Lighting the Flame


brian_icon.gif bai-chan_icon.gif deckard_icon.gif flint_icon.gif delilah_icon.gif joe_icon.gif kain_icon.gif kameron_icon.gif rocket_icon.gif sable_icon.gif zuleyka_icon.gif

Scene Title Lighting the Flame
Synopsis The opening of the Lighthouse
Date February 20 2009

The Lighthouse

From the outside, the Lighthouse looks as if it has had better days. The massive tower rising out of the house has fallen from its former glory. It is no longer a shining beacon, guiding wayward ships in from the lost harbor — though some may argue its purpose now is even more admirable. In its current state, the lighthouse seems to be in disrepair. Though upon closer inspection it all seems to be in the details. The paint has chipped away, leaving a discolored patterns of grays, whites, off-whites, and more grays. The occasional graffitti tag is here or there along the large building. One would notice that the doors, the windows, and the integrity of the building are all quite sound and newly repaired. The lighthouse has just been left with the look of abandonement.

Inside is a completely different story. Upon entering the main door, one will find a completely furnished and cozy arrangement. A spacious living room lined with two large blue sofa's, facing each other, a coffee table between them and several large bean bag chairs have been planted in the room. Shelves have been hung on the wall to display various different pictures of the occupants. A large bookcase is against the wall, holding a large variety of books from Dr.Seuss to the Bible, and even a copy of the Qur'an. The living room is focused on the fireplace a small black fence encloses it, the wood stocked on the bricks in front of it.

Connected to the living room is a kitchen, complete with a large rectangular table capable of seating around four on each long side and two on each end. A sink, a stove, an oven, a microwave and two refrigerators complete the look. Several low and overhead cabinets line the kitchen. At the edge of the kitchen are a pair of doors, one leading to a bedroom and the other, which has a padlock on it, leads to the basement.

At the back of the living room a glass sliding door leads out into the backyard of the Lighthouse, but just before it a staircase leads to the upper levels of the structure.

Surveying himself in the mirror, Brian finally gives a nod of approval at himself. The young man has finally dressed himself up, putting effort into his appearance. Even if his outfit isn't exactly matching, he at least tried. A black dress shirt, black slacks and a bright blue tie. Straightning the tie, the young man looks down at the younger boy at his side. Joe is dressed as the replicator's mini, in nearly the same outfit. Making a final adjustment at the little tie, he gives a nudge to the young man's shoulder. "Go get the door, okay JoeJoe?"

Following the young man into the living room, Brian is surrounded by tables brought in full of different types of food. Nothing amazing, storebought treats, homecooked appetizers so and so donated, it's not excellent food but it's good enough. The Lighthouse may not be recognized by the rest of the world, but it is already getting support from its community on the island.

Approaching eight, Brian eyes the clock. An empty table has been laid aside for gifts for the kids. So far, it's empty. Wetting his lips the young man casts a nervous glance at the staircase and then towards the door. Not many people here, yet. He raises a nervous hand to set on Joe's shoulder.

Party! Celebration! Chips! Music! People! All this and more, and Kameron - is admittedly a little uneasy, albeit with the sort of uneasiness that comes with meeting new people, and being in semi-unfamiliar surroundings. For the past few hours she spent her time circling the lighthouse interior, familiarizing herself with the layout. She did take the time to at least dress nicely, if casually. Prince was even brushed to look his best, and the dog comes padding down the steps, leading Kameron slowly and carefully. "Has anyone arrived yet?"

Off the record…Flint had a meeting with a nice Salvation Army volunteer. And stole his wallet, bucket of donations, nice navy uniform jacket and hat. He has found a pair of 'nice' black slacks and a white button down shirt, he even has a tie on, under his 'stylish' navy blazer. He carries a sack like santa would carry and has a toothpick dangling from between his teeth as he knocks on the door and then saunters into the area, humming some little ditty to himself. "HO ho HO, meeeeeeeerry ya'll ain't got lice no more." He gives a hee-haw of a laugh. "I got some cookies here and uh…toys." A pause as he reaches up with a free hand to adjust that hat on his almost bald head at a jaunty angle.

Zu's there, in what passes for decent dress. Which means she's gothed out, pretty much - black dress, though it's a plain, simple cut, with lace at the neckline, black tights, black boots, under a slightly oversized black coat. Mascara and kohl, and a stain that leaves her lips berry red. She looks nervous, try as she might to conceal her unease under a neutral expression, pale eyes taking in the surroundings.

As far as Bai-Chan can pick it, well. Celebration or no celebration, he wasn't about to get wrestled into a tie. He's wearing a little hoodie, jeans, the boots Eileen had given him, and has at least cleaned his hands. He stands, now, at the table - not nearest the food, or the presents, even, but where the plates and cutlery is stacked for people to use as needed. He palms a plastic fork just as the big bald man comes in, so just as well, the little Chinese boy turning a rather strangely predatory look on this new intruder, although more curious than anything else. For now? He goes to duck under the table.

It's only by sheer luck that Sable heard about this little opening, and she is thankful for the first time in her life that her stature and features bely her age. She hips through the door, her guitar case in tow, a oversized coat hanging from her shoulders, keeping her warm because her tanktop wouldn't do the job. She has the good grace to take off her cap once she's inside, and uses the back of her hand to smooth out her unkempt hair. No one told her it was going to be black tie! Or even bright blue tie. She looks around, noting faces, trying to figure out how this all works.

A lanky youth is hovering around by the doorway as if unsure of how to utilize it, a head of brown curls bobbing to and fro and to and fro as his eyes dart between the very edges of the frame like a game of Pong. Rocket is underdressed, even considering the company, a sweater hanging off his upper body with a small, black-edged hole burnt into the bottom hem, jeans at least foregone in favor of worn cotton trousers. He is almost punched in the nads by the guitar that swings by on Sable's shoulder. Smiling nervously, he straightens his hips out again and creeps in in the tiny guitarist's wake. "Hellooooo," he says, to no one in particular. Everybody. Anybody.

"Yeah they're coming in, Kammy." Brian quips over his shoulder to the woman walking down the stairs. His eyes go down to Joe. A little squeeze is given to the boy's shoulder as the replicator looks over his shoulder in search for the other boy in the care of the lighthouse. Just in time to spot the boy ducking under a table with a fork. His lips draw back into a thin line.

Many people are wandering in and for a moment, the man wishes he would have presented more copies but…For now his attention is grasped by the large man with the loud laughter. Stepping forward he greets with as charming a smile he can muster. "Hi, welcome to the Lighthouse. My name is Brian, and this is JoeJoe, we really apprecaite you coming and showing your support." His hand is offered to Flint. The line sounds pretty rehearsed.

