Participants:
| Scene Title | Like a Tool |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | In another state, Magnes empathizes with Peyton for what he assumes is the problem, but she doesn't want anything to do with it. |
| Date | February 4, 2011 |
It's early in the morning, and there's a black 1967 Impala near the beach. On his way home finally, he's decided to watch the sun rise, having changed out of his expensive suit and into something more comfortable. He's in a long black buttoned up suit jacket, a pair of neatly fitting blue jeans, and some red Chucks. He's standing in the sand and looking out over the sea, hands in his pockets while he simply enjoys the lonely chill of this particular morning.
This beach isn't far from where Peyton Whitney has been staying since fleeing New York City — The cape is Faye's home, Neal's home that is starting, slowly, to feel like it could be her home, too. Manhattan was the only city she ever called home, but more and more, it has become a place where bad things happen, where she gets hurt, where she loses people. Where she's been lost.
A face from New York is not what she's looking for — as she walks Von along the beach, her eyes behind sunglasses only give the most cursory of glances toward the man; anyone can be a threat, after all. The last year of her life has taught her that much. She keeps her distance in order to pass Magnes, and it's only when she's passing that she recognizes him.
A soft gasp is caught and carried away from her by the chilly coastal wind, too soft to hear. Her hand tightens on Von's leash. Her mouth sets in a firm line.
She keeps walking — pretending not to have seen him.
Magnes turns at the sound of a grasp, jumping slightly. He tilts his head at her, and the sunglasses seem to do a good job of disguising her identity, as his look is indeed not one of recognition. "Oh, hello. Are you watching the sun rise too?"
Peyton can't help but turn a little, the wind picking up her hair and whipping it around her face before she brings a gloved hand up to tuck it into her coat, rewrapping a lavender and gray scarf around as well as she walks. The dog, deaf as he is, didn't hear Magnes' voice, but now sees the young man and suddenly veers in that direction; the sudden change in path takes Peyton by surprise, and her leash slips from her hand. Luckily, Von's not an escape artist; he's much more interested in greeting Magnes with tail wags and barks, paws coming up to bounce off Magnes' knees before the young dog starts turning in circles then bellying down in the sand to invite the man to play.
Magnes crouches down, smiling and reaching out to scratch the dog behind the ears. "I always wanted a dog." he says with a slight smile, then signs lightly. "It's so nice out here. I just learned that I have two sisters, and now I have to return to New York and face life again."
Her Jackie-O-style sunglasses are pushed up off her face as Peyton jogs across the sand toward Von, crouching to pick up his leash while casting suspicious looks at the young man sharing random information with what he seems to think is a stranger.
"So you're not here to try to get me to come back? No one sent you after me?" she says quietly, curling fingers through the loop in the leash before standing up again and squinting at the man.
She crosses her arms, dark eyes narrowing as she watches his face carefully.
"Peyton! You're… not in New York?" Magnes asks with a bit of confusion, an eyebrow raised. Apparently he didn't even know that much. "I'm here visiting my father, he lives near here. It's good to see you, things have been a little crazy in New York. I'm not really involved with, well, the 'groups' anymore, though I keep in touch with certain people. I'm trying to buckle down and do something with my life, even if there's a giant invisible dome in the middle of the city now."
Reaching down to pet Von, Peyton chuckles softly. "No, I've been gone a while. And I saw that on the news. I hope no one you know got hurt. Just one more thing, right? It's always something, isn't it." The 'question' isn't really a question at all.
She shivers as the wind picks up again, and she glances to the foreboding clouds above. "You should meet your sisters. I just met my half-brother, actually." She nods in the general direction that Faye's home lies in.
"Yeah, I'll try to meet them." Magnes unbuttons his coat, sliding it off to offer it over to her, revealing a long-sleeved buttoned up white shirt under it. "It is always something, but that's the world we live in. My former fictional world is now a reality, so I probably adapt better than most. Wear this until I leave."
Peyton's dressed for winter in gloves, scarf, and a thick coat already, so she chuckles and shakes her head when he offers the coat. "Don't freeze to death on my account. It's not like I haven't been in colder, right? It's just that ocean breeze. It looks like it'll snow i a bit, not that it sticks much here," she says, dark eyes glancing once more at the clouds, before back to him.
