Participants:
| Scene Title | Not A Saint |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Just a couple of good samaritans. |
| Date | March 31, 2011 |
Most of Tartarus's staff doesn't really start showing up until half an hour before opening. Some an hour, but that's usually the limit. Melissa, however, with her bit of OCDness, is almost always the first to show up when she's not injured, trapped in a Dome or somewhere in space. Which is more often than it should be, really. But she's here now, having dropped Junie off at the babysitters before coming in, inviting Devon along if he wanted to go. No ulterior motives there, nope. So what if she may hope that he'll quit his internship and come to work for her. It's not a crime, right?
The sound of rustling and clanging around might be heard in a nearby dumpster. Even the least observant might notice the rusted shopping cart parked next to it that is half full of various aluminum cans, glass, and other recycleable refuse. In the front basket of the cart is a bottle of whisky, three quarters gone. The rustling continues a "Oooh-ho-ho! Nice!" can be heard from inside. A grudgey looking man pops his head out the dumpster, his brown hair string with the wet and dirt of who knows what. A tinted smile that is in much need of dental work, let alone a tooth brush, is displayed for the world to see as he hoists a garbage bag over the edge. It lands into the old cart with the loud clang of glass slamming against glass.
Of course Devon agreed to go along. He likes the club, even if he is too young to enjoy all its amenities. Besides, getting to know the other employees could prove beneficial depending on where his future takes him. That aside, he'd taken the day off anyway, with plans to visit an exhibit that he quietly protests the creation of.
It's a casual day today, with the teenager dressed in jeans for once, a hoodie in place of a jacket though the weather's still a trifle cool. The sounds don't go missed, Devon's head instinctively turning to find the source. He lets out a quick whistle to grab Melissa's attention, but refrains from outright speaking.
Devon wasn't the only one who heard the sounds, Melissa glancing in their general direction. "I hear it," she murmurs, before motioning for him to follow as she heads towards the noises. She's paranoid, certainly, and other women might grab pepperspray or a gun. Mel? Well, she's just making sure that Devon doesn't get too far. Juuuuust in case.
When she sees the dumpster diver her head tilts and she just sort of blinks at Trevor for a long moment. "The hell are you doing?" she asks, sounding completely baffled. And eyeing the dirt. The evil, horrible dirt that clings to the man.
Trevor doesn't catch the approach of the strangers at first. He's gone under again to look for more goodies. Goodies that well get him a bite to eat and a new bottle of Jack. Why hadn't he thought of coming to places like this before? Here was a sea of empty beer bottles and cardboard ripe for the taking!
The sound of Melissa's voice completely catches him off guard as he lets out a "Whoa!" and stumbles backwards. The loud crash of broken glass and rustling of disturbed trash bags can be heard. Oh fuck…he's busted for sure. He was just after trash though, not bills or receipts or anything to steal. Is stealing trash a crime? He's about to find out. "Ummm…just gettin' some recycling stuff. That's all. I don't mean any harm, ma'm."
Falling into step beside Melissa, Devon's attention is fixed on the dumpsters. Like attracts like it would seem, with paranoia traveling these days in pairs. His own normally calm exterior is shadowed by a wariness. Likewise, the teenager seems equally taken aback by the appearance of a man covered in filth rifling through the garbage.
A faint smirk pulls at the corners of his lips as Melissa speaks first. Really, it's her place, so Devon'll take shotgun on this one. Not literally, not unless it's really needed. His arms fold across his chest, brows arching upward a little.
After the man speaks Melissa glances at Devon for a moment, then back to the man. She's quiet for a moment as she considers him, and Devon, at least, would know that the look she's quickly getting on her face is the one she gets when she's about to attack stray dirt that has dared to find its way into the apartment.
"Why don't you come inside?" she says finally, moving towards the back door, pulling her keys out so she can unlock it. "There's no need to go digging into dumpsters," she adds, taking a step inside so she can deactivate the alarm. But then she's right back outside and motioning for Trevor to go on in, even as she gives Devon another look.