Prince is about to bark at the presence of what he interprets as intruders to the second home - but he doesn't. Instead he sniffs at his surroundings, so transformed for just a party, sensing the excitement and tension in the air. From behind mirrored sunglasses, Kameron opens her eyes and glances around slightly, marking various people's locations in her memory. And reminding herself to not approach for fear of blowing her cover. Like she almost did last time.

While Brian addresses the man with the laughter and voice, Kameron starts forward cautiously to the -OTher- voice she heard. The one by the door. "Hello!" Kameron chirps, acknowledging the voices with a smile. "Come in, please. Don't mind Prince, he won't bite." She adds, leaning down to pat the animal with a smile. Prince no doubt noticed Bai-Chan duck under the table. He'll go and say hello to him and Joe once he's off duty (or once Kameron has chosen to sit down, at least).

Navy blues, blacks, ties- it's all too dreary. The shock of colors that is Delilah's skirt stands out like a pastel-y rainbow beacon from under her light green sweater. She's wearing a tattered old men's coat, which immediately slips off to the crook of her arm as she gets inside. The redhead skitters out of the doorway, hand digging in the coat pockets for a fist-sized wrapped box, which she promptly deposits on the table for the kids. (It's money, but splittable money.) She didn't have much to give a week ago, but now she's less conscious about such a thing. Her luck has turned, and so should everyone else's.

The girl leans up against the cutlery table as Brian speaks, and only after he's done does she offer a fluttering wave in his general direction. Even if she doesn't get a chance to mingle too much, at least she is here. And around.

Flint takes Brian's hand and shakes it firmly, squeezing and grinning with a chuckle. "Well, I'm all for men takin' care of what they den shot up some easy lady person's cooter, one way or another. I uh…brought some stuff I should get out for all the err folks. I gotta put it out on the table though, iffen you'll be uh, excusin' me." He's trying to be polite, okay? Trying. Because turning to head towards the table.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that," Sable offers in a half mutter to rocket, after nearly promoting him to Soprano. She sidles out of the way of the door, so as to let the growing stream of people past. She spots the hand shaking, noting it with some interest, then her eyes catch on Delilah's red head. She steps a little closer, finding the cutlery table and examining the implements. "Didn't know this was something to dress to," she admits, with mild sheepishness, in a sidelong comment to the Delilah.

It's not as though Bai-Chan is going to hamstring anyone from this vantage point, right? It's a plastic fork, anyway, so he couldn't. Not that he'd try. Not unless they seemed to deserve it, anyway. He stays where he's crouched, for now, twirling the plastic fork idly in his hands before finally shuffling forward, peering up at Delilah as she goes to stand nearest him. Tentatively, he pokes at the tent of her skirt, perhaps for the lack of visible hamstring, angling so as he get a better look. Not up her skirt, just at her.

The guitarist's apology warrants a hapless grin from the curly-cropped boy. "It's okay. I wasn't inside or outside. It happens. Dude." The latter address is for Flint, no doubt: Rocket is mildly horrified at the way the guy phrased that. "That's pretty graphic and… dude." Shaking his head, he angles a glance sideways between all the girls in the variety of black lace, rags, and knitted rainbow, then down at the tiny Chinese boy who sprouted out of the floor next to Delilah. Inevitably, it's the latter who is proffered a hand. "Hi," he says. And entirely solemnly: "I'm Rocket."

The guitarist's apology warrants a hapless grin from the curly-cropped boy. "It's okay. I wasn't inside or outside. It happens. Dude." The latter address is for Flint, no doubt: Rocket is mildly horrified at the way the guy phrased that. "That's pretty graphic and… dude." Shaking his head, he angles a glance sideways between all the girls in the variety of black lace, rags, shades,x and knitted rainbow, then down at the tiny Chinese boy who sprouted out of the floor next to Delilah. Inevitably, it's the latter who is proffered a hand. "Hi," he says. And entirely solemnly: "I'm Rocket." Kameron's general greeting makes him tilt backward slightly and look at her eyewear until he suspects he's staring, and stops.

It's amazing how 'Oww-' can be morphed into 'okay'. "Owkay." Brian lets out as the man takes his hand, rather firmly, examining his own hand after released a rather bewildered look is given up to Flint. His gaze matches the larger man's though it is rather certain he has no idea what the hell the guy is saying. "Oh. Great." He responds cheerily, though there is not much enthusiasm to his optimistic statement. More confusion. Watching the man pass by him, Brian turns fully around, giving a slow wave to Delilah with a little smile. His eyes inevitably go down from Delilah to the little hand poking with a plastic—ffff. Brian's cheery features turn into a grimace. Sable and Zuleyka earn a quick glance. But Brian is on his way for the table dropping to his knees, Brian offers his hand under it and utters a single word that carries more meaning than it should.


If Flint really understands why he's here…there is no way of knowing really as he sighs and makes his way towards the table with the food and stuff and starts unpacking things. Ya know. Some twinkies, some of those oatmeal cream cookies, some jiffy pop popcorn, and some jello cups as he sets things down on the floor in front of the table, freezing only when he notices a little boy and he rummages around, pulling out a baseball and hunkering down and holding it out like a peace offering. He is only momentarily distracted though by Delilah and if he could, he would be looking up her skirt. But nevermind you that, kthnx. "Merry happy christmas birthday lil' yeller feller. This is a baaaaaasebaaaaaaaall. It ain't like chopsticks but I figger you'll be able to do sumthin' with it." He adjusts his hat again cuz it doesn't really fit and goes back to unpacking his pillow case with a free hand as he holds out the ball. AHA, he finds the packs of crayons. That gets set aside as well. "Ya can't forget that the best toys a man'll ever get are probably their balls." He nods sagely. Then thinks about how he phrased that and cracks the f**k up, really. He hee-haws and lauuuuuuughs. Gasping for air.

Delilah looks up as Sable steps closer, offering the young woman a smile. "I didn't either! And everyone is dressed for a Funeral, it looks like. I would've worn someth-" What was that? Is there something down there? The redhead peers down at the direction of the sway in her skirt, just in time to see the tip of a plastic fork slip out of sight. "…" Who- Then there is a Rocket-Man and a Brian, then a creepy guy and at that point, Delilah takes a slow, tentative step away, and a meager "Hhhhhiii-" to everyone suddenly paying attention over here. Her hand seems to attach itself automatically to Rocket's, even though she only looks up at him after the fact. "Delilah." She is still glancing over at the space beside and under the table.

Brian, being the most familiar person here, is rewarded with a narrowed eyed gaze, which drops down to the fork in his hand. Bai-Chan does him a good turn tonight, however, and only purses his mouth in displeasure before handing Brian the plastic fork.

There are more forks where it came from.

