Participants:
| Scene Title | Little Old Lady Who? |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Brian and Delia have a few sips of brandy before their arduous climb, unfortunately neither of them have a nun or a Swiss mountaineer. |
| Date | November 7, 2010 |
Firearms and alcohol are never a good combination.
A pair of eyes slowly raise over the surface of the counter, staring wide and open at the object set across from it. Across the vast space of smooth surface rests a full glass of brandy. With a lot of ice. The grey eyes encompass the glass in wonder and surely enough, a hand soon crosses the great divide and plucks the glass from its safe perch. Returning with the captive in tow, the glass is tilted down slightly to allow the owner of the eyes a little indulgence.
With a sharp hiss Brian does a 180 and slumps against the counter on the Lighthouse floor. Brandy held tightly in one hand, he slowly lowers it to rest on the floor. His heavy lids slide down a bit before jerking back up. His free hand flings out to grasp at the object precariously positioned near his legs. The double barrel shotgun slumps at Brian's jabbing touch, the young man quickly try to discern if he remembered to turn on the safe—
BANG
The flash lights up the Lighthouse kitchen as the slugs embed themselves in kitchen counter. Brian himself is watching the shotgun with a sort of wary confusion. Until finally, "Oops." Good thing children don't live here anymore.
November seventh, the last day before everything goes to shit. There's only a few hours until midnight, and then who knows what will happen. And Brian is bringing the new age in with a bang, literally. The safety is clicked on as Brian sighs and melts against the counter. "Fuck my liiifffe…"
It certainly was a trial getting to the island, especially for a young woman with no registration card and a warrant out for her arrest, but somehow Delia managed. Utilizing the network, she managed to find a teleporter able to carry her over just after sundown.
Dressed in her shearling coat, blue scarf, toque, and mittens, she ambles up to the front entrance and pulls off one of her mittens to timidly knock on the heavy door. The startling bang jolts her out of her fear and without hesitation she pushes open the door and rushes into the foyer, looking for whatever or whoever fired the gun.
"H-hello?" her voice echoes through the barren orphanage. She wasn't expecting it to be so empty. Even with the rumors that the children were finally gone.
One would think that a drunken Brian would point the gun first at an unexpected guest. That when he knows that he is definitely going to be attacked soon, he would have his weapon ready and pointed at an intruder.
One is wrong.
The glass comes up first from behind the counter, it is held aloft for a long moment either as if it was a periscope scanning the new entry or a wonderful way of saying hello. A quick glassy thud has the beverage plopped on the counter as a man is pulled up to survey whoever just came in. Eyes coming first like a frightened child Brian slowly brings himself up to look at Delia blankly.
"Are you the army?" He asks suspiciously, looking over to the microwave clock. "You're early. I'm not ready to be raided yet." And with that he drops back down into his perch against the counter. But he forgets his glass..
"God fucking damnit…" Comes a soft mutter
"No, I'm not…" is the quiet answer to his query. With a slight tilt to her head, she stalks toward the counter and picks up the glass, sniffing it before holding it down to the man on the floor. There's a grimace on her face that might be indicative of some sort of disdain for what's inside of it, but she passes no judgment. Everyone is entitled to celebrate the apocalypse in their own way.
After the glass is handed off, she drops down to the floor in a crouch beside the man. "I didn't expect to find you like this… I figured you would be getting ready to leave. At least for now… I came to help." A wane smile is delivered with the promise of aid, not unfriendly, just wary. "My name's Delia, I run the clinic at Gun Hill."
With the introduction made, she slips down a little further to rest her back against the cupboard and finally sit. There was no invitation to accept, so she helped herself to the space, figuring there was more than enough to go around. "I was wondering if you wanted to pack up a few things that the kids might want to find in their new place… if they can't come home. You know… sort of bring home to them."
Reaching up to accept the glass, Brian gives a thankful yet sad smile as the woman passes it off. "Well I'm glad you're not the army." He murmurs softly. Before grinning a little, "Though that would be a little bit of a relief, if you were the army and the vision we got was a little off and the army was just bringing us a fruit basket not a raid." The glass is brought to his lips and tipped back. Another sharp hiss is the answer the brandy's taste gets.
"Someone gave me this a long time ago.. This bottle. And I decided since this place is going up, I might as well drink all off it." Uh huh. Another sip is taken, another screwed up face is given and the glass is put down. "Hi Delia.. I'm Brian. Sorry that you found me like this.. I'm a little drunk." He admits because she probably couldn't tell that on her own. "I am ready to leave, actually. I'm already gone. I'm a replicator.. you see. So. I can be gone and still be here. Which I am. I figured I'd try to hide some things, move some things, or maybe just give the raiders a nice southern welcome." A big toothy smile is given at that before it completely dissipates.
