Lost and Found


abby_icon.gif hagan_icon.gif

Scene Title Lost and Found
Synopsis Hagan comes across Abby and lends her some help in his own strange way. Much awkwardness ensues.
Date Dec 14, 2008

Central Park and Hagans residence

Central park sucks when your cold. even more when no one will help you cause you look a little feral, dirty and unkempt. Like a homeless person. Not like a bible thumping bartender with usually better hygeine. Just a little rest and she'll keep on going. Head to the Library since it was closer than home or work. Hands dug deep in pockets, feet together and her head pulled down into the neck of her jacket like a turtle trying to bury it's head.

Hagan is definitely in better shape than Abby. At least…for the moment. His cough rattles as he stands in line at a hot dog stand and has to find a way to politely spit out what he coughed up. Once he does, he makes a face, rubs his cheeks and steps forward towards the stand. "Em. Right. The biggest one. No, not -that- one. The other one. Right. Good. With that cabbage. Sauerkraut. Whatever. Just give me loads of it." He coughs again and digs out money. He may not notice Abby, but the loud Irishman is probably noticeable to her.

Familiar voice. god her brain could run faster right now. Sad turkey guy… Graphics something.. O'Sullivan? "O'Sullivan…" He could help her. He could help her and she wouldn't telekinetically whack him for it. Up she goes from the bench, but doesn't move towards him. Cause, well, dirty scary looking women in the park.

Hagan buys the hot dog and a can of pop that he ends up dropping into the pocket of his jacket. He turns around and takes a large bite out of it. As he's chewing, he happens to spot the dirty woman looking at him. "What? I don't have any fecking change, all right?" No, he doesn't recognize her. At least not right away.

Well, there's a wince from Abby. "Turkey sucks when your alone on thanksgiving o'Sullivan" hoping it jogs his memory. "Or when your helping someone and they hurt you instead"

Hagan takes another bite and chews a rather too-large bit. He squints at her. He thinks he recognizes her, but doesn't want to admit it. "Oh fuck," a beat. "…you're the bartender. What the hell happened to you?"

"Alot of things. I'm really cold and I don't have my cellphone, do you think I could borrow yours to call my roommate?" She's not going into detail not right here, right now. "Promise it'll only be a moment. He's worried sick about me" Abby still keeps her hands in her pocket. 'Promise I won't beat you up with my mind"

"I didn't realize you could," says Hagan. He looks a little deer in the headlights-ish. He glances left, then right, then moves towards her. The overladen dog is offered to her first, then a beaten-up cell phone. It looks like it's been dropped on many a bar floor during drunken benders.

The hot dog is refused, politely. "Thank you but.. if i ate now, i'd probably throw up and i'm really… sick of hot dogs" The phone is taken though, quickly turned in her hand so she can dial the number for Teo. A handspan of rings, no answer. Voicemail though and there's a quick "Teo. She turned me loose. I'm in central park, do you think you could come and get me. i'll be on the north side" she rattles off a cross street before ending the call and handing it back over. "Thanks. I appreciate it. Drink on me when i'm back at work"

Hagan exhales and eyes her as she leaves the message. "Turned you loose? What the fuck, Abigail." He fumbles, pulls out cigarettes. "Fuck that shit. You're not standing around in the park all day. I'll get you back to your place. C'mon." He takes another bite of the hot dog and then tosses it into the garbage.

Another wince, but that's from the language. "I can wait, really. If I can make it through brooklyn in the dead of night with every crack dealer watching me I can wait for Teo. I just.. I don't want.. to Impose" But even standing around the park and waiting for Teo isn't looking appealing. "I can pay you back once I get my wallet, or i'm sure Teo would pay you"

"Jaysus. What kind of arse do you think I am?" Hagan actually looks a bit offended. He pulls from the cigarette. "What the hell do you need to pay me back for?" He looks around, then back to her. "You can't stand out here in the fucking cold looking like that. Now, if you don't trust me it's one thing. But otherwise, c'mon. I'll put you up in a bloody hotel if you'd rather."

