head of special activities, rumbles softly. %r "It's not in my job description to think of cheery things," he points out with a bit of a smirk, the amusement actually making it all the way to his eyes.
"But rather then risk ending up like Van Gogh…" He looks thoughtful as he tries to think of something. "You seem to be gaining more and more personal time. The flu seems to be calming down some. Abby is on the mend and thanks Thatcher… Hannah's awake." Brows lift a little as if seeking her approval.
"Positive enough?" Ryans' smile widens a little more, seeming more at ease. "Or should I go into something a bit more personal and start complimenting on how you look in civilian clothing?"
That makes Megan inadvertantly snip a bit more than she intended to off the lock in her hands, startled by the comment. "Well, Jesus Christ," she snorts on a laugh. "That wasn't what I expected you to say!" She steps back just a little cuz cutting the front of someone's hair means you're looking down at their head and … well, kinda close. "You're lucky I didn't just scalp you," she observes, a faint blush coloring her cheekbones. "I think I can fix it, though." She clears her throat. "Uhm… thanks?"
The lines at the corners of his eyes deepen as he can't help but smile at the reaction. Touchign the lock to see how bad the damage is. "You're not clueless and I'm not dead," he chides her gently. It's the best way to describe it. "But you are welcome. Hair grows back, though… my ear… not so much."
Combing fingers through his hair, he watches her. "Feels better. Still long… but better. Passable." It's nice not to have hair in his eyes.
Megan's hands go back into his hair, and she checks to see the damage, avoiding his eyes. She finishes the last snipping she's going to do, correcting the crazy cut she just made, before speaking. "I'm … not dead either. Though I'm woefully out of practice at being sociable," she admits with a soft smile. She does tend to hide behind pragmatism and the distance that her calling and her job have taught her to put between her and those around her. "When everyone around you is a patient or a soldier likely to die…. you can keep arm's length between you, or… you can build relationships based on the adrenaline of the moment that turn out poorly." He knows. He's lived it. She clears her throat as she steps back just a little again, her own hands running lightly through the man's hair. "There. I think you're all set for a while." She proffers the scissors to him. "Now you don't look like a hippie anyway," she grins.
The fingers through his hair seems to have the effect of calming him, in a way. Relaxing and comforting. "Thank God for small miracles. Every time I looked in the mirror I could hear my father calling me a hippie." It's blandly delivered as he finally pushes to his feet and takes the offered scissors. He curls his hand around them and looks like he might say more, but… he stops himself and gives her a gentle smile.
"I won't keep you from your downtime, but I do appreciate the assistance." He means it too. Ben seems to be turning to practical things. Side stepping to make his way to the door. "I'm heading into the city tomorrow." He doesn't open the door, hand resting on the door knob. "If… you need me to grab anything from Grand Central's stores. Just get me a list before the boat leaves tomorrow?"
Megan tilts her head and then nods. "All right. I think the infirmary's mostly stocked up." And then she hesitates. "I was thinking about going back over… but I don't have anything left there except the gun safe that you guys may want the firearms out of. Let me know if we need them. After August died, I moved all his handguns into my place, and that and my account passbooks are about the only things I sent out of my apartment ahead of the evacuation."
The mention of August gives him pause. Had she even mentioned losing someone before? Brows slowly lower, hooding eyes in thought, Ben couldn't remember. "It…" He hesitates, cause what she's offering is something needed. That they belonged to someone she was close too… it mad him feel a touch uneasy as he said. "That might be helpful, since we are low on that sort of thing.
"Once we have a set plan, maybe we can hit the mainland and get those?" Benjamin adds after a tick, "If you are sure about that." There is some concern there, not knowing if she is just making the gesture out of impulse.
The redhead smiles faintly. "I'm sure," Megan replies easily. "The bloody Brit would bitch me into next week about keeping them locked up for a rainy day when we need them. This is a pretty rainy day. They're guns, Ben. It's not like I'm giving you his most prized possessions." She laughs at that thought suddenly. "If I gave you his cowboy hat, however, I would expect to get smited." There is affection, some small amount of regret to her tone. But whatever happened, it was long enough ago now that she can think of the man without more than a pang. Perhaps the same kind Ryans gets over his wife. "Let me know when you're going and I'll go with. So far as I know, no one's ever linked me to you guys. For all they know, I was killed the night of the riots." A lot of people are still missing, after all. Zombie hordes!
"Well, sometimes you find it's hard to let go of things, even if something like a gun… favorite pair of slippers. The car they drove daily." How long had Mary's set by neatly by her side of the bed or her car set in the garage? It seems silly now when you think about it, but back then…
Ryans turns rather stoic and stony faced as he finally opens the door. "I'll see you at dinner, I imagine. If not I'm sure we'll talk again." The small smile seems a touch self conscious, but the words honest. He knows he looks forward to the next time they talk.
"Thank you, Megan," he offers in a soft rumble, before slipping out the door and leaving her alone again.