Laying The Grounds


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Scene Title Laying The Ground
Synopsis Abby approaches Hana in the GCT about laying the works for new identity.
Date December 2, 2010

Grand Central Terminal - Kitchen

It's been a little while since Hana spent any length of time in GCT; the trips to and from Pollepel are time-consuming. It might be smarter for her to stay there and deal with other business remotely, but inclination and habit both die hard: She doesn't often stay put.

Rather quieter than it used to be, the appropriated terminal has the advantage of being warmer than outside — by a lot. The lights in its improvised kitchen are dim from the simple expedient of only turning half on; powered, at the moment, not by generator but the stored charge in a bank of batteries. Against that steady backdrop flicker more tenuous shadows cast by a campstove, slowly and steadily heating a pot of water; the smoke it gives off imparts a distinctive taste to the air, but is too little by far to pose a hazard.

Leaning casually against the wall, Hana Gitelman doesn't pay the small copper-bottomed pot much attention; she won't miss when it starts to boil regardless, and that's all there is to watch for. With her hands tucked into the pockets of black jeans, shoulders still under the characteristic jacket, boots braced on the concrete floor, an onlooker might be impressed by the patience of her wait — or wonder just what the technopath is entertaining herself with, behind distant eyes.

Other onlookers might know that Hana has a lot of patience and if so inclined might even have enough to watch paint dry or grass grow. GCT was Abigail's eventual target as she makes the rounds, likely down here for the rest of the day and night too as she takes stock of what she came here to take stock of.

She also came to meet up with the Israeli in question with a request that may or may not be denied and a fair chunk of money if needed, to make it happen. Courtesy of Cardinal - And Abigail's pride. Inquiries made as to Hana's whereabouts all indicated the kitchen and that's where she shuffles into, hair absurdly short and eyes a shade of brown that are not hers. If you didn't know her before, you might be hard pressed to say that it's Beauchamp-Caliban - whichever last name you prefer - and if you do, it'll be usually a second glance. But she's there, in her jeans, layers, hoodie, subscribing to the Laudani method of dealing with the oncoming winter and disguising ones shape.

"Making tea?" Bright. Hopeful. Tea would be delightful, oh yes it would.

It's the voice that really gives Abby away, to her acquaintances. Though Hana does pick out the familiar profile, once she turns her full attention upon the younger woman. "Yes," Hana replies, a simple answer for the simple question. Straightening up from the wall, hands sliding from pockets to rest idly at her sides, she nods in the direction of the table, where a small box of assorted teas sit. Cups are not in immediate evidence, but Abby knows their usual hiding place.

"Pick out whatever you want." Her eyes slant towards the pot. "It'll be a couple minutes." Hana's regard returns to her companion, silently considering the bulky layers of Abby's clothes and what of her hair can be seen around it.

"Couple minutes is good, I'm not frozen" The pack was abandoned elsewhere in the maze, left to be stuffed in some room that she'll end up sleeping in. She slinks her way over to the table, pulling up a seat to plunk herself down into. She can't hide her slender fingers either, picking through the tea's, eschewing the english breakfasts, the mints, grabbing a chamomile and settling it out.

"I'm in need of some new ID. And besides you, I don't know how to go about getting a new one, or where to even go. Peter said to try and get the ID of a person who had died in the riots, try and find a face changer and go about life normally, but Robert wants me to run. So… I"m thinking of going along the network up into Canada and trying to settle there until Robert comes for me" Her fingers fiddle with the sealed bag in it's paper cover, looking over to the other woman. "I have money, if it needs to be physically bought. Folks have given me money, i"ve been collecting it and I have enough to get me started up north wherever it is that I end up going"

"Keep your money," is Hana's brusque and immediate reply. The tall Israeli walks past the table to pull two mismatched mugs out of their crate-turned-cupboard: a chipped white cup adorned with ducks, of all things, and a plain brown mug with broken handle. The white one is set down by Abby's chamomile; the same hand flicks out to snag a packet of tea at seeming random. Earl Grey, for those looking.