"I don't.. it's not that. I just… It's been a long few days okay" The brunette shakes her head and rattles off an address in the bronx. Presumably where she lives. "can we uh, can we get a coffee first? I'd die for a coffee or something hot"

Hagan is smoking rather furiously. He doesn't like being a good samaritan, but on the other hand, he isn't a cold-hearted bastard. He may be abrasive, but he's not cruel, especially not to a stranded fellow Evolved. "You can have some of the shite the vendors sell, or I can make you a cup of something decent back at my place."

'Your place close?" please don't say Brooklyn. She has to trust someone, and so far, she hasn't seen anything really untrustworthy of the irishman.

"Upper West. We'll take a cab. C'mon." Hagan tosses out the cigarette and nods towards the edge of the park and the road where cabs are lined up.

"Closer than the Bronx. I'll take it. I can't afford to be picky. Thanks Sullivan, I relaly.. appreciate it, more than you can fathom I think" She shoves her hands back into her pocket after calling teo's phone and leaving a message with the address Hagan gives her. The promise that she's okay and no, it's not the address she was kept at. Beside him the brunette plods, flexing her toes in her shoes to keep blood moving. "Was kidnapped"

"I gathered that. If you feel like telling me, that can wait until we're back at my place." Paranoid? A little bit. Hagan looks around, then leads her towards one of the parked cars. Once inside, he gives the address. Hey, they both might look a bit rough, but he can afford a cab and that's enough for the cabbie.

It isn't long before they've stopped in front of a nice building. Not doorman-nice, but one step down from that. "Right. C'mon." He heads towards the door and pulls out his keys to unlock the front.

The bartender just nods. "Sure. I owe you an explanation, much as I can say" The warmth of the cab when she's in is a blessing, and by the time they get to his building, she's started to pink back up and somewhat reluctant to get out. But she does, hunched in on herself again, following behind her customer, head down, eyes down.

Hagan shoulders open the door and holds it for her. He nods towards the elevator. It's a nice lobby area. He must make some okay money to afford to live in one of the few nice buildings still standing or not irradiated. He hits the elevator call button and when it comes, he hits the button for the 14th floor. "I…think my ex might've left some shirts and stuff." He looks suddenly uncomfortable with his own charity.

"I smell that bad?" Blue eyes look over at him, and there's a purposeful sniff as if trying to find some way to ease an uncomfortable situation for the both of them.

"No, but you're probably freezing if you've been outside all night," says Hagan. He avoids eye contact as he walks into the hallway and fumbles with his keys. He stops in front of number 1425 and sticks a key in the lock.

Hagan's place is a decent sized bachelor apartment, but still a bachelor. One wall is entirely windows that look out over the partially ruined city. There's a large covered balcony that currently has all the windows shut. The patio furniture out there is covered in a thick layer of frost. It doesn't smell all that smoky, suggesting he takes his chain smoking into the balcony-area at least. There's an LCD TV that hangs on the wall, a small brown leather sofa, a galley kitchen and a door open onto a rather large bathroom with modern fixtures. One corner of the room is taken up by a large desk with an expensive looking computer set up with dual widescreen monitors and a drawing tablet. There's piles of colour swatches and glossy ad proofs.

The room is l-shaped and around the corner on a partially raised section is an unmade queen bed with a ruffled white duvet. The furniture doesn't exactly all work together, but it's all good quality. There's a few dishes in the sink and a few dusty surfaces, but other than that it's not in horrid shape, especially for a bachelor. Especially for him.

He flicks on the lights and shrugs off his jacket, then moves to switch on the electric fireplace built into one wall. "Right. Coffee was it?"

'Something hot. Even just water" Trying to make herself as least an imposition as she possibly can. Though, she immediately beelines for the fake fireplace after kicking off the boots. Not wanting to tramp all over his place.

