Participants:
| Scene Title | Lasagna and Dead Dogs |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Abby intends to give Melissa a cooking lesson, but instead Sasha makes himself at home, and gives Melissa a present. It isn't an orchid. |
| Date | August 10, 2010 |
Cooking lesson time. Having switched to on call in preparation for her trip to Russia, learning Russian from various sources, helping get the infant at the lighthouse adjusted to her life there, the triage center set up for the impending raid on the hospital, the list goes on and on, Abby had summarily told Mel that there would be a cooking lesson. If she can teach the woman to cook one thing, perhaps her life will be complete.
Unlikely, but she had dragged the other blonde out to a grocery store, and were now back at the little green house with reusable bags in town, filled with the makings for lasagna. Denim pants that come to just below her knees and cuffed, sandals, layered tank tops, blonde hair back from her face and off her neck, the overcast day has been warm, but not overbearingly hot.
"You won't even have to soak the noodles, it's ridiculously easy Mel. Kendall will appreciate it" Bruising on her forehead leaves the stitches in her hairline still fresh and bruising yet to creep green on the edges. "You can even make a bunch of these, cook em, and put em in the freezer and just take em out"
"I'm telling you, I can't cook, Abby. I actually took some cooking classes, and it didn't work. The smell was…" Melissa shudders and shakes her head, but she's in the kitchen anyway, paying attention. She's still got bags under her eyes, and is in shorts and a tank top, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. As comfy as she can get.
"And Kendall just likes food, he doesn't care otherwise. And Faron cooks. Sometimes. I don't know if Ling does or not," she points out, shrugging and leaning against the counter.
The sound of bare feet slapping against hardwood probably isn't that uncommon in the Little Green House sometimes shoes come off indoors, and with the number of people living here, Melissa and Abigail could be ambushed at any time by someone hoping to score a taste of whatever it is the latter intends on preparing for supper tonight.
The only problem is that this someone doesn't live here, and he's already helped himself to the contents of Melissa's cupboards while the women were out grocery shopping. Sasha leans his shoulder into the kitchen's door frame, a small bowl of instant macaroni-and-cheese cupped in one hand, a spoon hanging lax from the fingers of the other.
Now would be a good time to draw their attention to him by reminding Melissa that she should probably lock her back door the next time she leaves the house, but instead he shovels another spoonful into his mouth, licks off the utensil's edge and decides to wait.
When Melissa hears the footsteps, she does what she always does. Glances over to see which of her roomies it is. But when it's not one of her roommates she grimaces and glances to Abby, before looking back to Sasha. "Okay, how did you find my house and what are you doing here?" She notices the mac'n cheese, then sighs. "And why have you been raiding my pantry? Don't tell me my mac'n cheese is the only food you've been able to find," she grumbles.
Grimace caught, Abigail's turning, glancing to see who it is that Mel has as an unexpected guest. Sasha was indeed, the last person she expected in the Mel's house and the startlement is clear. How'd he know she'd be here? Wait, Mel knew him? There's a sharp glance to the other woman, knuckles white while holding onto the bags. "Because he couldn't wait for lasagna. I take it you know Alexzander" Trying to say it with the proper inflection that his homeland would place on it. "At least he didn't kill your pets"
"Why would I kill her pets?" Sasha wants to know around the spoon, though it comes out more like Wha woo ah kee er paa? He's made himself at home, having removed his leather jacket elsewhere in the house and stripped out of his shirt, leaving him in jeans and a stained wifebeater so thoroughly soaked with sweat that it clings to his chest and abdomen, curly hair visible through the white cotton material. No answer as to what he's doing in Melissa's house, however, or why he gravitated toward a Kraft dinner.
Pet killing? That has Melissa's eyes narrowing and she lets a sharp whistle that has Jerry trotting in. He sniffs at Sasha, tail wagging a bit, but there's a Melissa, and there's food! Food comes before new people. Always. Melissa shrugs a little at Abby. "Sorta? I mean, I've only spoken to him twice before now, and once I sorta…passed out," she explains a little sheepishly.
Looking back to Sasha, her head tilts. "Well? Why are you here eating all my mac'n cheese? And how'd you even know I lived here?"