But then the large be-hatted bald man in crouching in front of him, offering a baseball. Slooowly does it, Bai-Chan takes it from Flint, eyes wide and mouth drawn into a thin line, and finally, he draws himself out of his crouch by the table, standing up straight and holding onto the peace offering. Because Brian is present, Bai-Chan hesitantly offers a polite, if stiffly delivered word of thanks. "Xie xie." But people are gathering, and Bai-Chan goes to slip through the crowd, away, shouldering up to a wall, although no threat of climbing it just yet. He is currently picking his fingernail along the stitching of his new present, nose wrinkled.

Thank heaven for Kammy's peace of mind, she did /not/ hear what Flint had just said. Judging from Rocket's reaction, it was probably bad. But Kameron is a bit confused by the non-response from Rocket. "I… um… sorry?" Is her confused response, puzzled by the long silence that would seem to a blind person. "Did I say something wrong?" Why else would someone stare at her? "Ah - sorry, I didn't think," must be afraid of dogs. Consciously aware of people gatherin by the other table where Bai-Chan is hiding, she moves backwards with Prince, to give Rocket and any other people with fear of canines, room. Besides, It was too much of a temptation for the pup.

Sable acquires a fork, then looks down at her guitar case. Not gonna put /that/ down. No sir. So she sets down the fork. And considers. If only she could find a way to combine all the utensils she needs into one… And she is blessed by whomever it was invented the spork, that much mocked multitool of eating. She snatches one up, turning to catch the running commentary. She grimaces as Flint dissolves into a torrent of laughter. "Jesus H. W. Christ on a bicycle. I wish I thought anything was as funny as you think you are, man."

Abandoned by his diminutive, fork-wielding target, Rocket's hand is left to hang empty in the air for a long moment, which ends when Flint explodes with laughter and Delilah seizes his appendage and offers somewhat more palatable salutations. He straightens whiplash-quick, ends up blinking rapidly at the girl holding his hand.

"Man!" he tells her, despite visible evidence to the contrary. His fingers close, and his arm jigs mechanically up and down. "Man, this place is crowded, huh? Good thing it's big. Ah," his face begins to adopt a querulous smile as he catches Kameron's faltering salutation through the hubbub. "Sorry — sorry, I didn't see you there." Her glasses had distracted him from the fact there was a person wearing them, you see. Uhh.

Outside of the lighthouse, the sound of approaching vehicles comes quick, matched with the glow of headlights in the dark coming up the road to the tower. More than one, from the noise of tires crunching gravel, revving of engines and the number of headlights. They come to abrupt stops, clearly in a hurry whoever they are. Doors open quietly and close far louder, eight doors closing in all, mixed with the noise of conversation and many sets of footsteps approaching the crumbling old tower. The engines stay running, and the commotion of footsteps approaching the main doors of the Lighthouse's ground floor. Stern knocking slams on the front entrance of the building, muffled voices on the other side.

Out of the ground floor windows, a cadre of men in suits stand on the front stoop of the Lighthouse, one of them knocking, another standing talking to a young man holding a telescoping lensed camera in both hands, with another around his neck. A woman stands behind the camera man, roughly tossing her hair, pulling at a ragged fringe of bangs. A tall, blonde man with a rough beard of stubble stands just behind the rest of the group, the glow of a cigarette lighting his face.
*Seen out of the ground floor windows,

Flint holds his stomach laughing and just shaking his head with a titter and then takes a deep breath and then another before adjusting his hat again before 'wooing!' and rolling his shoulders before starting to line the jello cups up on the table, then the jiffy pop, then the oatmeal cream cookies and the like and he watching little 'Shay Shay' wonder off and he just tsks, chuckling from time to time and ignoring the comment about how funny he is(nt). "Why folks keep givin' their lil' boys dumbass names…" He mutters irritably before announcing. "WHEN THAT HOOKER I KNOCKED UP GIVES BIRTH, I'm namin' my boy BOB or PATRICK or EMERIL." A pause. "OR BUGS BUNNY." Back to the Jello. Lalalala.

Taking the fork, Brian looks like he might pursue talking to the Chinese boy, but he is suddenly very distracted. He had planned on approaching Zuleyka and introducing himself, repeating his memorized lines. Though a bunch of headlights through the windows, the young man's lips twitch for a moment. Was that a— Anxiety rushes through him as he sends a meaningful look to Kameron, wishing now more than ever she could see it.

Bending down to whisper something to Joe, he gives the boy a pat on the back before approaching the door. Adjusting his tie just for good measure, the replicator, barely cracks the door open. "Yes?" He says, one eye viewing from behind the door—One brow arches high at the yelling from behind him. Oh God. "Is there a problem?" He asks with a charming smile after the hooker talk ends.

Kameron shakes her head with a faint smile, though she's clearly still confused. "You ..didn't see me?" And she promptly steps in it. "Are you blind too?" She really needs to work on her people skills. Prince's attention swivels to the door as the sound of vehicles approaching is heard to his keen hearing, followed by the cacophany of doors shutting and footsteps. And then knocking. This is punctuated by barking, until Kameron reaches down to hush the animal.
Naturally she misses the look passed to her by Brian. Meaning lost, though she does wonder who's come to visit. "I hope there's going to be enough food," she murmurs lightly, almost blanching at what she -thinks- she just heard from that terribly, terribly loud man.

"'S gettin' there!" Dee is unaware of his floating handshake, but it seems to fit her demeanor anyway. She keeps edging away from the bundle of folks at one end of the table, only to stop and stare at Flint when he announces his …announcement. Caution has hit the wind, however. She glances from Flint to Rocket, then the people around him, then back at Flint. "What if it's a girl?" She says Very Loudly in response.

"No! No," Rocket reassures her hastily. "I'm just not very aware of my surroundings. Holy crap." He manages to contradict himself again, entirely, swerving to stare at the window at the dash and spatter of headlights and sound of car doors. "Holy crap," he repeats, glancing haphazardly at Delilah, whose hand he's still holding and whose lead his feet are haplessly following, until he notices this now and releases with a loud cough. One long hand jumps up to the back of his head, scratching at his curls, his eyes flitting toward the window. Those people out there look like some dark and macabre caricature of Social Services. "Why are you encouraging him?" he asks, distractedly.

"No problem at all," The brown-haired man in a suit says, holding up a business card to the door. "My name is Timothy Miller, I represent the department of social services, I'm looking for Brian Fulk?" His dark eyes level on Brian for a moment, and the words no problem at all seem to be some sort of joke, right? "I'm just here to take a look around and oversee the donation ceremony." The what? He takes a step closer towards the door, looking inside for a moment, and when he moves, Brian can see press badges on the woman fixing her hair and the man with the camera. The only face that doesn't fit in this circus crowd is the blonde man standing at the back of the group, quietly smoking his cigarette, watching the clusterfuck by the door with half-lidded eyes and a thin smile.