Hagan nods, then moves into the kitchen. If Abby looks in, she'll see him working an expensive-looking espresso machine like a pro. It isn't long before she's got an Americano with a whisp of steamed milk on top. "You want sugar?" Well. He is European.

"No, no I like it just plain. Thank you. Very much" It's still quite awkward. 'That uhh, a beautiful computer you have"

"What? Oh. Well, I work at home sometimes. Do some freelancing." Hagan's tone is dismissive, as if he doesn't think much of his own work. He goes back into the kitchen to make himself a drink. There's the sound of banging as he taps the old grinds out of the wand so he can put some more in. "Hungry? I think I have some type of cheese. Maybe grapes."

"starving. Um, the grapes are fine. Anything except.. sandwiches and hot dogs" The smell of the drink woo's her over, carefully picking across the apartment. "You saw the news? About the thing, that happened in the church?"

"Uh. No. Should I have? I can't keep track of all the horrible shite that goes down in this city." Hagan paws through the fridge and comes up with a plate of cheese and grapes. He walks into the living area and hands it to her. He himself takes a seat on the couch and sips his coffee.

'Doesn't really matter. Someone.. knew what I could do and took me from the hospital. When I couldn't fix what they wanted me to, they let me go last night" The couch is eye'd, the coat she' wearing eyes and after a moment or two's process of putting plate down and cup, taking off the jacket and putting it by the door, she feels comfortable enough to sit on his couch in her sweatpants and sweatshirt without getting the couch dirty.

"I see," Hagan clears his throat. "Look…" he makes a strange face, like he's not really sure he wants to say what he's about to. "I'm…like you." He coughs. Though it might be to half cover up what he just said. "I'm…not going to turn you in or anything, all right?"

"I figured. That's not.. at all why i'm.. uh twitchy. I mean, nobody gets out of old lucy's that fast. Had to be something" Abby watches him, cradling the cup in her hand loosely for the warmth while balancing the plate on her knees

"You remembered that, uh?" Hagan frowns and sips his coffee. "So why're you twitchy then?" See how he just avoided telling her what he does?

and watch Abby avoid telling him directly what it is she can do. "I'm a little on the dirty side, your a customer, i'm the lady who serve you alcohol, i've just been held hostage for a few days by a hostile and pretty homicidal woman who kept me chained to a bed and unceremoniously turned out in the middle of the night into rapist and crack dealer central. I think that qualifies as allowed to be twitchy, wouldn't you?"

Hagan wrinkles his nose, sips his coffee and murmurs, "I suppose. You want a shower? You can have a shower. The water gets very hot." He nods towards the bathroom.

'Maybe, after I eat. hot shower seems really.. really good right now. Thanks for you know, helping. After the last time you helped someone, I wasn't sure you'd help this time. Really serious, no smashing you with my mind. Not that kind of woman, but I do owe you a couple rounds at the bar"

"What, you owe me for being a bloody human being? Listen. I'm not some selfish bastard who only does things in his own interest…" Hagan pauses a beat and motions with his hand. "…despite appearances. I would have been a giant fucker if I abandoned you. I'd like to think I'm not that miserable of a person."

"Your one of probably a good handful of people that I asked for help o'Sullivan" Abby informs him. "You were the first familiar face that I came across. I'd have probably made it to the Bronx, just more in the form of a Popsicle, than a bartender. I owe you. Live with it"

Hagan makes a face. He's clearly not uncomfortable with that. "Eat your grapes." He stands and goes to refill his coffee. "You want some crisps? Or maybe a baked potato. I could microwave one." Such random food. At least it's not all deep fried.

"I'm good, thank you. Really. The cheese and the grapes are more than enough" Though the espresso is almost gone. Everything's still awkward. "I umm, I heal" It comes out a little more shakier and broken than she would have wanted, more like she was embarrassed to speak it.

"I gathered," says Hagan. He remembers all too well the awkward encounter at Lucy's. He keeps himself in the galley kitchen longer than needed as he fusses with his coffee and the espresso machine.