"What would Milenky say about your manners" Abigail's testing what's what the best way to make Sasha a) eat like a human and with manners and b) talk without the spoon in his mouth. "And you didn't see fit to tell me he was alive Mel? I had to learn it from Magnes" She's still skittish near the Russian, but pretty sure in her mind that he's not about to lash out or do something untoward, she's easing past him in the kitchen with the bags.
'And are you in need of clean clothing? Because if so, I can see about getting you some. Ferry's got clothing supplies or I can go out to the walmart and see about getting you some less… soiled clothing" He's as bad as Deckard and she, she is slightly warm.
Sasha wrinkles his nose at Abigail as she passes but does not so much as twitch any of the muscles below his neck until she's a safe distance away and less likely to be startled when he removes the spoon from his mouth, sticks it back into the bowl with a wet sound and uses the back of his hand to scrub some of the cheese sauce from his beard. When she asks if he needs clothing, he chances a glance down at his feet as if to make sure that yes he's still wearing pants and no he's not drunk enough to have taken them off. More likely, he's looking for stains he might have missed when he pulled them on this morning (last night? last week?) but apart from a tear below his left knee that he earned scaling a fence at Howland Hook he notices nothing out of the ordinary.
"I was hungry," he tells Melissa, "and you are easy to follow."
How did Magnes know?" Melissa says, blinking. "And I would've told you, but the way you kept reacting…You wouldn't answer any of my questions about him, so I didn't know if I should or not." She looks back to Sasha then, her head tilting. "I think Tony's got some clothes that'll fit you. And Jesus. Finish the mac'n cheese and you can have some of what Abby's gonna try to teach me to cook." Arms fold over her chest. "And I'm not that easy to follow, but that doesn't answer the question of why you're here. I mean, you're welcome and all, but usually I like to say that before the invite is taken up."
'Magnes is taking lessons from Sasha, regarding fighting without using his ability. They have a pre-standing date and yes, you are that easy to follow if your name is Sasha Kozlow. I told you, he was Skoll, one of Kazimir's… assassins. Never underestimate what he can do. He destroyed an apartment in Russia. I still have marks on my laptop from where he and his.. team.. did something in there"
She's not so warm as her phone will start bleating, he's just got her set on edge. "I'll drop some clothes off with Magnes, so when he catches up with you, you don't look like you used your sweater to wash yourself and then just put it back on" Pursed lips, twitch of her nose. "You get my message?"
Sasha knits his brows, appearing genuinely perplexed. Maybe he wasn't expecting that Melissa wouldn't accept I was hungry as an excuse, or maybe he's having a hard time coming up with a better one. Either way, he moves deeper into the kitchen after he's scraped the last of the food out of his bowl and places it down next to the sink, which is more effort than he'd normally put into cleaning up. The milk and butter are still out. "I brought you a present," he decides. "I will be very hurt if you do not like it."
Abigail receives an apologetic look. "I did not bring you a present, but. Da. I did receive."
"I didn't remember," Melissa murmurs. "And seriously, I have some clothes. I'll just steal an outfit or two of Tony's." She seems to soften slightly towards Sasha when he makes an effort to clean, since, well, neat freak. Then she just looks surprised. "A present? It's not the drawing of that dead dog is it?" she asks, sounding suspicious.
"You drew a dead dog?" He drew a dead dog. "Mel gets dead dogs and I get Russian love notes and orchids" There's a slight role and she keeps her distance from the Russian when he drops off his bowl to be washed later, pulling this and that out of the bags. "That's okay, you've given me enough presents in the past. I still have frostbite I swear, from Russia. Give Mel her present"
Initially, the only response Sasha offers either woman is an upward hook of his mouth that shows some teeth, no real humour in it. "I already have."
"Russian love notes and orchids? Why don't I get love notes and orchids?" Melissa pauses a beat. "Though for the record, I prefer lilies," she muses. Then her train of thought, whatever it is, has her sighing and looking a bit deflated. Then she gives Sasha a curious look. "What? You said you brought me a present, but you haven't given me anything," she says, sounding confused.
"Because Mel, he wasn't stalking you and your co-workers. I still have it, it's…" There's a pause, can of dice tomatoes in hand. "No, it burned." She has to think sometimes of what burned and what didn't. "I had to have Teo tell me what it said. It was…" She's drawing on memory now, can put down and scratching at her hairline carefully. "The beauty of your glowing body beckons me to touch, to touch? Yes, to touch, to taste, to love its graceful expanse from your forehead to toes, fingers to nose. How I hunger to know you so completely." Abigail looks at Mel. "And then my bartender got killed. But it wasn't him, his boss, Sasha here, he just burned down my home" Guilt trip. Unlikely to work.