Inside? Really? Trevor struggles to get his footing as he stands up, the shifting terain of garbage beneath him. The shame cuts through him. He lets out a sigh as he finally finds the courage to reveal himself from hiding and hoists himself out of the pit of trash.
Trevor shoves his hands into his old black peacoat that looks damp and stained in several places. His jeans also look worse for wear. He walks past Devon, not even making eye contact, as his shoulders are hunched over. As he walks closer to Melissa, he glances up to look into the face of someone who is showing him more kindess than he knows he deserves. "Thank you." His eyes return to the ground as he walks inside.
Another time, Devon might have laughed at the situation, especially after meeting that first look from Mel. The fact that the smirk remains is proof enough of that. He can easily guess what's in store for the poor fellow that chose this dumpster to dive into. The expression drops at the second look from Melissa, hinting at that dispassionate self, and he gives her a small nod.
Waiting for Trevor to follow Melissa inside, Devon takes up the rear. "There a lost and found," he asks, doing his best to ignore the smell. "Maybe some chicken wings or …onion rings?"
The words from Trevor have Melissa smiling gently. There's no condecension or disgust in her features, and she's careful to hide her distaste of the dirt, which Devon will know isn't easy for her. She heads inside after the others, shutting the door behind her. "There's nothing left over from last night, not that's cooked, but there are pretzals and tortilla chips for the nachos," she tells Devon as she leads the way to the club proper, and right on over to the bar where there's seating.
She moves around behind the bar, to grab a glass and fill it with Coke, setting it on the bar. "I'm Melissa, this is Devon," she says, nodding to the teen and clearly expecting Trevor to give an introduction of his own.
Trevor follows behind Melissa, glancing around at the new surroundings. His stomach grumbles at the meer mentioning of food, even if it's only snack food. Can't be picky when you've got nothing. He takes a seat up at the bar as Melissa introduces herself and Devon. He turns to Devon and nods politely in greeting, showing the teen respect. The kid's surviving way better than he is. Perhaps if Trevor didn't look so much like the drunken bum he was the teen would be showing him some respect instead. But he knew better than to demand respect from anyone. Instead, he still felt like crawling back in the dumpster.
He places his hands on the ice cold glass of Coke and takes a moment to introduce himself. "Name's Trevor. Trevor Connolly." He glances up at Melissa. "You're not going to call the cops on me, are you? I was really just looking to get enough stuff to turn in to the recycle center for some cash to get some food." And perhaps some more Jack. Definitely more Jack. The bottle was getting a bit low for Trevor's liking.
Still following, Devon goes hunting for chips or pretzels. Either one. When Trevor turns his way, it's not a smirk that meets the man but an affable, faint grin. And as expected, chips aren't too hard to locate in the end, a basket of flattened corn crisps are placed on the bar in front of Trevor. A moment later, the teenager adds a damp rag to that order. In case the man decides to wipe his hands before eating.
"No, I'm not going to call the cops on you," Melissa says, shaking her head and probing with her ability, to see if Trevor's hurt anywhere. She can't really control this aspect of her ability well, yet, so Devon gets included in the probe. She studies Trevor for a long moment. "You got a place to stay, Trevor?" she asks, even as she smiles at Devon for the chip delivery.
The chips and wet rag are welcomed as Trevor wipes his hands. It takes some scrubbing with the rag to get most of it off as its off-white color gets a little darker. Trevor seems to relax a little when he realizes he's not going to jail. He takes one of the bags of chips, opens it, and starts munching on it tentively as he ponders what exactly to say.
"I've always got a place to stay." He smirks a little, but he straightens himself on the stool. Stop being a smart ass, Trevor, and answer the lady. "No, I don't. I've been sleeping in an ally a couple of blocks from here or at the shelter when it gets too cold. But I don't like staying at the shelter too long. It's too crowded, and the others are sometimes more desperate than I am. Desperate enough to do worse things than dumpster diving."
Leaning against the bar, a stool or two down from where Trevor's perched, Devon watches him rather openly. There's no judgement in that gaze, if anything it's quite void of anything he might be thinking. Melissa, however, might notice that tendency still toward detachment. His numbness of attitude in dealing with strangers. But it's still far from unkind.