Only once the representative from DSS tries to angle himself inside, does the blonde man start moving, reaching inside of his pocket to retrieve a thin slip of paper, as his other hand throws his cigarette aside; the ember glowing in a red line thorugh the air before falling in some of the unmelted snow on the ground.

"I don't have no girly pecker woman! How the hell am I gonna have a girl? You explain to me just how the hell I'm gonna have a girl? I stuck it in there, I should be able to have a say in the sexender of this baby." Flint now looks rather indignant as he wield a jello cup in one hand and a cup of noodles in the other, frowning and narrowing his eyes. "That ain't how it works when the Uteran goes to the cabbage patch with the little soldiers and finds a care bear to give 'em a cabbage to put her in her belly that turns into a baby! DUH, lordy and they say 'stay in school'. I bet you did your homework too hunh? Lord, yer so smart…" He raises his voice a couple of mocking octaves. "Oooo, what if it's a giiiiirl?"

Delilah links all of her fingers together, holding the linked hands in front of her chest, blinking at Rocket. "It's a perfectly reasonable question." She doesn't get it. That whole 'stop being a crazy-man enabler'. When his response comes, Dee just laughs. Oh, he's funny. Even if everyone else doesn't think so. His stupidity is alarmingly hilarious to her/ "We'll see about that, mister Obstetrician. Tell me if the stork drops the baby on his way in the window, will you?"

Sneaking around the periphery of the room, Bai-Chan tapping the baseball against the wall as he goes, perhaps checking how hard it is. Brian is sidled up to, the boy's hand coming up to grip onto the Lighthouse's leader sleeve, not so much to gain attention. Just holding. He tries to peek passed him to observe what's going on outside, other hand clasped tight around the baseball.

Slamming his shoulder hard into the door, Brian shakes his head. They won't be pushing past him anytime soon. "No one by that name here. I'm afraid you have the wrong place. No donation ceremonies.. This is just a housewarming party." Brian insists. How is this—His decision to not bring any clothed replicates is greatly regretted now. And here he is without a gun… As if he would need it against members of the press. "I don't know where you think you are. But there is no one by that name here." Bai-Chan is glanced down to, and his features go into a wince. Of all the bad timing.. He can't exactly push the boy away, so his hand simply rests on the boy's head as he stares down the circus outside with a very clear 'go away' expression.

"Oh, well …" she pauses, "…isn't that what being —" she cuts herself short at the number of holy craps, "What is it?" Damning her lack of genuine sight, she turns towards the sounds heard - on the one hand, she's pretty sure the conversation between Loud Guy and the other girl is not the sort of conversation little children should be hearing. Instead, Kameron edges away from -that- conversation, since not even she wanted to be party to that.

"Ain't that just a funny shaped mistake then?" The blonde man slowly makes his way towards the door, and as he does, the DSS representative and the press move away when he swaggers up to the door. "Mah name is Kain Zarek, Public Relations representative of the Linderman Group." Kain doesn't hold up a liscense, or any other frm of identification, but rather a thin scrip of paper which in the dim light of the lamp outside, reads with so many zeroes on it that it seems almost like a joke. "We're lookin' for Brian Fulk, we're a bit late to the official opening of the Lighthouse, an' Mister Linderman would like to make a charitable donation to that establishment, in order to ensure that it has the utmost protection and care given to it."

Kain's blue eyes narrow, focusing on Brian as he dances the check around in one hand like a little pony prancing on a field, "Staten Island's an awful dang'rous place t'be runnin' an orphanage, an' Ah'm hopin' that we got this here address right. Ah'd… really hate for all'a this money to go to waste." Or for something terrible to happen — wouldn't that be a shame?

One normally expects a lot more noise, substances, and time passed before feds arrive to shut a party down. But the DSS is, at least in Sable's experience, some of the worst of the fed. She ducks around behind the refreshments. Maybe if this turns into a siege she can corner the market on hors devours. She sets her case on the ground and grips her fork; maybe she can take out an eye or something if things get ugly? Hard to know what's even going on.

Head of Lighthouse security, go! Bai-Chan stares up at Kain as he speaks to Brian, from where he's stationed just beside his surrogate— keeper, comfortably ignoring all the shenanigans going on behind him. Blink. Blink. He moves to step in front of Brian and draws his arm back as if to pitch the baseball at the blonde man, but it's a warning - he even bares his teeth. It's not that he knows all the subtly of all that's going on, but Brian isn't letting these people inside, so neither is Bai-Chan. It is, after all, the little boy's Lighthouse. He found it first.

Flint just eyes Dee warily and uncertainly before lowering his snack foods and shaking his head slowly as he gets the idea something odd is going on and he actually goes quiet, hmmmming and squinting. Adjusting his nice stolen hat.

"My name is Ahmed." Brian says, though it's terribly hard to resist a smile. Teo had insisted he use a fake name, so he did. But it was his own personal rebellion in choosing the name Ahmed. "And.. for the children's sake, I'd really appreciate if there were no cameras inside." Though his tone suggests that he's not moving until Kain makes some sort of compromise. A compromise on his donation giving. Brian is new at this.

Blinking down at the arm drawn back with the baseball the replicator hastily goes to catch the little arm in front of him. "Nihao." He reprimands quietly, bringing his other hand down to attempt to heft the boy up and place him up on his shoulders. Even if it won't take away from the boy's security sense, it will at lesat please him that he's given a better vantage point. Hopefully. A meaningful look is given to Kain. "Please."

Black overcoat bound firm against the cold over a lighter grey suit, Deckard's approach is one of dragging reluctance and distraction. It's a party. There might be booze, but there will also be lots of people. There might be women, but there will be many variably tiny, loud, and/or smelly homeless children. Scruffy jaw tipped down nearly to his chest while he walks, sunglasses tipped bleakly down at cracked concrete and boot toe scuffing after a bit of loose rock, he's still weighing the pros and cons when he draws up at what passes for the place's mailbox. Does it have a mailbox? Maybe it has one now.

He draws in a deep breath, steeling himself, lifts his head, and…oh. Wow. The press. Mouth fallen immediately open, he freezes, visible to those in the doorway over the shoulders of Kain and his merry men.

"Dude." DHSS. Linderman. What! Rocket's back is flattened to the wall and his round eyes are ricocheting off every available surface like its core is rubber-skinned air. "They're going to take us away," he hisses in Delilah's direction, phasing back into her conversation without any real idea of what it was all about. Money, and apparently Brian is Arabic. "He isn't Arabic," he mumbles sidelong at Delilah. "This is super weird." Noting Sable's defensive tactics, he starts to slide along the wall toward her. Strength in numbers. Or some sort of meatshield thing going on. Chivalry ain't dead, just needs cover.