Sasha is, admittedly, surprised to hear that Abigail kept the note, a fact that is reflected in the shape of his brows and the way his mouth flattens out again. That she memorized its contents has his body language closing up. "I did not intend to leave a message," he says, "but given the opportunity, I chose not to pass. It was meant to frighten you."
"I wasn't…" Then Melissa stops and shrugs, rejecting the rest of what she was going to say. Instead she asks, "Can you get the food started? I'm going to go find Sasha some clothes. And hopefully when I get back, he'll tell me what this present is, because I'm curious now. I never gets presents. I'm always the one giving them."
"I give you presents" Abigail protests quietly, frowning at the thought of Mel only giving, never getting. She turns though, a sideways look to Sasha and nod to Mel. "I'll make you enough to last for a while" She promises, the blonde setting about to unpacking the rest then loosing for the necessary bowls and pans, everything she needs to help Mel get lasagna set up and in the freezer.
When Melissa leaves the kitchen, she leaves Sasha and Abigail alone. He watches her make the preparations in silence until the other woman's footsteps have faded away and the only method he has to track her movements is listening to the creak of the floorboards above his head. "I will teach you," he says finally, "like I teach Magnes. Why do you desire to learn?"
"I don't want to learn to fight. I already have someone who's teaching me that Sasha." Ground beef is dumped into a pan, a myriad of herbs and seasonings dumped and heat turned up. "I need to learn Russian, as much of it as possible and fast as possible. I have an older gentleman teaching me, and Francois is jibbering at me at home, but I need someone who will teach me the not so polite words, and the slang. I can pay you thirty dollars an hour and meet you where you like"
She looks over at him, scratching at her hairline again, thumbnail skimming close to the black thread then back away. "I'm heading back to your homeland again. I don't want to be a complete idiot like I was last time" When she'd sat in his doctor's office oblivious to what he really was, and blushing red while he had made Cat speak English. "I also want to know, if you are intent on trying to do good, because if so, I have something you can help with"
Good is such a subjective term. "I am intent on doing what makes the most money," Sasha reminds Abigail, which is only partly true. The amount of money he's making working with Messiah is equal to zero, but his life — and presumably Tania's as well — isn't something that he can attach a price to. "Or what keeps me occupied. What is the something?"
Melissa returns with a pair of jeans and a teeshirt…and a frown on her face. "Sasha…why'd you go in my bedroom?" she asks as she heads towards the pair, offering the man the clothes. Then she remembers her role as hostess, since he's technically a guest, just an uninvited one, and asks, "And you want something to drink? Beer, soda? Abby?"
"Something is going to happen here on the island and people are going to be hurt. Bad. The Ferry will be setting up a triage center, and needing all the hands they can get, especially ones that know what they are doing. I don't know if you were really a doctor, but you must have been something, to have lasted in that clinic. I can pay you as well, if that's what it will take and you won't be asked to use your gift, but I and Megan, would feel a lot more better about things if we have someone with experience there along with others who do too"
Mel returns and it's no surprise that he's gone wandering the house. "Nope, I'm good, I had my swamp sludge before I picked you up" In the tiny civic outside that if she'd been driving would surely have killed her. Beef sizzles, lasagna noodles are set out and pasta sauce from a jar ladled out into the five different loaf tins. "You hurt her Sasha, I will not hesitate to make myself turn into fire and do to you what I did to Dreyfus, do you understand?" Lifting her eyes to catch his and make sure that he knows, she's not fooling about it.
"Generally," says Sasha, "it is a bad idea to ask someone for help and also threaten them all in the same breath." He takes the clothes from Melissa, rubbing the material between his fingers to test the feel of it against his skin. "If you are referring to the assault on the Institute facility where your Ferrymen are being held, then we are already involved."
We?
