Participants:
| Scene Title | Normality |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | It's not exactly a normal day in Cliffside. But everyone can pretend. |
| Date | October 22, 2008 |
Cliffside Apartments: Felix's Apartment
It's a pleasant, airy apartment, with pale hardwood floors and high ceilings. The front door leads into a little entryway with a coat closet on the right and the door to the miniscule kitchen on the left. It then opens out into a living room crammed with bookshelves - there's barely enough room for a plain entertainment center and a dark green couch. Beyond that a short hall leads to the bathroom and two bedrooms, the second of which is more an office and spare room, judging by the desk and the weight bench stored there.
Overall, the decor is spartan at best, with little by way of personal touches. The only decoration in the kitchen is an antique icon shelved high in a corner, where the Mother of God smiles benignly at the infant on her lap. A blue glass vigil lamp burns before it. Over the doorway to the back hall is hung an officer's sabre; no mere trophy, it bears the mark of long and constant wear. There are a handful of posters and prints - mostly landscape, though a few are fencing-related.
Fel drives an ancient but beautifully maintained black BMW sedan. It, and he, stand out like sore thumbs in this neighborhood. There's the sewing machine engine thrum of the car as he pulls up, and steps out, only pausing to check his mailbox before clattering up the stairs to his apartment. There's the sound of the key in the main lock - a very sturdy dead bolt, as he steps in to the little entryway.
The door is locked — but the apartment is not empty. It is, however, perfectly in order; nothing has been touched since Felix left. Nothing save the spines of the books on their shelves; Tamara stands before one of them, tracing her fingers very lightly across the shallow curves of bound pages. She seems utterly unperturbed by the sounds of Felix's approach and the key in the lock; the teen doesn't so much as turn around, and the curving of her lips is hidden by the fact that she's not facing Felix. Her hair's a little neater than when he last saw it, and her clothes of the day are a plum knit sweater and slightly worn blue jeans.
She's just familiar enough that she doesn't get jumped. Fel's hand has already darted for the gun holstered in his jacket, but it withdraws more slowly. His gaze darts around the apartment, looking for signs that it was Colette who let her in, before he wonders, tone urbane, "To what do I owe the honor?" He shuts the door behind him, not looking back, and shoots the bolt home.
There's a subtle shift in Tamara's posture as Felix reaches for his gun — and another when he chooses not to draw it. Almost as though she had seen the entire movement, despite the girl still facing the bookshelf. "You don't," she assures him. Twisting, Tamara looks at Felix over one shoulder, smiling crookedly. "The pattern's still early. May flowers. And I owed you more, I think." An easy rise and fall of one shoulder. "It's hard to tell."
He lets his hand fall to his side, deliberately. "No. I don't generally kill the innocent." His tone is utterly deadpan. "Colette's not back yet," he notes, calmly removing his overcoat and hanging it on a hook on the back of the door. "Are you hungry, or thirsty?" The cats are peeking warily out from behind the bedroom door - the black one sneezes, and then comes bolting for Fel's ankles.
Tamara smiles again, more broadly, the curve less lopsided. "No," she agrees. "And I know. She came." Blue eyes flick to the cats, and the teen moves over to the couch, sitting in one of the corner seats. Turning to face Felix, Tamara brings her feet up onto the couch, knees against her chest. "It's all right. I hope you didn't mind, but that's between you and your shadows."
Felix stoops to pick up Glock, and reassures him. Oddly demonstrative, for Mr. Buttoned-down. Yes, there are scary people in the flat, no, it'll all be alright. "I don't mind, but….how did you get in?" he wonders, tone mild. Glock is busily shedding all over his suitjacket. As well as drooling a bit.
Tilting her head slightly, Tamara studies Felix, blue gaze faintly perplexed. As she regards him, a thin crease forms on her brow. "Through the door?" It sounds very much like the girl is hazarding a guess. But she doesn't linger on the almost-question — she twists to look towards the outer hall, her attention perhaps drawn by a distant sound. And Tamara promptly hops off the couch, padding over to the door, there to draw back the deadbolt again.