"Well Admiral Ackbar, Ah'm just going to lay this out nice and clear." Kain's voice drops down lower, stepping conspiratorially close before he looks down at the young boy standing in front of Brian, blue eyes coming back up to the young man again. "Let me just throw the bullshit pail aside an' tell you how it is." The press gathered out front and the Department of Social Services rep wait quietly, one of them spotting the thinly drawn man lingering beyond their parked SUVs.

"This place you got here, this little rock and mud hovel you're gonna be raisin' kids in? It's a big how-de-doo bullseye to every anti-evolved nutjob with a rifle in a hundred yards." Kain glances over his hsoulder, not noticing Deckard, his focus more on the DSS agent, then back to Brian. "The moment the government sniffs out that your little City of Lost Children dramatization you an' all'a them are gonna' get locked up in a hole so dark and deep they ain't never gonna' find you." Blue eyes narrow, as Kain holds up the check, "But you're lucky, you got friends you ain't aware of yet."

"So you wanna' let me in, and keep these kids from gettin' shivved, or do you wanna keep shoutin' it's a trap?"

Oh okay. Security is foregone in favour of a shoulder ride, Bai-Chan effortlessly scrambling to help the swing up onto Brian's shoulders, feet braced securely against the man's chest and his free hand tangled in his hair for balance. The baseball is still clasped in his hand with stiff, spidery fingers, but whatever Kain is saying completely evades him. As far as he's aware, there's no threat he needs to be paying attention to, so he twists just enough to look back inwards, eyes narrowed.

His lips draw into a thin line. And he almost looks back as if to ask the person in charge what to do, but there is no one in charge. He's in charge. And that sucks. Kain is very convincing, wetting his lips, the young man slowly takes a step to the side. "Come on in." He says softly, bringing up one hand to rest on Bai-Chan's ankle. His gaze goes to find Kameron once again. His eyes wander up to Bai-Chan, or at least what he can see of him. Then his wary gaze returns to Kain and his crew, Deckard has not yet been seen.

Joe has remained completely oblivious to the whole situation at the door. His eyes wander over to the two hiding from the rest of the party. And the young boy decides to be brave, Brian had told him to try and make friends after all. Walking up to the pair the sharply dressed boy lifts his head and gives a cheery, "Hi."
Flint is, by the way, trying to open the box that is housing a barbie car. NOTHING TO SEE HERE. Over —-> There.

Naturally Kameron is still present, though she's preoccupied - she'd not been close enough to hearing what the fuss was all about, but at the same time, just from the tension in the room, and the fact that Prince himself seems to be on edge, she doubts it was shiney-happy fuss. Standing back out of the way of the main section of the room to avoid bumping into people or tripping, she keeps a firm grip on the dog's leash, listening to her surroundings more than 'watching' in her own special way.

"We got it all sorted out, fellas." Kain says with a louder voice, all smiles and sunshine as he slips inside, an all too well dressed man with a too-white smile sauntering in to the Lighthouse. Behind him, the DSS representative carries a slim briefcase, followed by the photographer and the reporter. The cadre enter the structure, and Kain motons around towards the staircase, "Get a few shots up the stairwell, Ah'll get us together for the photo op."

Turning slowly, Kain looks sidelong at Brian, then to the crowd. "Sorry t'interrupt folks, Mah name is Kain Zarek, public relations director of the Linderman Group. Ah'm here on behalf of the Linderman Group to present a check for eight-hundred thousand dollars as a charitible donation to the Lighthouse."

The female reporter pulls out a pocket recorder, walking up to Brian, "Do you have a moment? Answer a few questions before we take the photo opportunity?" There's something more sincere about her smile, but notably the photographer is doing a job of photographhing everythiing except the people attending the party. Kain takes a quiet step back, looking to the DSS representative and nods towards Brian.

"Ah, yes ah — Mister Fulk." It's like he's already been briefed on this, and isn't reacting in the slightest about the earlier deception. "I'm here on behalf of the Department of Social Services to present you with your official documentation for permission to act as an emissary of the state," He motions to the briefcase, "I can leave all these here with you, this should…" His voice grows more quiet, "Keep people who ask the wrong questions from getting any legal traction with you, and protect the security of the children from the legal talons that would scrape at them."

Is everyone he brought with him a white-collar criminal?

The press, Social Services, and Kain Zarek. Deckard bristles in place, narrow face turning minutely aside to match the hollow stare of the single skull that twists back his way. In the time it takes the whole Kain train to filter inside he's vacated the walk, all six feet two inches of him shadowing briefly through the opposite side of SUV windows in the half second before he's gone.

Flint is sprawled out on his stomach now, with one of those ugly and now discontinued Bratz dolls and a toy raptor and…red jello and the barbie car. This…probably will not end well as he's placing the raptor in the drivers seat and then opening up the jello cup.

As Brian moves back inside and, inevitably, so does Bai-Chan, he casts his now allseeingness around the room, back straight. The ride is short lived, however, Bai-Chan tugging gently at Brian's hair once. "Nihao," is his instruction, and promptly, he's delivered back down to the floor, only really requiring a hand down rather than effort on Brian's part, especially as one hand flattens against the wall, catches there, and allows him to swing and land in a crouch back on the floor.

A cookie is stolen from the table. This is stuffed into his mouth, crunching noisily, as he approaches Flint, apparently taken to playing with the toys he brought. Two twin thuds!s as Bai-Chan's knees connect with the floor, simply gnawing on his cookie and watching the car with the raptor and the jell-o.

Apparently there will be no need for pushing over the refreshment table and hitting the deck. Sable's almost disappointed. Instead there is a media flux, and a big figure tossed around. The girl's eyes narrowed. Shit is very clearly going down, and under some serious public spotlight, albeit very managed spotlight. However, what is she to do? She takes a cue from Bai-Chan and snags a cookie, eyeing Mr. Zarek. New York is a big pond with big sharks, it would seem.

By now, Rocket has made up his mind not to physically conceal himself underneath the table and Sable's diminutive proportions. He's installed very stiffly over by the wall, either trying not to listen or trying very hard to look like he isn't. His eyes twitch and turn, saccadically, between the boy with the cookie and Flint's giant, bald, and maneuvering toys into horrifying configurations. Eventually, his gaze manages to lock trajectory with the plastic cutlery poking out of Sable's hand. He hopes she knows how to use that thing. Stiff as a board, he shuffles up and, surreptitiously, also acquires a cookie. "Is this like blackmail? Right in front of us?" he whispers from behind the baked disc. In case they have lip-readers.

Flint removes his hat and sets it aside now, tongue poking out the corner of his lips as he concentrates and then pauses to peer at Bai-Chan. He reaches back into his bag to pull out one of those little teddy bears, this one is neon green though and he sets it down in front of Bai before dipping Kelly's head in the jello and then her legs, working carefully. "Here, you can be the unfortunate bystander iffen you like, the raptor's drunk off his ass here and this girl has her head shoved up /her/ ass cuz she's blowin' the captain of the football team and harassin' the uh…" He holds up a twinkie. "Pretend this here is the geeky chunky gal, okay? Datin' the raptor…" He crams the twinkie into the car beside the raptor. "Or you can be the cop…I ain't particular."