"I thought maybe you were sent here to try to get me to come back to the city," she says softly, uncertainty and sadness tinging the words. "I guess that's arrogant of me, huh? To think someone would send you after me."
"You saw me, Magnes J. Varlane, and thought someone would send me after an attractive girl, my one known weakness other than comic books?" Magnes laughs at the idea, batting a hand dismissively in her direction, then starts pulling his coat back on. "That would probably be the easiest escape of your entire life."
The clairvoyant laughs lightly, tugging at the leash when Von starts to bark at a seagull. The fox-eared dog sits and whines slightly, then lies down and puts his muzzle on his paws, watching the bird and thumping his tail. "I didn't mean to like kidnapp me or anything. More to try to convince me to come back."
She turns to watch the water breaking on the shore and shrugs her shoulders. "I haven't decided if I'm going back," she admits quietly. "It's the only home I ever had, before coming here. Unless you count a month in rehab in Utah, but I don't. And you know what? This is way more peaceful. I don't miss New York at all, and this last week just makes me think I made the right decision, all the more."
"Peyton, you're an amazing person. I remember when I first saw you, when you were kidnapped. I felt so helpless that I couldn't just fly in and save you…" Magnes, after buttoning his coat, walks over to place his hands on the sides of his arms, looking down at her. "If this is making you happy, then you should stay. Don't come back out of any obligation. But if you do come back, I guarantee you this. You're always welcome as my friend, and I won't let anyone pressure you into doing something you don't want to. You're young, I'm young, we shouldn't have the weight of the world on our shoulders, and it's not fair that you have to be driven away from your home because people think you're some sort of tool."
The clairvoyant's dark eyes focus on the ground, studying her tennis shoes as he speaks, a flush coming over her cheeks as Magnes sings her praises, but then the last words have her looking up sharply, brows knitting together and she takes a step back.
"I never said anyone used me as a tool," she says coolly. "Unless you mean the other kind of tool. Either way, that's fucking great to know that people think that of me." Her words are bitter and she turns away to resume walking.
"I don't know what anyone thinks of you, I was never really involved with what you were doing." Magnes walks up to follow her, looking apologetic as he explains. "I'm talking about you in relation to me. People always call me or show up at my door to do something, but I don't see those same people sending a Christmas card, or showing up on my birthday. I just thought that maybe you felt like I do, which is why you were worried about people dragging you back."
Her eyes fill with tears as she continues to walk, not slowing down as he follows her, but suddenly moving several feet away. "Go home," Peyton murmurs, her voice cracking. "And don't follow me." It's a little immature — it's not like if someone wanted to know where she lives, Faye's house isn't a matter of public record. Peyton's not a fugitive. She's not in hiding.
She's just a runaway, of sorts.
"Peyton… I don't have to go home yet, if you need someone to talk to." Magnes offers a bit sympathetically, but he stops following, only watching her walk now. "I like to think I'm your friend, Peyton. I just want to know what to do that'll help you most."
"I don't need your help, Magnes," Peyton says, voice thick with tears as she turns to look back at him. "I came here to be alone, away from all the things that happened to me in that city. I don't want to talk about them, I don't want someone to try to empathize with me, I don't want to have to re-see all of the things I've seen and relive the crappy memories. I don't want to remember it, and I don't want to be reminded of any of it — the only good to come of it was my mother and my brother, and I have them with me here. They're all I need. The rest is just…"
She reaches up to wipe her teary face with her gloved hands. "It's just the past. I don't need any of it."
With a sniffle, she wipes her nose and turns away again to resume her walk. "Travel safe, Magnes. Please don't tell anyone where I am."
"I won't tell anyone… I'll miss you, Peyton." Magnes slides his hands into his pockets, frowning, then turns and starts heading back to his car. "I hope you don't mind if I come see you when I visit my father again…"
"You didn't even know I was gone," Peyton points out to the promise to miss her, and she shakes her head. "I gotta go. Be safe. Don't get yourself killed, all right?"
But she doesn't wait for the answer, breaking into a jog and heading off the beach to the road above it, the red dog running gleefully alongside of his mistress.