Participants:
| Scene Title | Known and Watched |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Two familiar faces cross paths, share information (if somewhat lopsidedly), and then agree to go their separate ways again. |
| Date | November 20, 2010 |
A Coffee Shop near One Police Plaza
Coffee shops, diners, and their cousins seem to have become something of a usual hangout for Kayla lately. Dressed in a dark blue sweater and black jeans, she sits at a windowside booth, gloved hands folded loosely around a half-full cup of coffee. The woman's gray eyes are turned out towards the street, upon the passing cars and fluttering pigeons, the people walking to and fro in pursuit of their respective lunches. The street itself is relatively bright, sun shining down from a sky only partly masked by clouds; if the city weren't still shrouded in smog and soot, it would be a beautiful day, albeit crisp and cool.
The blonde who enters the coffee shop is wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket, her hair loose. Elisabeth had a meeting in 1 Police Plaza — damn there are far too many meetings associated with this job — and by the end of it, she's wiped out. Stepping into the coffee shop, her focus is on finding a caffeine and sugar infusion to combat the exhaustion. Though it'll come in the form of a large hot tea with honey. As she turns to look over the place, her blue eyes skim over faces. She registers Kayla's, but it takes her a long minute to come back to it with a puzzled frown. Familiarity but not quite identifying. She moves to walk toward the table near the woman, trying to place her. "Hello," she greets quietly as she moves to sit at the next table over.
Kayla watches the woman walk in, but takes no apparent interest in her after that point; the shop's patrons are numerous, after all. She doesn't notice Elisabeth's scrutiny, her own attention still being directed outside — but as the blonde approaches, that changes. Kayla peels her hands off the mug and rubs wearily at her eyes, ending with fingertips pressed against her nose, thumbs angled back along her jaw, and elbows braced against the tabletop. The healer doesn't do more than crack one eye back open to glance sidelong at Elisabeth, but does manage the courtesy of a very brief "Hi."
It's that movement and terseness that brings home the identity of the woman. Blue eyes go wide suddenly and Elisabeth glances around the coffee shop, changing her seat immediately. As she slides into the chair across from Kayla, there's an instinctive attempt to shield them so they can talk in private. One that ends with …. nothing happening. Not a single thing. Elisabeth's still so burned that her ability doesn't even twitch, her brain making a tiny little halfhearted attempt before the muscle gives up. There's a faint grimace when she realizes what she just did, and Liz keeps her voice very low. "I'm sorry — off the top of my head, I can't remember your name," she murmurs in a voice sounding vaguely nasal with her head cold. "But I remember who you are — what you did for a friend of mine. You do know that employees of your previous company are on someone's shit list, right?"
Kayla twitches as Elisabeth outright joins her table, gray eyes opening to scowl around her fingers at the other woman. "Oh, I'm well aware," she replies abruptly, albeit in an equally quiet voice. Given the opportunity to look directly at Harrison, mutual recognition becomes clear — once upon a time, SCOUT was in all the newspapers. Not to mention certain private files. It doesn't ease the younger woman's defensive expression any. Her lips tighten as if on something Kayla opts at the very last minute not to say, and her hands drop to pick up the coffee cup. "Look, just —" She stops again, and averts her gaze, glancing back out to the street.
Elisabeth bites her lip, blue eyes both wary and concerned. "I'm sorry," she murmurs quietly. "I just… " She hesitates. "You helped Bolivar. If you need a place to go to ground… I may know some people. I just thought I'd warn you in case you didn't know," she finishes lamely. "Just… be careful." Cradling her tea, Elisabeth moves as if to stand back up, to leave Kayla alone as the other woman seems to want. But she pulls a card with her contact information from her pocket and slides it across the table.
Gray eyes flick to Liz and to the card, then back to the window; she doesn't make a move towards it. "Don't worry about me," she says, and if it's dismissive, it's not quite as brusque as Elisabeth remembers her being. There's a long moment of silence after, but not quite long enough for the blonde to slip away. "I can't," Kayla finally continues, and she doesn't mean worry: can't hide. Her gaze focuses on Liz once more, levelly intent. "It'd be pointless. Walk away. Walk away and tell anyone else you know on that list to keep away from me."
Tilting her head, Elisabeth looks at Kayla. "I'll pass it on. The isotope tracker?" she asks quietly. "Or something else?" She's willing to help the other woman … if she wants it. "Nothing I can do about the former…. but I'm willing to help if you want it. No strings."
Kayla eyes Liz for a long moment, expression guarded — but since Harrison obviously already knows about it, unbends slightly. "Db's scrambled," she replies succinctly, not knowing that the primary satellite is also destroyed. "Not that they don't have me on a new record anyway — but no," she concludes shaking her head. A beat of silence. "I'm known," the woman finally allows. "I'm known and I'm almost certainly watched. They have reasons. They'd love for me to do anything, hang around anyone, interesting." Kayla lifts her chin slightly. "And I won't." Which means go away.
Elisabeth smiles faintly. She gets the message. "Fair enough. Leave the card on the table, memorize the number so if you need it, you can use it." She moves to stand up, blue eyes shuttered. She opts not to mention that the satellite is gone — it may not make a huge difference anyway if they're watching the woman in person. "Good luck." She takes her tea with her, leaving the other woman to her thoughts.
She watches Liz go, taking her aches and pains and illness with her, the healer's posture only relaxing once those too are out of her perception. Glancing to the card, Kayla hmphs quietly, then proceeds to ignore it in favor of her coffee and the ever-changing, ever-the-same vista out the window.
When Kayla finally leaves the cafe, she helpfully collects the card along with other trash. But it doesn't get filed without the woman taking one long, close look at it first.