There's a rattle at the door, a jingling of keys and muffled — as well as off-key — singing that comes through the door before it's even opened. Not quite clear enough to made out exactly what song is being butchered, however. After a few fumbling moments, the sound of keys fall to strike the hallway floor, along with muffled profanity. But it's the sound of the deadbolt sliding unlocked that elicits a clear and crisp, "Thanks!" from out in the hall in a sing-song tone of voice. Cracking the door open, Colette pushes it the remainder of the way with one hip, sauntering with clearly nw attire, the fur-lined hood drawn up over her head matching the jagged fringe of her bangs. It's evident she's been out in the cold for a while, her cheeks and nose a warm shade of red, and in one arm are several plastic grocery bags, her messenger bag slung over the shoulder of her jacket.
"Felix! I picked up some — " The young girl's eyes widen the moment she spots Tamara by the door, dropping the groceries with the clatter of cans and the clunk of glass bottles to step forward and throw both suede-covered arms around her shoulders, "You're heeeeeere!" Her exclamation is also joined in that chirping tone, she's seemingly so much more relaxed than the night previous, than that low Felix has gotten a front-row seat on.
One of Fel's eyebrows heads for his hairline….and there's clear amusement in his face. At least, in the pale eyes. "I see," he says, reaching past her to pick up the groceries. "Are you good at picking locks, or did you just waltz through like an apparition?" he wonders, before giving Colette a looking over. "You look much better," he approves. "If I do say so myself."
Tamara chuckles softly at Colette's joyous surprise, automatically correcting her balance for the force of the younger girl's hug. She returns the embrace, if only briefly, before flicking Colette's stray bangs aside. "It gets in the way." As if she doesn't have a lot of perfectly unruly hair herself; pot, kettle. Taking a half-step back, Tamara turns to look at Felix. "They're all ghosts, so that's fair," she concurs with a bobbing nod. Not that his query really even resembled a simple yes/no question.
Colette is content to latch on to Tamara until the older girl demurely slips away. The brush to her bangs though, revealing that white and blinded eye causes her to awkwardly smile and turn just a bit more red in the face. She nods, though, in silent agreement. The girl then flicks a glance up at Felix, one hand brushing back the hood of her jacket, "You aren't the only one to think so, I finally don't feel like a hobo!" She cracks a warm smile, then glances sidelong at Tamara, leaning in to lightly touch her nose to the girl's temple before backing away to collect the grocery bags.
"So!," She looks up to Felix pointedly, "Since I was out, and since I had this…" She produces a slim plastic card from her jacket pocket before tucking it between her lips, "I thought I'd take a run down to Canal Street, pick up some food, you know — for dinner?" She cracks a smile, words coming out somewhat mumbled as the credit card bobs up and down between her lips as she talks with it in her mouth. The young girl brushes past Felix like she owns the apartment, moving into the kitchen to lay the bags up on the counterspace, seeming to not think anything unusual of Tamara's remarkably abrupt and unexpected appearance. "Did you just get home?" She asks, eyeing Felix from the kitchenette, removing canned goods and jars of sauce from the plastic bags, along with some fresh fruit.
"This is my second time back, I dropped off the rest of the clothes I picked up. Can you believe I got this jacket for twenty bucks at Goodwill?" Her smile spreads from ear to ear, and judging from her relaxed and cheerful nature, she likely hasn't watched the news at all today, given their earlier conversation. Her ignorance is considerable bliss for the time being.
"That reminds me. We'll have to get you some decent luggage, so you can take what you need when you go back to Judah's or get a place of your own to settle," Fel says, musingly. "I did. Long day. More Evolved….." he trails off, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and hanging it up, before ducking into the bedroom to remove the shoulder holster and safe the pistol. He's also sans tie with he returns, and looks consideraby more relaxed. "What'd you get for dinner?" It's weird, being domestic with something other than cats, but he seems to be adjusting well enough.
As Colette and Felix talk — or Colette talks and Felix settles in — Tamara herself remains quiet. She follows the younger teen over to the kitchen, helping unload the bags and put things in their places — be that on the counter for cooking with or away in cupboards for later. Without once asking either of the apartment's actual inhabitants where anything goes.