It's a little strange for the man to be talking 'bout photo ops when the reporters were taking pictures of the interior of the Lighthouse, and not the people. And quite frankly, as hysterical as the antics going on with Flint and the toys might be, she's kind of glad she can't see it beyond the vague shapes she's capable of seeing. Her hand twists slightly, coiling the length of the dog leash tighter around her wrist, knowing well to keep a firm grip of her pup whenever he was as on edge as he was tonight. On the other hand, the cookies were well received, and that is always a plus.

Brian just stares at the woman who walks up to him with the recorder. "Does there have to be a photo opportunity?" He practically whines. "My face— I shouldn't be—" Words are hard. "I am greatly appreciative to whatever is going on." He manages, "I think." He gives as an afterthought. His eyes follow Bai-chan as the boy jumps down and goes to accompany Flint. A little frown pulls at his lips.

Making his way away from the woman Brian quickly crosses the room—the party, at least it was a party until Kain showed up. Slinking in beside Kameron, the replicator slips his hand into her hand quietly, giving a soft indication with his voice that it is him and not some weirdo holding her hand. His eyes go to Kain to follow the rest of the proceedings. Though his eyes go very wide at the announcement of how large the check is going to be. Eight hundred thousand…

Zoey comes walking in, carrying one of those oh so convenient pizza-warmer things that the deliverymen use to keep pizzas warm while being delivered. It looks rather stuffed full of pizza boxes and she carries it in front of her with both hands. This normally wasn't her crowd, in fact she wouldn't have even known about this event were it not for a chance encounter yesterday. Still, she had decided it might be good for her to mingle with people in a different social niche. And of course, when meeting new people, gifts are always in order. Pizza's a gift, right? She sticks her head inside the door of the lighthouse, peering around a bit, "Ah, am I too late for the whatever this is?" Anyone looking to her would notice that she doesn't really fit the whole vagrant look. Her clothes are neat, clean, and obviously expensive.
Pausing where he stands, Kain's eyes finally notice the fully grown adult playing with toys on the floor. His lips part, in disbelief as he recognizes Flint Gordon with furrowed brows. Rolling his tongue over the inside of his mouth, Kain tries his best not to point out that he knows the hare-brained criminal, nor that Kain's the reason Flint is out here at all.

"the public is going to want to know about a man who is selfless enough to save a group of orphaned children and devote his life to helping raise them and find them good homes. Wouldn't you imagine that would be a good public face to have, Mister Fulk? It could potentially keep public opinion of yourself very…" She smiles, holding up the recorder, "Favorable." With a click, a green light turns on and she asks, "What was your inspiration for starting up this project; what inspired a young man of your age to want to take care of the children this city of ours has forgotten?"

While this is going on, the photographer returns from his rounds to Kain's side, "Good enough, Mister Zarek. We'll get a shot of Mister Fulk and you together with the chick, and then motions over to the Social Services agent. "This will run in tomorrow's issue, front page just like you asked. This won't get fluffed down. Positive piece, it'll look better than the riots."

Kain nods slowly, distractedly, trying to pretent that Flint Gordon isn't laying on his belly playing with Dolls when he should be busting people's heads open and setting them on fire a mile away from here. He winces, then watches the reporter and Brian talking, taking a few slow steps around the Lighthouse, eyeing the people here, looking for all his worth to either be very good at faking concern, or perhaps being genuinely worried about a handful of rugrats in the middle of the most dangerous island in America.

Kain's eyes settle on Rocket for a moment, dark brows lowering as if trying to puzzle out whether or not he recognizes the young man. The look passes, and his blue eyes son drift across to Zoey, looking her up and down briefly before just letting out a quiet grunt, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

Sable keeps her words concealed by a cookie as well, but it's in her mouth instead of in front of it, a devious adaptation. "Ish shomfin' like jhat," she agrees, in a gargled murmur, nodding. She gulps, "'course usually it's blackmailers taking money, not giving it away. Wonder what he wants? I knew coming here was a bad idea. Fucking Evolved bullshit," she casts a quick glance at Rocket, "Uh… no offense if you're one of them or anything. And… when I say 'one of them' I don't mean it like… y'know…" she wrinkles her nose, and halts before she can dig herself deeper. "Look, I don't know about all this. What do you buy with that kinda money? And what do you sell for it?"

Preoccupied with 'watching' the goings on over by the table, and in keeping her pup calm, Kammy gives a bit of a start at the sudden presence and hand grasping hers. In fact, she's about to jerk her hand out of Brian's grip until the reassurance - phew. She relaxes again, as much as she can at least, and gives his hand a light squeeze of acknowledgement, murmuring a quiet, "That's a …rather generous…donation." She didn't think even her parents donated that much.
Of course Brian is being questioned, and at the same time she can hear another voice, and automatically responds with, "No, you aren't too late." Does she smell pizza? Leaning forward a bit, she tilts her head one way, then the other, trying to pinpoint which direction Zoey was in.
Bai-Chan studies this configuration of toys, fairly fascinated at these proceedings. The neon green bear isn't picked up, not really recognising this as his role to play in this scenario, content to be an audience as much as he likely doesn't understand a lot of what the hell Flint is talking about. Then, his eyes go up, studying the man - mostly his head. There's some hesitation, then he looks at the baseball. Then Flint's head. Then the baseball. They are reasonably similar, shiny-wise. He rewards the man with a bright smile. "Niaho." That's all they know how to say, after all, if Brian be representin'. He shows Flint the baseball, as if this were new to him, then shuffles on closer. As an afterthought, he reaches for the car, then has it run over the teddybear. "Vrrrr."

He's too busy having a recorder in his face to recognize the woman gifting them with pizza. Brian's hand remains firmly on Kameron's hand. She won't be able to take it away if she wanted to. "I— Uhh." Brian utters into the recorder, practically staring at the woman. A glance is flashed at Kameron as if grasping for help. He wasn't prepared for this, he didn't have lines memorized. "Uhh..God?" It's more of a question than a statement. "Faith?" He adds in, as if that helped solidify his answer. "We just wanted to do something good."

Flint isn't really concentrating on much but this gruesome little scene, really. He grins at Bai-Chan now, gufawing cheerfully. "Well Needaho right back atcha lil' Jackie Chan." He chuckles and then watches Bai with the baseball and the car…and the bear and he stares for a few moments before fingering some jello out, the lovely red stuff smeared on the bear before Flint moves his finger out of the way and has the little jello smeared Kelly doll run around, higher pitched voice goes here. "OH no, oh no, they hit the green beaaaaar, oooooohnnoooooooo, aaaah, aaaaah, aaaaah." He concentrates for a moment. "Somethin's missin'. Hmmm." News reporters? Pictures? What? He does hear the mention of Pizza, looking up with a frown.

