Participants:
| Scene Title | Leave-Taking |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | It's never easy, especially when the team is going in several different directions this time. |
| Date | October 22, 2011 |
Skinny Brickfront : Endgame Safehouse
The kitchen.
Another day, another round of preparation and going over plans and over plans and over plans. But right now, Graeme sits at the table near the kitchen area. There's the scent of fresh coffee brewed, of which the former teacher has a cup, and he's… writing (a letter? or possibly more than one, if the other sheets of loose leaf paper next to him are any indication), one earbud in with music and the other one out to let him pay attention to the surroundings. He's also technically on watch, but he can do both.
Going over plans, and going over plans, and… the monotony of it all is not unfamiliar to Devon. He's been doing the very same for the last several days. Suffice to say, it's kept him busy, which lends well to keeping him out of trouble. And these days, there's plenty of trouble to find oneself in even accidentally. So much that even though his presence is noticeable within the warehouse, he hasn't exactly been readily available. But, as with all things, sometimes one needs a break from all the preparations and triple checking of supplies and going over lists.
That need for a break is what's drawn the boy out of his room and into the kitchen. He pauses, just within the doorway, to watch Graeme and allow a second or two for his appearance to noted. Then he steps into the room with a typically vague, "Hey, Graeme," as he passes the table to rummage through the fridge and poke into cabinets.
"Hey Dev," Graeme says. The greeting carries warmth, and a hint of a smile, and for the moment the pen is put down and the paper is turned over, and Graeme nudges the messenger bag under the table so that it doesn't pose a trip hazard for anyone. The smile, however, fades, with the somber mood that the safehouse has carried these days, and Graeme pauses his music, puts it aside. A brief silence passes, and then he asks, "How're you holding up?"
Everyone asks him that question, and another time Devon might have shrugged and given some noncommittal answer. This time, though he tosses a look at Graeme and shakes his head. "I'm leaving in a few days, taking a road trip while everyone else rides off to save the world." That's one way to look at it, the way he's looked at it in spite of understanding his part in taking a road trip. He sighs and pulls a bottled water out of the fridge and a box of crackers from a cupboard.
"To be fair," the boy goes on as he sits at the table across from the older man. "I know I made the right choice. Doesn't make it any easier to leave."
There's a nod. "In two separate directions, at that," Graeme says, pauses — "Three separate directions, but. We'll make it through this, you know." He picks up his coffee, takes a long sip. "How long's the trip going to be?" He doesn't ask where Devon's going, and has deliberately kept himself out of the loop on that. "You got things pretty much set for it?"
"As long as it takes." Devon answers as he opens the box of crackers and drags several out with a hand. "Don't really know. Plan is to regroup after." After, which is pretty ambiguous, leading to no real answer at all. The box is offered to Graeme. "I'm… nearly packed. Jaiden's helped with that, telling me what to bring and stuff. I'll be ready to leave in a couple of days, like I planned."
Graeme nods, and furrows his brows for a moment. "Hold on," he says after grabbing a few of the crackers, unceremoniously standing up and walking up the stairs over to 'his' room, the one that he's been using since he fully moved into the safehouse. The one in which Odin now sleeps on an oversize pillow and blanket serving as a dog bed. And then a bit later he comes back, holding a white security envelope in his hands. The same as the ones that the former teacher handed off to various Endgame members all spring and all summer for purchase of supplies. Except this one looks a little thicker, and it is set on the table and slid over towards Devon. "Just in case," Graeme says. "It might take some time, to regroup." There are worse possibilities for 'just in case' and they both know it. But for now those aren't said out loud.
After a couple of crackers, Devon opens the bottle of water he'd grabbed. His gaze follows Graeme out of the room, but his attention turns to a couple of swallows of water and some more of those crackers. When the ex-teacher returns and slides an envelope toward him, his brows go up and a questioning look is directed to the older man.
He shakes his head as he lifts the envelope and opens it, then shakes his head again as it's set on the table again. "Thank you," he says after spending a moment trying to find better words. "This… This'll… Thank you, Graeme."
There's a nod as Graeme sits back down, fidgets with the pen that he was writing with, picks up another cracker and fidgets with it. "When this is all over," he says, quietly, "use anything that's left for yourself, okay? A new computer, or, whatever. To move… forward."
A faint line crosses Devon's brow as a frown tries to work its way into his expression. He gives his head another shake and looks at the envelope again. "You're talking like you don't plan on coming back. Like… like you're expecting to not make it or whatever. You can't think like that. You can't…" The boy pauses, groping for words that sound neither childish or heroic. Something inspirational without being overly optimistic. "Just… take care of yourself."
Graeme furrows his brows a moment, and shakes his head. "I'm planning to come back," he says. Although it's said with confidence, it still doesn't manage to sound particularly reassuring. "That said, we're up against a lot. And I…" He sighs. "I want to try and make sure everyone else makes it out, too. At least the half I'm going on." He pauses, continues. "If I focus enough on that I won't tear myself apart with worry about everyone going to Alaska without me. Sometimes," he says, "I almost wish I could be in two places at once."
"Me too," Devon admits softly. He taps the envelope with a weary finger, the weight of the next weeks greeting him like an old friend. "I should pack this away with the rest of my things." His fingers curl around the envelope and he slides it off the table. Standing, the envelope is pushed into his back pocket. "Good luck with…wherever you're going."
Graeme nods once, fingers wrapping around his coffee cup, and his gaze follows Deron for a moment. "I'll be making dinner soon," he adds. ''And by making dinner, I mean heating up soup Liz made. Come back down in a bit, yeah?" Because it's important to spend time just hanging out, even with all that there is to be done, but it's still an invitation rather than a demand. "And yeah. You too."