When Tamara comes in to help in the kitchen, Colette stops a half-step away from the smaller and whiter of Felix's two cats, narrowly avoiding stepping on the poor thing's tail, likely only avoided because she paused for Tamara to slip past. She follows the girl with her eyes, smiling silently as help is offered to put things away. But it's only now noticing the door has been left open, and as she walks back towards the door, boots clomping the whole way, her expression turns decidedly soured when Felix talks about his day. She shoots Tamara one anxious glance, then back to Felix again. "O-Oh, really?" The girl's brows tense, and she rests oe hand on the door, slowly pushing it closed before turning the deadbolt and sliding the chain across. "I haven't really paid attention to a lot today. Been too busy to turn on the tv…" Her lips purse, then shift to one side.
The second question though, when given some thought, distracts her from the more worrisome matters. "Oh! I got the ingredients for chicken curry — I was kind've undecided on chicken or beef, but, uh, chicken was cheaper?" Her nose wrinkles, much of that red color finally fading from her face now that she's indoors and warm. "Probably won't start dinner for another hour, way too tired to stand over a stove." Cold fingers begin to unfasten the copper buttons on the front of her jacket as she walks out into the living room, shedding the heavy garment and throwing it over the back of the couch before unwinding her scarf from her neck to add it to the pile of shed clothing.
Finally, perhaps now that she feels mentally braced for whatever answer she might recieve, Colette turns to Tamara with one dark brow raised. "So!" One green eye assesses the older girl intently as she gives her usual prelude to an important sentiment, "I really didn't expect to see you out here. I mean — " She awkwardly catches herself, " — It's not to sound like, um, I — " then there's a nervous laugh to acompany it. "H-have you seen Judah at all lately? I brought him some flowers, hopefully he won't grumpy them to death." Her nose wrinkles again, and once more her attempt at humor masks her concern.
"Yes," Fel says, simply, looking weary and grim. "An incident with Evolved," He rubs at his eyes, as if trying to fend off a headache. "I'm not hungry, so there's no hurry on dinner," he agrees. "I haven't been by to see Demsky, yet. I should go see Damaris, and might later," he notes, settling into the comfort of a threadbare armchair in the living room.
Canting her head, Tamara watches Colette stammer her way through the question, a gentle smile slowly forming. "You're worried?" she asks, less an actual query than a suggestion that the younger girl doesn't need to be. Though, in truth, Tamara's lack of concern could be either a good or bad sign. "He didn't," she assures Colette, touching her shoulder briefly. "But he didn't know, either." An impish little smile, younger than her years by far. "Maybe you shouldn't tell him." The groceries dealt with, Tamara steps out of the kitchen, fingers trailing along the edge of the countertop as she moves.
Colette frowns a bit when Kaydence is mentioned, "I… haven't gone to see her yet. I… probably should, you know? She's been really nice to me, for the most part. I feel bad about not even checking up on her." Colette's shoulders slouch some, one hand nervously tugging at the slouched collar of her sweater. Mis-matched eyes flit over to Tamara, head canting to the side. A slight hint of red colors her cheeks again as she listens to the older girl, an anxious grimace crossing her face as she edges towards the living room, coming to sit down lazily on the sofa, though rather intentionally leaving open space on the end closest to where Tamara walks. "Judah'd probably just shake his head and rolls his eyes if I told him that," She smirks, then with a sudden tilts of her head glances back up at Tamara. "Uh oh, I'm in trouble," She says with a teasing smile. "You're starting to make sense to me!" Her nose wrinkles again, and her attention finally focuses over on Felix's weary looking frame.
"So, um, like…" Approaching the topic Colette intends on takes some nerve for her, "This whole, thing you had to deal with today? Like, what um, what happened?" It's obvious she's trying to not be worried given the agent's tone of voice, and even more so about the subject-matter at hand. Like she said the night previously, she's trying, and even more so when the reason she tries is readily at hand.
"It's not really our jurisdiction, but that qualifies as Evolved terrorism, so the FBI helps out," he says, stretching out in a decidedly undignified slouch, and tipping his hea dback. "It was a fucking mess," he notes, closing his eyes. "And I haven't seen her, either. I need to." He pulls himself up, after a few moments spent limply draped, and pours himself a glass of soda.
"Maybe the mirror's in trouble," Tamara disagrees, pausing behind Colette and looking down at her. It's a conversational phrase, not a prediction. "But not here," she concludes after a moment, continuing to wander — around the entire room now, her course meandering and whimsical. Not a loop, but a convoluted track that sometimes doubles back upon itself or changes direction for no apparent rhyme or reason. But the precog pauses as Felix speaks up, darker eyes resting on him in a silence that seems to share his sentiments. I know.