The reporter smiles, nodding her head slowly as she looks around the lighthouse, "What made you choose Staten Island, of all places? Were you afraid about the crime rate out here? It would have been easier to take children from Manhattan. Did you realize just how difficult this would be on you before you comitted yourself to the cause of looking after the forgotten island's children?"

The forgotten island, that is what the media is calling this place these days. New York's forgotten disaster.

While the reporter pumps brian for some sound bytes, Kain tracks his way back to the DSS representative, leaning over to speak to him in confidence. The two seem to share hushed words to one another, followed by the dark-haired man stepping away from Kain to leave the briefcase of documents behind near the staircase before straightening again and walking in a slow path towards Brian and the reporter.

This is a very well organized circus.
… Brian has a vice grip on her hand. Erm. She almost looks down at her hand, giving it a curious little tug, perhaps wondering why it's in a death grip. Unable to see the glances passed to her, she can at least determine that the poor guy was floundering a bit. If the grasp on her hand was a need for support, she can certainly give that much. She's thoughtful a moment, listenin to the reporter interview her friend, and her skin crawls. It isn't until the last question directed towards the poor man that Kameron finds herself speakin without thinking, "It may be difficult," she says in a hesitant voice, "But he's not alone." Even after the words are spoken Kameron is wishing she'd bitten her tongue - why draw attention? She'll apologize to Brian later.

"Uh, no," Rocket is quick enough to reply. "I'm not. Coincidentally. I have friends who are." Well, quick at least; quick enough is subject to interpretation. His brow falls, darkens, inundated under the pressure of too many deep and difficult brain thoughts. He winds up flipping the cookie down from his face, jamming its crumbly contours into his mouth. "Bunch 'f 'ids wi' shuperpowersh they c'd tage advantashe 'f?" he surmises in a paranoid mumble, staring at Kain very hard from his peripheral vision. "'R maybe Ahmett 'ver there'sh shomeone worth—" he coughs, brown eyes bulging briefly. Closing a fist, he hammers himself once on the sternum. "Worth having favors from."

Bai-Chan smiles again as Flint continues the pantomime, still refusing to let go of the present he was given so he doesn't clap his hand or anything, just lets out a sharp-sounding moment of laughter. Because violence is fun, or something, or the sight of the big man making a girl voice is amusing, and altogether this distraction is delightful. AND HE HAS TO SHOW BRIAN. Picking up the jell-o smeared green bear, Bai-Chan nimbly gets to his feet and trots on over without another word to Flint, regardless of who's interviewing what, focused only on showing off the tragedy he helped coordinate, offering up the toy for inspection, eyes bright.

In the time it takes Sable to translate the cookie encoded message Rocket transmits, she is unable to cook up an alternative explanation. Those two sound good. Well not so much good as bad, but very reasonable. And then she hears Zoey's voice, a familiar voice in all this wh-huh? She pops up from behind the table and peers around, then starts to vigorously wave at the woman, because apparently swinging your arm around like a lunatic is much less conspicuous than just calling someone's name from across a room full of people mingling and hobnobbing and being assaulted by the press.

And Kameron has a voice like an angel. A shaky breath leaves his lips as Kameron steps in for him. He doesn't much pay attention what she says, more importantly that she's talking to the recorder instead of him. He'll thank Kameron later. A squeeze is given to her hand as his eyes search the room finding Joe and then Bai-Chan. He then looks to the man approaching him. Finally, he replies to the forgotten islands children comment. "Some people never forgot them." He comments softly, glancing over to Kain.

And then Bai-Chan is showing him a jello'd bear. And it all but makes the man crumble at the hilarity of it all. He chuckles and wears a huge grin at the boy's new toy. Bringing up his free hand, he goes to pet his head softly. "Nihao." He says happily before returning his attention up to the reporter and the oncoming Kain.

Zoey grins as she finds she hasn't missed the hullabaloo, and then she hears the familiar voice and sees the lunatic waving from Sable. She grins and starts making her way over to the table, steering clear of the reporter type people. She wasn't really here to be on camera, after all. She drops the pizzas down on the table near Sable and grins, "I bring tidings of great pizza."

Flint looks like a proud papa, really, all grinning after Bai-Chan and scratching his cheek as he laughs softly, taking time though to snap off Kelly's arm though, dipping it back into the jello before dropping the arm and the be-jelloed doll in front of the toy car, clearing his throat and sucking the rest of the jello out of the cup with judicious use of tongue and lip suction.
It's not what the reporter expected, and her eyes flick silently to Kameron, then to Zarek as if looking for permission on how to proceed. Kain just shrugs, in a that was her call gesture, and the young woman offers a demure smile, raising the recorder towards Kameron now. "It's good to see someone as hoenst as Mister Fulk here has the help and appreciation he deserves. If you don't mind my asking, for purposes of the interview, who're you in relation to Mister Fulk, and in what capacity will you be helping him with the Lighthouse?"

Seeing the little CHinese boy coming over, Kain walks into the middle of the interview, slapping a hand on the reporter's shoulder right after she begins to question Kameron. "Alright you got your sound bytes for the article. Get outta' the frame, Missy." Quick to flick his blue eyes down to the kid, Kain seems momoentarially weakened by the boy's enthusiasm and his smile, soon looking back up to Brian. "We need a photograph for the front page. Me, you and whoever else you want bein' a hero in the public's eye." He nods down to Bai-Chan, "Maybe the kid too. Whatever. Your call."

"Nihao," Bai-Chan responds to Brian, then looks towards Kain when he joins the party too. "Wo sa le ta!" Bai-Chan tells this man cheerfully, all smiles, despite the fact he'd started to attempt to break the man's face with a baseball just moments ago. Perhaps not despite, seeing as that translates, roughly, to 'I killed it! :D' As for photo ops, this, like many things, go over the boy's head, but he's peering back over at Flint, now, and tucking the teddy bear under his arm, that hand now reaching for Brian's as if about to urge him over to play too. It must be said, this is the most sociable he's been - perhaps finding his groove amongst the adults, or at least, the Lighthouse is safe territory.

"His friend." Kameron replies a bit uncomfortably. "And I'll be assisting him with lookin after the children and teaching t-" How rude, some person just walking into her line of not-sight. As she's directed to get out of the frame, Kameron shifts her weight, not sure which way to go - or if Brian is goin to even let go of her hand at all. "Sorry," she stammers softly, making a gesture that must mean, 'move' to the dog. It must mean this, as Prince gives a brief growl again, getting to his feet so that Kameron can move on. If Brian lets her anyway.

SLUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP - Flint's working the hell outta that Jello Cup. That's all one needs to know at the moment, waiting for Officer Dead Bloody Green Teddy to get back, naturally. Turning his cap backwards though, so he can be truely pimping.

"The Lighthousekeepers are getting roped in by Linderman," Rocket whispers to Zoey, behind the inconspicuous camoflage of one smooth hand lifted up near his face. He gestures toward the press, the sandy-haired suit, and the hapless couple in the midst of the throng with two white-ringed eyes.

"Y'know? Linderman? Eight hundred thousand dollars, man. They gave this place eight hundred thousand dollars." Quickly, he snatches his hand down, and begins to pour himself a plastic cup of soda. The cookie crumbs are abrading his throat. Also whispered: "What kind of pizza?"

Brian looks down at Bai-Chan tugging on his hand. His eyes go to Kain for a moment as he gives a slow nod. "Please don't talk to her that way." Brian says softly to Kain when she's telling Kameron, to move. Keeping his vice grip on Kameron's hand he tugs her a little closer. If he's being thrusted into the public eye, so is she. Releasing her hand, his arm snakes around her shoulders, pulling her into him. Looking down at Bai-Chan he jerks his head up. "Nihao." He suggests as he goes to lift up on Bai-Chan's hand, and hold him up with one arm. The happy little family picture opportunity. Unfortunately Joe is busy binging on cookies.

"Didn't think you'd actually /come/," Sable says, smiling at Zoey now that she is safely stationed near the table, an object that has acquired a feeling of 'home base' for her, "Thought you were just being polite. Or something." She glances at Rocket as he relates the goings on, and nods her assent. "I'm going to stick around just long enough to get some cut of that goddamn check and then I scram. Okay, just long enough to get a cut of this pizza /and/ the check. But yeah, after that, no way. Something's seriously fucking brewing."

Zoey arches an eyebrow at Rocket's words, "Linderman? Hm." She frowns a bit. She'd heard some rumors about the man, none of them very good. She purses her lips a bit, "Wonder what's in it for him.." That last is soft, whispered to herself. She quickly schools her features and grins as the opens up the pizza's warmer thing, pulling out boxes, "Pepperoni, sausage, veggie, cheese, and supreme." She sets them out so people can help themselves, "Figured folks would like enjoy pizza."

Flint looks like he's trying to figure out what to do with the now empty jello cup, hmmming softly to himself as he sits up and scratches his cheek, squinting over towards Bai-Chan and Brian's family dynamic, sorta…staring and seeing past them with a confused expression on his face for a few moments then he shakes his head quickly and looks back to his raptor. "Raar, bitch should get out the the street if she don't wanna get hit. Raaar." He speaks for the dino before voice goes back up a couple of octaves. "AHhhhhhhhhhhh, my spleeeeeeeeeen." Then he speaks for the Twinkie, adding more vibrato. "Honey, they ain't never gonna fix that at the shop." Back to the Raptor. "Woman! Will you shut yer yapper! I'm tryna drive." Back to Jello Kelly. "Ooooooooooh nooooo, my blooood." He's in his own little world. He likes kids, so sue him.

Kain steps beside Brian, Kameron and Bai-Chan, holding up the check with a broad smile on his face, on ehand laid placidly against the back of Brian's shoulder. It's like the Devil's hand just laying down there to smother the angel screaming for Brian to run as fast as he can and not look back. Kain's photographer backs up, trying not to tread over people laying on the floor or trip over a table. He crouches, angling his camera before checking a light-meter down at his side, adjusting the camer for the interior lighting, "Alright, just a little closer together…" He murmurs distractedly, tweaking the zoom and focus, "Perfect." There's a series of three quick snaps, the zoom and focus adjusted again, and two more snaps. "That's it, painless." He notes with a charming quirk of his lips.

Kain slaps his hand gently against Brian's shoulder, then gives it a gentle squeeze before leaning in and murmuring, "You jes' keep your nose clean, an' you ain't gonna have no more troubles. Mister Linderman protects his investments." Smiling broadly, Kain leans back and takes a step away, glancing over to Brian as he holds out the check to him. "This, Mister Fulk," his tone shifts entirely, more business-like, "is yours, for the maintenance and upkeep of th' Lighthouse."

But, but she was going to move! Kameron stops shot when her hand isn't released, and she lets out a little squeak when she's pulled over. Noo, mah freedom! Of course Joe's busy binging on cookies, so Prince will substitute himself there, sitting practically on Kammy's feet with his body pressed against her legs. Sure, one big happy family, if you ignore the awkward, semi-uncomfortable-with-the-cameras expression on Kammy's half-hidden face. Taking a deep breath, she instead squeezes her eyes shut behind her shades, flinching slightly at the camera's snapping away. Eight hundred thousand. Jeez.

Blink. Bai-Chan's bright smile has vanished by now as the camera takes its pictures, the young boy standing with his hand clasped with Brian and expression blank and blinking. The ordeal is over with reasonably quickly, anyway, Bai-Chan withdrawing his hand from Brian's to rub at his eyes, giving up on dragging him off for the adventures of raptor and his sordid romances. For now.

He bares his teeth once at Kameron's dog, as he tends to do, before slipping past the blind woman to go and resume playtime. Hopefully, some characters are still alive, and Bai-Chan sits down nearby Flint with folded, lanky legs. He managed to steal back a fork on his way, too, holding it like one might hold a dagger before offering it to Flint with a jell-o smeared hand. Solemnly.

With two fingers and at humb, Rocket grasps the crust of one pizza slice and pulls it free of the rest of the pie. He has a napkin spread over his other palm, and he uses it to cut short the strings of melted cheese, keeping the whole piece spread flat on its way up to his gnawing maw. "Thanks," he chirps first, before sinking his teeth in. Either the arrogance of youth or the awareness of his own insignificance allow him to take the grown ups' conspiracies and photography in stride.

Putting on a big fake smile, after the picture. Brian releases Bai-Chan's hand and pulls in the woman beside him even closer as he leans in to whisper something softly to her. With that, his arm slides off of her going to find her hand and give it one more squeeze. With that, he turns on Kain. "Mister Zarek? If I could have a word with you, outside?" And then the two and the accompanying circus, make a hasty exit.

Flint accepts that fork with a sober expression, sniffling and blinking his eyes as he just stares at Bai-Chan for a few moments and then tucks that fork away into his blazer and picking back up Kelly's arm, jamming it into the front of the car before nodding sagely to Bai-Chan. This…will be a story to rival Passions or Days of our Lives. It'll be called…The Raptor and the Jello Bitch. - Or something. Not a circus but…equally as important.

February 20th: Be Unrepentant
February 20th: Moondance
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