"He's good," Melissa tells Abby. "I got shot a few weeks ago. He took the bullet out and sewed me up." Though she gives no details. Then she pauses and cocks her head, glancing between the two. "Abby…I don't think he'll hurt me." How'd the paranoid one get so naive? "He helped me. And, well…Fuck." Maybe this will prove that Mel doesn't expect Sasha to hurt her. She turns towards him, head tilting. "Sasha? You got a place to stay? With food and clothes and a bath and all that?" Did she just imply that he needed a bath?
And now she knows how Melissa knows Kozlow. Or she can take a big fat guess. Blue eyes slant to Mel, back to Kozlow then nods. No surprise in that they picked him up. Messiah. "Generally, but with you…" A light shrug of shoulders. "Mel, you shouldn't pet the wolves no?" The corner of her mouth goes up in a somewhat smile, recalling the words used in his rat ridden hovel with the prostitute who cleaned out his wallet. "Isn't that what you said last time Sasha?"
She won't tell Mel what to do or how to run her life. Sasha's sent her scurrying to other rooms easily enough and into more than one panic. She's still running warm in the same room as him, a testament enough that she finds him more dangerous than Gabriel or any other killer she knows. "Don't worry about helping me then. You have enough on your plate" And it becomes her time to fall silent while Mel inquires as to living arrangements.
Sasha would be hard-pressed to compete with Gabriel Gray. He can't melt into ink, contort her body into vulnerable positions with a flick of his fingers, blow her through a plaster wall — or any one of the other tricks that the Midtown Man performs on a regular basis. It's probably why he gives the other man a wide berth. He recognizes a larger, more powerful predator when he sees one.
"I stay at the Hook," he says. "It is good enough." Melissa's suggestion hasn't escaped his notice, either, and it's with grudging reluctance that he drapes the clothes over his arm and steers himself out of the room. He'll take that bath now, before the food is ready.
"There's room here though, if you want it. And you won't have to sneak into people's houses for food," Melissa calls after Sasha, before she moves over to the table and flops down onto a chair, sighing. "I pet the wolves every day, Abby. What's one more?" she asks, sounding tired. "I don't even feel the bites anymore. And I was right. The present was the picture of the dead dog."
"It's a present." She's not impressed. Dead dogs on walls? "I'd say lock your door, but he'd get through that without even breathing" She doesn't like it. She's known for giving succor to nearly everyone, and she's not offering to him. Nary a look for what Sasha trots off to bath. "Listen, I'm gonna show you have to assemble this all, and you can set the oven and then I'm gonna head on home. I don't wanna incinerate your home and my heads hurting something fierce" The latter not really true, but she's realizing herself, just how much of a bad idea it was to inquire about learning Russian from Sasha. "Twenty minutes, in the oven, it'll be done"
Layers of meat and cheese, noodles, sauce, over and over, all four of the loaf pans and put into the oven.
When Abby mentions incinerating her house, Melissa gets up, grabs a ziplock back, fills it with ice, and moves over to Abby to rest the bag on the back of her neck. "Thanks Abby," she says quietly. "And you're right, it is. And believe it or not, despite what he drew, I like it, because it is a present." Which just goes to show how deprived her life has been in certain ways, that she can be happy about a dead dog picture. "I can handle the lasagna now. You go on home," she says gently.
"It's a dead dog. Is that what he thinks of you? That it's okay to give you a dead dog drawing?" The bag of ice taken, held to the back of her neck for what little good it might actually do. "He does anything Mel, Anything, you do not hesitate to drop him in pain and keep it up and run like hell, do you understand me?"
It's not that she doesn't trust Sasha. It's that she knows what he's done and what he's capable of. One time not attacking her when she was alone, does not a trusthworthy man make. "I don't like it Mel, but.. you're not me" Abigail glances around, making sure that everything is something Mel can deal with before wrapping her free hand around Mel and hugging her. "I'm going"
Melissa smiles as she returns the hug. "I will, I promise. And I think the dog was because last time I ran into him he was drawing that picture and…sorta gave him hell about it. But I'll be safe, and you do the same! I'll see you soon."
"Oh, like that's not creepy enough" Abigail mutters, gathering her grocery bags up, disappearing off towards the front door where not long after, the sound of the red civic can be heard taking off, leaving Mel alone with creepy mc redhead.
Melissa can't help but laugh a little. "Okay, so it is creepy, but still." Then she lets Abby go and sits back down, zoning out a little while she waits for either the oven to ding or Sasha to return.