The nervousness in Colette's expression doesn't fade away with Felix's explanation, in fact the vague hinting of something unfortunate only seems to put her slightly more on edge. This is only compounded by Tamara's very odd statement, one she takes a bit more warningly than it may have been intended. She pulls her feet up onto the couch, resting the heels of her boots on the edge, arms wrapping around her legs. "C-come on, Felix, you can't just, like, say something like that and not explain." In her mind, she's imagining all of the possibilities, though none of them quite as grim as what actually happened. She turns, just enough to regard Felix with her good eye, though Tamara's sudden wanderings has her mind stirred, focus flitting back and forth between the two as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Felix's face is drawn, and sad, as he takes off his glasses and sets them aside. "Two Evolved - an acid generator and a telekinetic, killed multiple people in Greenwich Village. Honestly, there's no evidence yet that it was more than random violence, but it's close enough that we got dragged in to help. The NYPD is strained enough as it is."
"Explain," Tamara echoes softly, seemingly more to herself — or perhaps the 'apparitions' no one else here can perceive — than to Felix. The girl turns away, stepping to the nearest window with none of her former meandering. Her palms rest on the windowsill and Tamara leans forward heavily — almost as if she might lean out the window, although in fact her forehead remains well away from the glass. "Chance was the sleeping river. Clouds ebb… and flow."
Colette's face pales as she hears the explanation, all of the color draining from her face as one hand comes up to cover her mouth. She tries, her best, not to look terrified, but it's there in her eyes, in the subtle shaking of her hand. "I — " Her words come out a bit raspy, prompting her to clear her throat. "I was outside and… and that had, oh my God." Her hand lowers from her mouth, both arms wrapping around her legs again, drawing them up closer to her chest as she rests her knees against the back of her mouth. "I c-could have, I mean, they…" She's working herself up, the thought of what Felix described and Tamara's furthered insistance on hearing more only seems to cause the girl to pull back just a little more, teeth pressing down on her lower lip. She's trying to control mostly irrational fear at this moment, for her own sake.
"But you didn't, and now you're here safe. You're far more likely to get hit by a bus than you are to be the victim of evolved violence," Fel says, keeping his voice cam and level. He rises to go put his hands on her shoulders, very lightly, and get her to meet his gaze.
Tamara turns back as Colette starts to work herself up. The precog leans her shoulder against the side of a nearby bookshelf, blue gaze focused patiently on the younger teen. Actually, really focused, despite a hint of strain in her expression. "Colette." The word is softly spoken, neutral in tone — but the simple statement of the name, one Tamara has never voiced, should serve as well as or better than any explicit reproach. The older girl lifts her hands to chest level, palms up; do you think so little of me?
It gets her attention, immediately. Felix's words settle her down from getting worse, make her think, but the sound of Tamara's voice speaking her name for the first time, ever makes her look straight up at the girl. The gesture causes her brows to raise, then knit together as her stare falls down to the floor, shoulders curling forward and that expression of fear and anxiety turns to one of disappointment — in herself. "I… I'm sorry." She mumbles out the reply, finally looking back up at Tamara with a side-long stare, "I… I didn't meanit like that, I just. Bad things happen to good people, y'know?" Her smile is there, tiny, but that concern Tamara shows is something Colette takes to heart. "You can't be there for all of us, right? I mean, Judah got really hurt, and… and I just, it scared me. I… always kinda' thought he was invincible."
Felix steps back again, as if uncertain - touch's a fairly rare thing for him. "No, it's fine. Just…you can't get paranoid about it. Yes, the Evolved can be a threat….but the odds are on a far more mundane bad thing happening to you," he assures her, quietly. "No. Demsky's skilled, and competent, but not invincible. No one is."
Tamara smiles at Felix's words about odds, nodding to confirm them. At mention of Judah's injury, her face becomes shadowed above and beyond the gradually increasing strain — but the girl doesn't venture a direct reply. "There's a difference… random chance… and looking… for trouble." As her quiet voice fades into silence, Tamara lowers her head and closes her eyes, breathing carefully measured. One hand lifts most of the way to her downcast face, hovering just before her forehead.