He looks up at her offer of aide. "You a teleputter? I.. I didn't want everything to be gone. That'll make the army suspicious.. or something. I just wanted it to look like we found out last minute there was going to be riots in the city and left. Or that the kids were gone camping.. I don't know. My kids are used to losing things." He admits, in a much more somber tone.
"They don't have to lose everything though… A few changes of clothes for everyone, their favorite toys or books… Maybe three or four things per kid?" Delia cuts in with a shrug. She's already lost most of everything herself, only with a bit of careful planning has she managed to keep a hold of some of it. "And no, I'm not a teleporter — I'm not anything special."
His ability though, "You're a replicator? H- I mean wh- I mean how… How where are you really? Do you all know each other? If I met another you… would you know me?" The questions actually start making her head spin and she shakes the confusion away, pointing an expectant look his way. Her cornflower blue eyes, offset by bright red hair seem a little piercing, even in the dim light.
"I just, what happens when you split up? I always wish there were more of me… especially when I have too many patients at once. It's sort of hard to keep focus on one when more need you. If I could make more of me, it'd be pretty ideal. You know?" Of course he does. He can do it.
"We've only got a couple hours left. And I'm kinda drunk." He reminds her. "Think we could get all that shit out of here that quick? I'm also scared we're being watched. You probably shouldn't be here." He frowns then, pushing the glass back over to her. "Can you take this away from me, maybe drinking before the apocalypse wasn't a great idea.." A big sigh is given. "It's just.." The second word sounds rather emotional. A sound that Brian hasn't made in a long time. Fulk did it plenty of times but Winters? This sound is borderline whiny. "I've put so much work into this place you know? I've given these kids a home and.." It sounds like he might just cry soon. But then he recognizes how interested she is in his power. And that might just brighten him up a little bit.
"Yes I would know you. I try to describe it as like a hive mind. I've heard of other replicators who are kind of dumb.. but my power is awesome. I am in several different places.. And while I'm talking to you now, I'm also taking care of a baby, locking a door, cleaning a weapon, and… pooping." He frowns a little bit at the last word as if he didn't want to say it but the brandy made him do it. "It's all me. But different bodies. I don't call it them, or they. Because it's all purely me. This may not be the exact body that came out of my mothers womb, but it's completely and utterly the same every way…" Pbbt. "What's the word…? Genitaliacl.. no. Genetically. Genetically. So like. What's the difference, right?"He slumps a little bit. "It's really handyy…"
"Tasha… She said Mister Lazzaro was having DoEA look the other way when I talked to her." The redhead talked to a lot of people before finally getting to Doyle. She takes the glass and holds it between her hands, eying it as though it might be a good idea. It is the evening of destruction after all. "So I don't know if you're being watched really closely."
Though there was that one new article in the paper this morning. Fascinating break for evolved rights made by one of the girl's personal saviors. Sure, he arrested her and vilified her, but he was nice about doing it.
There's a twitch to the young woman's eyebrows as she takes a tentative sip from the glass. If he has anything to catch, she possibly has a vaccine for it but that's not what she's worried about anyway. She shudders violently as that single small mouthful burns down her throat and warms her from the inside out. "oh my.." her voice is nothing but a high pitched squeak. "…that's good?"
She clears her throat loudly and then looks back at him with something of a crooked smile, "There's a Ferry teleporter, he's going to help me take a couple of boxes over to my boyfriend's house. I'll get them to a safer place from there… Can I ask you something? Why are you staying? Why don't you leave too? What if they hurt you. This you."
A lazy smile climbs up his lips as she takes a sip. "It really burns right? Like really. I dare you to take like a huge mouthful." Says the responsible adult in charge of taking care of many orphaned evolved children. He goes to take the glass back regardless of what he just said and takes another sip of his own. Returning the glass to her he lets out a long aggravated breath. "Burns so much."
"Well I guess we should start grabbing things then." He doesn't move. "Umm.. I have some.. guns." One finger points languidly at the shotgun by his knee. "Downstairs too.. I don't want the government to take them all.. Seems like a waste. If the teleporter can take some of those… that would be greeeat." His head sort of sways to the side before he jerks himself back to an erect state. "Okay.. How do I get a hold of you? Should I call eileen…"
"Bum bum.. come on eileen, I swear I'm not mean.. something something~…"
With his breaking into song finished, he returns back to reality to answer Delia's question. "Did you know that pizza delivery drivers get in like three times more accidents than normal drivers? D'you know why? It's because they drive like three times more than normal people. Not that they suck, they just have more of an opportunity to crash. Turns out if you have a bunch of bodies walking around, you're more prone to.. dyyying." He gives a sloppy and tired smile. "I've died plenty off times. Tonight.. or tomorrow won't be anything new."