"You'll need it far more," she continues, pacing back over to her stretch of wall. Returning to that casual lean, obliquely facing Abby, Hana occupies her fingers with opening the foil-lined packet. "Canada's not too hard; we've sent enough that way. Wouldn't agree with Peter on the deceased identity," she remarks, half-musing. "You'll likely have enough of a time taking on any new identity, you don't want to fit into someone else's history. That kind of identity theft is damn good for going undercover, yes; but it takes either extensive matching or a fine actor in the recipient." And however much Abby has adapted in recent years, she's still compulsively honest.

A critical glance at the pot gauges it not quite there yet. "If you give me a couple days, I can pull a new skeleton identity together. It'll take a little longer to finagle hardcopies, but there's contacts between here and the border that can do the printing, so you don't have to wait on them if you want to leave sooner." Hana's shoulders twitch in what might be a shrug.

"I don't much like the idea of taking over someone else's's life much either truth be told, and having someone elses's face… I have it on authority from someone who's had it that… it can be a bit much" Mentally at least. She's clued in that Roberts face isn't his face and with his words, changing her face isn't all that appealing. "I'm horrible at telling a lie. There's just no going around it. Richard gave me money and that's really hard to take, he says he got it from robbing some criminals in Chinatown and therefore it negates the stigma by being use d

"I'm not in a hurry to get going. Two weeks, three weeks, longer. There's some things that I need to do for the ferry folk here before I take off to distant places. I'm out here to see what we have of the evo-flu vaccines and normal vaccines, and see what we need to get to make sure everyone's covered" She takes the duck cup - As if Hana'd drink from that, turning it around in her hands and tracing the yellow ducks on it.

She looks over, resting chin on her shoulder as she watches the other woman. "Any help, would be appreciated. I know you're busy and folks ask a lot of you and that you must hear so much and can't rightly turn it off. I would be very grateful because it's one thing that can be done to make sure that I'm safe and that I'm still alive when Robert can come for me"

Hana nods to Abby; bestirs herself again, this time plucking the pot from its little stove. She pauses to turn it off before bringing the container over to the table. "I do this often enough," the technopath points out. "I can get a shell together that we can supply basic docs for in a couple days. The registration card, you'll have to wait for until there's another batch to print; could take a couple weeks."

There's a momentary pause as she pours water into Abby's cup, then into the one claimed for her own. "That's a card without a record, mind you. I can insert a record, but I can't delete Abigail Beauchamp's entry without risks that I think are unwise to take. Two records on file is about as bad as having none, should anyone look; either way, it's a weakness."

Mugs filled, Hana sets the pan aside. "Fleshing out history, resume, things on the digital backtrail will take longer. But the immediate concern is ID, correct?"

Abigail tries to not stare, pushing her cup over to be filled, leaving it there after she plunks down her tea bag into the duck cup. "Shell will do me right off the bat. Deleting tehr egistry entry would be… would be… that wouldn't be good no. But I'll still need a registration card and just hope and pray that they don't have a need to compare that stuff with the origional registry. I'll surely and gladly wait longer for that. I've been lucky so far in not getting stopped, and it just means that I'll have to try my best to not get caught by anyone" She murmurs. "What about Canada? An american ID won't get me very far up there will it, or at least, not for too long right?"

Hana nods at Abby's reply, noting her agreement. "Six months or so," she supplies. "Canada considers American visitors visa-exempt. If you just want to camp out and wait a little bit for Robert, won't take much else." Rather than taking a seat at the table, Hana retreats to her lean against the wall, hands wrapped around the hot mug. "Also means you have four or five months basically 'free', before you have to come up with the next stage of game plan." Discounting myriad other considerations, of course; this discussion is purely on what that ID can enable.