The answer, though not unexpected, has Melissa glancing at Devon, then back to Trevor. "I'll make a deal with you, Trevor. I'll get you a hotel room for a few days, and a few meals, if you'll shower in the hotel room. And if you're looking for work, I'll hire you. Can always use more security and busboys."
Trevor looks at Melissa, cocking his head to the side in disbelief. He looks down at himself. A shower would just be enough to make him feel like a brand new man, but to add a warm bed and food? He glances back up at Melissa. If she had wings, it would only confirm what he already knows. "Thank you, Melissa." It's all he can manage to say for a while as he munches on chips, a bit more hungrily now. "I guess even gutter rats get second chances."
Devon's gaze flicks over to Melissa at the offer to Trevor. It shouldn't surprise the teenager, he well knows her tendencies for bringing home strays, being one himself. "Most people deserve a second chance," he says quietly, turning his attention back to Trevor. "Even 'gutter rats'." The deprecation is added in jest, his tone lightening a little in implication that the teenager disbelieves the man is a gutter rat. "What's your story, Mister Connolly?"
Melissa smiles and leans against the bar. "You're welcome, Trevor. Just make sure you shower. As Devon can tell you, I'm a neat freak. Probably the worst you'll ever meet outside of a mental institution." And it's something she's come to terms with, even learned to find amusing. Devon's question has her giving the boy a smile, and grabbing another glass, filling it with his favorite soda before setting it in front of him.
The bum turns to Devon with his glass of soda in his hands. "I guess we all have stories, don't we?" He takes a drink of his soda. "I got evicted when I lost my job. I didn't have enough time at the old job to build up much of a reputation for myself, so finding another job wasn't as easy as I had thought. I was also too big of a party boy, several bad habits from my college frat days. I didn't have enough money saved up to ride out the storm, so I got tossed out on my ass. I had a falling out with my parents, so they weren't going to lend me a dime or come and pick me up. I was on my own and been on my own ever since." Trevor grabs some more chips and munches on them as he opens up a bag of pretzels. How he missed junk food! Such yummy, salty goodness!
"Thanks," Devon murmurs to Melissa, not loud enough to interrupt Trevor's tale. Grasping the glass, though not lifting it, he looks at the man. There's still little sign of what his perceptions might be. "Huh," is his response, brows furrowing slightly. It's not something he's had much experience with, luck handing him a safety net any time the ground was pulled out from underneath. The boy, with brows raising, looks to Melissa.
"Well, now you have a chance at a new job, if you want it," Melissa says, nodding. "We all make mistakes when we're young, some more serious than others. I know I have. Just let me make a phone call or two, then if you want, we'll go to the hotel." She considers, then glances to Devon. "And can I talk to you for a moment?" she asks, motioning towards the other end of the bar.
Trevor turns on the stool to face the bar again with a smile. "You're a saint, you know that? I really don't deserve this, but…thank you." He takes a sip of his soda. "I used to wait tables to get through college, so I'm sure we can find something around here for me to do." He gives Devon a quick glance as the two go off to talk on their own. Doesn't bother him any. He's got pretzels to finish.
The glass is left on the bar, though Devon does nudge it closer to Trevor as he moves off to follow Melissa. His hands go into his pockets as he reaches the end of the bar, and a glance goes over to Trevor once again. Shoulders raise and fall slightly as he turns his attention back to Mel.
"Not a saint," Melissa says, shaking her head. "Just someone who likes to help," she adds before she moves to the other end of the bar. Once there she lowers her voice. "After we get him fed and in the shower, I've got a favor to ask. If I give you my credit card, can you take him shopping for some clothes? I think he'd be more comfortable if it wasn't a woman." She smiles faintly. "Guys are just weird like that. Besides, he might talk to you more, and I want to know more about him."
Trevor finishes off his glass of soda and munches idly on the pretzels. He just naturally assumes their talking about him, but that's to be expected since he appears to be their charity case now. He knows the best thing to do is swallow his pride and accept the help. After all, he really does need help even if he's too stubborn to admit it out loud.