"What do I get if I take a huge mouthful? Will you try to keep safe?" Assuming that he's going to agree, she takes a large mouthful and the expression that flies to her face is one that really deserves a picture. Too bad there's no cameras. Big, round, watery eyes that are accompanied by cheeks puffed out to contain the last quarter of the glass. Her lips are puckered into a water tight knot and it's pretty evident that she's abstaining from swallowing, this part burns quite enough and it doesn't burn good.
With tears trickling from the corners of her eyes, she gulps down three times. Delia swallows all of the brandy in her mouth before nearly dropping the glass on the floor. "Haaaaaawwwwwwwww~" The long quivering breath of pain has her practically doubling over. "Dude.." she ekes out through her agony, "..now you have to stay safe…"
"I didn't think you were going to do it!" Brian says in an elated state of shock. His lips are pulled upwards in hysterical amusement at the fact that she actually did it, his eyes wide and full of joy. "I haven't been that excited about a girl swallowing something since…" His lips close tightly and quickly, pursing for a moment. "Sorry. I'm drunk." He goes to pick up the glass, his smile returning as he watches her doubled over state.
"Have you never had brandy before? That was a really bad idea. But ok. Your implied challenge is accepted!" Tipping the glass into his own mouth Brian gets his own mouthful. He tries a different method, rather than slowing the inevitable pain he gulps it down instantly. The glass is all but slammed down on the ground as he lets out his own long wheeze, curling forward. "Ohfuckmee" He groans, eyes starting to water himself. "Fuuuck me." Glancing to the glass he lets out another cough. "Bet you can't finish it."
"Too.. too young to drink legally…" The tall woman squeaks, still trying to recover from that last mouthful. "Dad'd kill me…After he kills me for running away…" Since she's not a replicator it's anyone guess as to how many lives she expects to lose due to her father's swift brand of justice. "Besides, I don't have any ID anyway."
Then there's the glass, right back at her with yet another mouthful and one more dare. "If I finish it… I don't have to touch a gun." That might be the safest thing anyway, she's prone to tripping over her own two feet. Pounding one fist to the middle of her chest Tarzan style, she grabs the glass and psychs herself up to finish the last of it. "Okay… okay… I can do this.. I can do this…" One swig is all it takes, the ice hitting her along her teeth and upper lip as she drains the last of the liquor in the glass. At this rate, she might end up passed out on the floor to wait for the army when they invade in the morning.
"Haaaaaa~ Haaaaawt~ Buuurrrnnnzzzz~" Whatever she's trying to say, it's horribly off key.
"Oh my god. Oh my god." Brian is now laughing hysterically, keeling forward as he watches her with much amusement. "You could have said no, oh my god you could have said no." Reaching up to grasp the counter firmly, Brian tries to pull himself up. Attempt number one is a bust, and just makes him laugh some more.
"Is your dad a Ferry? Oh fuck. You're underaged? Am I gonna get in trouble and called irresponsible because I let you drink?" He seems very worried, yet still somehow manages to keep laughing between worried sentiments. "Okay, okay, okay. Okayokayokay. No more drinking for you. I am not going to get in trouble with the Ferrys and have them thinking I can't take care of my k-kids. So. You have to sober up missy!" One accusatory finger swings out at Delia, as if making her out to be a lifelong alcoholic. And then more laughter. "Try standing up real fast. That's the best part."
"Wait.. Wait.. Why did you run away?" He looks at her sidelong before giving another question, but this time in a very understanding and confident tone. "Are you in the circus??? I knew from the second I saw you." He turns to face forward to signify he is saying what he thought earlier. "Yeahp, that girl is definitely not the army. She's the circus."
Another moment passes, and without waiting for retaliation, Brian's head swings back into the counter with a large THUD. "My fiancee broke up with me. This is a bad year." He grunts, motioning to the lighthouse. "Poop."
With her head craned back to look up at the lighthouse keeper, Delia tries to follow along with what he's saying. One syllable answers that seem perfectly suited to Mister Flint Deckard is what she finds herself giving Brian. "No. Yes. No… Uhm… No?"