Back to awkward silence, curling up of the toes then uncurling on Abby's right foot. 'I uh.. Thanks. Again. I'm going to stop talking because I don't really know what to talk about. I get the feeling you don't talk much and that your not used to having people in your place.

"People don't tend to come round, it's true. But it's also a bloody small space. I miss my old flat." Hagan enters again with his coffee and a bag of chips. He chucks it on the table, then sits at the far end of the couch. "I'm a graphic designer. Artist. Whatever the hell you want to call it. I design billboards and magazine ads and shit." Apparently this is his way of making small talk.

'It's not that small. Really. You should have seen my old place. I think it was as big as your kitchen. I probably paid as much for it as well. ugh, the cockroaches. Was forever setting up roach traps. And could hear people fighting about two stories above or below, I swear. But good money to be made in that. The uhh, designing thing. And you must be pretty good at it. High in demand"

"So high in demand they chained me to this bloody city. I could be in London right now. Or maybe in Dublin. Or Amsterdam. Anywhere but the place with the giant crater." Hagan grabs a handful of chips and chews them. "My firm set me up with this place. My old one and all my stuff got incinerated."
You say, "have you thought about finding a new place or just content to stay here?" Abby finishes off the cheese and the grapes, putting the plate down and the cup. Her hands shoved under her armpits to get keep getting warm. "Your not.. you know.. glowing in the dark from the bomb are you?""

"No, no. This is fine. It's just not the style to which I had become accustomed," There's some sarcasm in Hagan's voice. He tilts his hed back and stares up at the ceiling. "The money I'm making doesn't go that far anymore, is the thing." He kicks up a foot on the coffee table, then looks at her when she asks the question. "What? No, no. I was across town when it happened."

"Ahhhh" makes sense now and no, money doesn't stretch as near as it did. "So what keeps you here? Contract? Not a way out to head back home?" She tucks her feet under her, regarding the man from the little contorted huddle she'd become on the one end of his couch.

"Yeah. Contract. And the industry'd blacklist me if I broke the contract. So I'm stuck here another year, and even then they've got the option to renew if they up my salary enough. It's the trap I got myself in to," Hagan takes a drink of the coffee and stares forward. "That was the catch for all the money the offered me."

"so.. what can you do instead of being miserable about it?" Abby eyes him.

"I'm not miserable. I'm making the bloody best of it." Hagan sounds serious. He pushes hair out of his face. It sticks up, as it often does.

"You visit bars on thanksgiving, and order sad turkey" There's a set of raised brows to her words. "What are you doing at Christmas?"

"Flying's not safe. If I go back home, they might not let me back in the country. And then I'd be breaking my contract. And no way in hell I'm bringing my family to this bloody war zone. Also, I'm Irish. We don't have Thanksgiving. I just went in for a pint." Hagan sets his coffee down.

"They don't?' okay, there's the blonde showing through. "So, your sorta, stuck… here then"

"Sort of, yes. And quite literally. Unless I want to abandon my career and take up a life selling beach mats to tourists." This line of conversation seems to be making Hagan grumpy. He goes for the chips again.

"Or serving drinks to people" She studies him, carefully, unsure of really how to treat the guy. 'Could I umm, maybe, you know, have that shower. I'm pretty sure I don't smell that great"

Hagan motions towards the bathroom. "I'm going to have a smoke," He stands, pats down his jacket and heads for the balcony.

Abby nods, slipping off the couch, making her way to the bathroom. Sure to be towels in there, shampoo and soap. If she lucked out, maybe even a spare toothbrush. She pauses at the door into it, looking back. "thanks again. Really o'sullivan. I owe you"

The poor girl will have a shower and end up smelling rather…manly. Hagan seems to have a distaste for floral toiletries, given the supplies in his washroom. No spare toothbrush, but there is some very strong mouthwash. For getting out that smoky scent.

December 13th: The Devil's Due, Part III
December 14th: A Kiss Good Night
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