In six months, a great deal can change. Everyone here knows that. Six months in the ferry network, figuring out what to do, can do the ID game once more if it turns out to be more than six months till it's safe to come back. "So a few weeks, maybe a little more, till everything's ready, a shell sooner. Just gotta keep my nose down and not attract any attention till then. I think I can do that. Just gotta make sure not to run into anyone else who will accidentally electrocute me" Which was how she fell into the GPS tracking bit in the first place.

"What's your suggestion? You're a smart woman, you've been doing this sort of living, far longer than I can think. What should I do? It's not like I've seen anyone come for the Condo or question Robert, if they wanted to get me, they could have gotten me at anytime on the eighth, I had the GPS on"

Hana pauses in the act of sipping at her tea, looking over the mug at Abby. "If they really want you, they will eventually track you down. If they kinda-sorta want you, they'll take any easy opportunity you give them — the objective then is to not give away any." Now she takes a drink.

"Advice? If you really want to disappear, figure out your old habits — and break as many of them as you can. Places you frequented — specific ones and general types. Your style of dress, hair, even cosmetics. Concealing is one way to go," she affirms, nodding towards Abby's current attire, "but it won't pass unnoticed everywhere, and seeming furtive can make the suspicious look harder at you rather than the reverse. If you can drop mannerisms, behaviors, accent — or adopt different ones — it'll go even farther to muddying the waters."

After a moment's consideration more, Hana shrugs slightly. "I can go on, as could Raith. But what you should do, ultimately depends on your purpose. If you just need to stay beneath notice for a while, then you have as good a plan as any."

"I sound like I swallowed marbles. Accent has always been a give away" And she's not sure that that is going to be something that she can just change. Talking southern. "I prefer talking to you than Raith. You didn't accept a contract to kill me, he did" Which might explain pretty much why she's approached one of the pretty unapproachable people known to the network as opposed to Raith who was more conveniently near.

"So, keep up with Teo's dressing styles, keep my hair the way it is, don't visit any places I visited before and like Robert said, don't speak more than 5 words and I'll have a really big chance of not getting picked up and shoved out" Shoved somewhere. But there's no guarantee. Life does not come with those, or an extended warrenty.

"I need a new name then"

"I don't take contracts," Hana remarks, which may not exactly be a virtue given that she has a propensity for lethality regardless. Contractors are less often subject to impulse. She takes a drink of tea, one dark eyebrow arching at Abby's remark. "You do," the technopath agrees. "Let me know when you've picked one out" isn't the most solicitous response possible, but it doesn't likely come as a surprise for all that.

Because names are personal things, and it'll be easier to remember to turn and look at someone when they call your new name as opposed to one someone else made out of the blue. "I'll send it to you, I'll think about it." Abigail lifts her own unadulterated tea to her lip, take a cautious sip. "I think, that that was all that I needed to ask you about. Unless you happen to know the count of H5N10 vaccines we have on hand, and normal flu vaccines"

Hana nods to Abby's reply, then tips her head slightly at the query. "Logistics aren't my field," she replies. "I believe the H5N10 vaccines in particular are very low, but I couldn't give you numbers." The older woman pauses to take another drink, then returns her attention to Abby. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"If I can think of something Hana, I'll leave a message for you. Thank you, for making the tea, unless.." She frowns for a moment. "Unless you know anyone who can help me learn to talk without a bunch of marbles in my mouth and more like a normal american. That'd probably go a great deal far in helping me lay low, especially up in Canada"

Hana says, "Not that can teach you in a reasonable timeframe," Hana replies, shaking her head. "Good luck," she offers, pushing away from the wall. That, and "You know how to reach me" serve her purposes in taking leave."

Just have to turn on a cell phone and send a message to the ether, that's all. "Take care Hana, Gob bless. Happy holidays too, I'll send you a name by tonight" The sooner the better, the sooner everything can get done. Abigail doesn't get up from her chair, taking the time to sip her tea, enjoy it without the noise of a million others in behind crowded walls.

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