Taking his suggestion as advice, she turns and reaches her hands up to the top of the counter and pulls herself up, only to stumble backward into the sink. The crack as her back hits the counter is much quieter than the man's laughter but still audible enough to sound quite painful. Bending forward, she grips at her back and actually teeters before falling in slow motion back to the floor.
"Ooowww…" The whimpered complaint of pain sounds quite pathetic, to be perfectly honest, but she's too busy rubbing the spot free of pain to worry about it. "I thought you said it was the best? It's not.. I got dizzy…"
"I meant for me." He chuckles. "Best part for me." He stands a little confused for a moment staring at her. Not really able to discern which answer went to which question but then.. "Oh okay." And again he's smiling. Walking out of the kitchen he makes his way towards the stairs. "The kids dorms are up here." He stops short in front of the stairwell, looking up the impossible amount of steps that seem so small and meaningless when sober.
"How are we ever going to get up there…" Brian asks, a little dumbfounded in pure shock and fear. But then he forgets and is turning around. "If you're not in the circus, then why did you run away? Any kid who runs away is required to at least spend a day with the circus. I bet you didn't even do that." He's disappointed. Very disappointed.
Hobbling behind him, Delia is rubbing the spot on her back to try to either get rid of the pain or ward off a bruise. Whichever one, it's not working. When Delia gazes up the stairwell and the dizzying amount of stairs contained therein, her jaw drops and she turns that dumbfounded expression toward Brian. "You have to be a Switzerlandian mountain climber to get up those… or a nun…" Delia isn't either of those things.
The questions have her dumbfounded expression turning to something a little weaker and downcast. "I ran away because my dad died in his vision and I knew that if I stayed there, everything would happen exactly how it did. Without me to protect, he can run away instead of taking a bullet that I should."
"Where the fuck are we gonna fina a switzerlindian nun!?" Brian asks in sheer frustration, taking the dramatic moment to slump against the nearby wall. He looks vividly distressed at the obstacle set before them. Before slightly turning. "Maybe if we like.. zig zag.. or walk up backwards. It will be either… Eitherer." Ffff."Easier." There. He got it out. Once the topic delves into more serious matters Brian grows a little more silent.
"My fiancee broke up with me because of the same thing, she said. She wants to protect me.. So I don't die." He pauses. Giving Delia a look, a look of cameraderie as if they are both in agreement on the thing he is about to say. "And come on, I'm the bombest muthafucka in the whirdywhirr…" Maybe he made that last word up. "But.. we better start climbing these stairs before we start having a vicarious argument with those other people.. between us." That made sense right? "Here we go."
He doesn't move.
"Do you think I should go back to my apartment then? I didn't like… leave for good… just…" The redhead falls silent as she slides backward, on her rump, up the stairs. It's probably the safest method of travel, definitely the most padded. "People suck… visions suck harder."
She's possibly about six or seven steps up before she stops for a rest. "Wow… switzerlandian nun climbing is hard." A long sigh follows after that and she leans her head tiredly against the wall enclosing the stairs on one side. "You know what would probably help? You should yodel. Like one of those dogs that carry the little kegs of brandy around. Oh hey! You do carry brandy around!!"
"I don't know. Just don't keep the ring if you're not going to marry me, okay. Go legit or go home." He screws up his face as if recognizing that he has no idea what he's saying right now, but forges ahead anyway. He doesn't sit, just takes slow sideways steps, leaning against the railing heavily. When she suggests he yodel, Brian flips a very defensive and agitated tone back. "You should yodel." Some people..
So then he starts yodeling. At least he tries it out, flirts with the idea, but ultimately decides that Delia is very drunk and is making poor choices with her suggestions of what he, the lucid one should do. He tries it one more time. But that's it! He frowns deeply at her accusation and as he takes another step flings back another defense. "At least I don't carry herpes around."
A beat.
"I'm sorry I said you had herpes, I didn't mean it."
"little old lady who~"
They say it was impossible, that nothing on Earth could be worse than Delia's singing voice. They were wrong. So so very very wrong. Delia's yodeling voice sounds like a cross between a braying hound dog, a humpback whale, and the squeal of a sow in heat.
The military might come just to shut her up. FRONTLINE may even be dispatched for the purpose. She keeps going.
"littleoldladywho~ li'lolladyhoo~" She lasts much longer than Brian does, probably because she thinks she's good. Her brandy soaked brain is addled enough that she thinks she's doing him a favor.
It's just the sound they needed, it's the sound that drives Brian to quickly scale the stairs. Yes he trips three or four times, but catches himself and eventually reaches the second floor. With a pant and a gasp he motions to the rooms and dorms ahead. "We don't have much longer.. Let's move that shiiiit!"