Colette laughs to herself, awkwardly. There's something telling in her lack of reaction to Felix's hands on her shoulders, either she didn't feel them there, or a certain level of uneasiness about his presence has been surpassed. There's only a handful of people Colette lets get within arms reach of her, let alone lay their hands on her. Tamara's voice and the shift in her expression elicits a quiet and weak sound that squeaks in the back of Colette's throat, and the creak of the couch signals her moving up to her feet, "I — I'm sorry, um," Her eyes wander the floor, not making eye contact. She turns to look back at Felix, her expression is mixed, and then only turns back to walk over to where Tamara stands by the bookshelf, one hand resting on her shoulder. "I didn't mean to… I — " Once more with her own foot leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, "I didn't mean it like that."
That dry amusement has crept into Fel's voice again. "There is that. Both Demsky and I did go looking," he points out. "I've only ever gotten shot when it was the sort of situation where you'd expect it. Not just…out shopping, or going to the gym, or something," And then he glances at Tamara, gaugingly, and then to Colette. Is she okay? "No, it's fine," he assures her again.
Tamara shakes her head, slowly at first, then a little more definitely. Afterwards, she remains still for a short time, simply breathing. Whatever is going on inside her mind seems to occupy the teen's attention — up until the point where she draws her hand back through her hair, finally lifting her gaze to meet Colette's with a wan smile. The subtle difference in focus is visibly gone, replaced by mild fatigue.
There's only a reassuring nod offered to Felix, her focus shifting back to Tamara again, "You want to lay down? There's a spare — " She cuts herself off, smiling slightly, "Like I need to offer or tell you." She snorts out a laugh, mildly self-chastizing. "I'll be here if you do, even when you wake up. Promise." She smiles, and even though Tamara doesn't need the confirmation, or eve the suggestion, it's something Colette likes to put across anyway. The hand on the older girl's shoulder is moved, and she turns her focus back to Felix with a nervous expression. "I'll — Try not to get so worked up. I think meeting some of your neighbors has helped, the girl downstairs, Gillian? She didn't even know you were a Fed…" Colette slowly begins to walk from where Tamara's standing, giving her space, "She's cool, we um, might hang out sometime? She said something about going to — " Colette falters, smiling awkwardly, "Going out!" Her expression turns to something a bit incredulous, and her eyes find their way back to Tamara uncertainly.
"There is a spare bed made up, and you're welcome to rest here if you'd like," Fel offers, smoothly. They can at least pretend at normality, right? "I've only lived here a little while, I don't really know many of my neighbors yet," he confesses. "I've been pretty lax, in all honesty. And well, we don't wear uniforms, so unless I flash the badge, most people tend to assume I'm in business. Something thrilling like banking," he drawls. "And I'm not going to attempt to impose a curfew, or something like that. All I ask is that you do let me know where you go, and when you intend to be back, for courtesy's sake?"
Tamara smiles at Colette, briefly setting her own hand on the other girl's shoulder. She doesn't retreat to the other room, however; instead, the precog wanders her way back over to the couch, tucking herself into a corner of it much as she had previously — seated well back, knees drawn up. She doesn't exactly intend to sleep, but Tamara's demeanor suggests she is planning to just sit there a while, blue eyes half-closed.
There is no established pose order.
Colette watches Tamara move, and when the girl settles down on the sofa there's a gentle smile that comes from her. Circling around the sofa, she walks over to Felix and offers the agent a quiet, "Thank you," her head inclining when she looks back to Tamara, watching her with a gentle expression. That offer Felix re-affirmed meant a lot to the girl, clearly. She looks back, brows tensed, and smiles again. "If I go out, I'll leave you a note." There's a pause, and the girl offers Felix a hesitant smile. "Thanks, Felix. You're… I should've given you a fair chance sooner."
Felix cants his head down a little, and gives Colette a faintly sardonic look from under his brows - his glasses glint in the light of the lamp. "I'm not terribly prepossessing, and I know it," he says, simply. "But it's kind of you to say so. Myself, I'm going to go lie down for a little, and then see about dinner. I'll be in my room if you need me."
 October 22nd: Runaway Orange |
 October 22nd: When You Least Expect It |