His gaze wonders to the rows of liquor behind the bar. It's like looking upon liquid heaven. He snaps himself out of it and reaches for Devon's glass of soda, taking a large swig of it.
"We're not weird like that," Devon protests quietly. He certainly isn't weird like that. "You women just don't know how to shop." He follows that with a grin to disarm any unintended or implied slights. "Yeah, I'll take him. See what I can find out." He looks down the bar to Trevor, a dubious expression rounding out his features.
Melissa smiles, taking no slight from Devon's words. "Thanks." She gives him a light squeeze to the shoulder, then heads back down the bar. "Ready? There's a hotel not far from here. We can order pizza, if you want. It's got all four food groups, so it's healthy food, right?" she asks, giving both men grins.
Trevor laughs. "I always thought pizza was it's own food group!" He definitely seems more at ease with the present company than earlier. It's always a good idea to be friendly with the people financing your fresh start. "Lead the way."
Devon clears away evidence that anyone was there, though whomever washes the glasses might know otherwise. Those are left in the sink after being rinsed out. "Pizza is its own food group," he explains, "because it covers all groups. It's like the god of food, encompassing everything all at once." He moves out from behind the bar and heads for the door they'd come in through.
"I stand corrected," Melissa says with a smile, heading for the door and pulling out her phone. It's a quick phone call, just asking one of the employees to open up. That done, she opens the door, waits for the others to head out, then sets the alarm and locks the door, heading for her car. "So. After food and shower, Devon's said he'll go with you, help you get some clothes. I'll need to come back to work in an hour or two, or I'd come with." Little white lies aren't real lies, right?
"Works for me." Trevor says with a shrug. He glances to Devon. "Don't worry kid. After a shower, shave, and clean clothes, I'm a lot easier to be around." He offers the teen a smile, before he realizes exactly what his smile must look like. "A tooth brush might help too."
This is more than he could have hoped for, and it just seemed to happen so fast. He went in looking for trash and came out with gold. Of course this isn't a free ride. Gonna have to work to build this into a real opportunity. But for a start, it doesn't get much better than this.
"It's Devon," the teenager corrects Trevor easily, no bite or sarcasm to the the words. "Don't worry, we'll get you set up for a few days." Motioning the man ahead of him, he falls back in beside Melissa. "You want him back here after he's changed? I'm going to that exhibit this evening, but I can come by here after."
Melissa grimaces at mention of the exhibit, clearly still having mixed feelings about it. "No, give him the day to relax and rest. Tomorrow's soon enough," she says, unlocking the car and climbing in. After the others are in as well, she's starting the engine and heading off. The hotel's only a few blocks away. It's not the Ritz, but it's also not cockroach infested, and is mostly clean. Melissa pays for a week, asks for two keycards, and offers one to Trevor before she heads up towards the room.
"Okay, I'm going to go ahead and order the pizza. Or pizzas, rather, knowing how guys eat, and leave my card with Devon. You guys need anything, let me know. Phone's always on."
Trevor takes the card from Melissa. "I really can't say enough how much this means to me. You guys have just been too awesome for words." He puts the card in the slot, opens the door and heads in. Warmth. Blessful warmth. A T.V. Not a big one, but for Trevor, it's just as good as HD with surround sound ever could be. The bed, which will be put to good use later looks better than it probably feels, but you still won't hear complaints from him. He turns around to face Melissa and Devon. "Seriously…I'd hug you guys if I wasn't such a mess!"
With a nod to Melissa, Devon follows Trevor into the room. "I'll let you know when we're back here," he offers, before directing a small smile to Trevor. "And if I don't make it to the club after that thing, I'll catch up with you later." At home, but it doesn't need to be said.
Melissa smiles at them both. "You're very welcome, Trevor. I'll talk to you later. Both of you." And then she's leaving after giving Devon her credit card, letting Trevor get clean, get a new wardrobe, and get rested up. She may not be a saint, but she's at least made a difference in the lives of both the individuals in that hotel room.