Participants:
| Scene Title | (Not) Fanning the Flames |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Practise before the big show is interrupted by the ghosts of girlfriends past. |
| Date | February 8, 2011 |
Village Renaissance Building: Quinn and Elaine's Apartment
Noise.
That's probably what most passersby would describe the sound coming from apartment 309 in the Verb as - but they're all philistines in the eyes of Robyn Quinn, people who can't appreciate a good rock guitar riff. Or maybe they just want to eat lunch in quiet, either way, "feck 'em," as she had related to Elaine earlier. An amp sits on a towel on a brand new looking hardwood table that sits off to the side in the main part of Elaine and Quinn's apartment, Quinn standing not far from it with her Flying V electric guitar in hand, playing away. She has to practice for the show in a few days after all, and a desire not to abandon her roommate for the studio has kept her in the apartment, likely much to the chagrin of everyone else on her floor and right below.
Now how about a word or two on you?
You're an alias, an email address
We lay a lot more out than you do
You do, you do…
You do! You do!
We won't be part of your revolution
So listen up, we're telling you this is a business
We're not misinformed or misdirected
We'll make our own insurrection
So keep on publishing our wrongs
Now how about a word or two on you?
You're a paper fist, a faceless attack
We're not about to break like you do
You do, you do…
You do! Y—
The song isn't like anything most people familiar with music Quinn plays might expect, loud and raucous, and Quinn herself can be heard attempting to scream some of the lyrics (instead having them come out strained and horrible sounding - definitely not her style). This is clearly something she's going to have to work on before the show, if the coughing fit she erupts into the second time she tries to is any sort of indicator.
Having Quinn jamming down here is actually refreshing. Currently, Elaine's sitting nearby so she can fully enjoy the song as she seems to be doing some (rather easy) linguistics homework. As Quinn breaks into the coughing fit, the redhead gets to her feet, heading into the kitchen and wordlessly bringing a water bottle back to Quinn, extending it in her direction.
If there was any doubt in Rue Lancaster's mind that she might have the wrong apartment, it's banashed when she's greeted by noise music on the third floor. A smile crosses her lips as she dances her way toward the door. Her eyes lid as she twirls, both the skirt of her red-orange dress and her red-orange curls caught up in the spin. She's dizzy when she reaches the door and pounds the side of her fist to it to be heard over the music. "Quinnie!" she shouts to announce herself as a friend, rather than a foe/neighbour.
The bottle of water s taken, unscrewed, and thrown back in a blur of motion, Quinn giving a silent but thankful thumbs up to Elaine as she recovers her little coughing episode. But then there's a pound. And a Quinnie. And Quinn just sort of freezes for a moment, eyes widening. That certainly is not a visitor she was expecting today. Gulping down one last bit of water, Quinn sets the water bottle down on top of the amp. "Thanks for that," she says to Elaine, a half step forward to kiss her on the forehead, before she makes her way over to the door and throws it open. "Rue!" she proclaims, arms open, smile wide. "What the hell are you doin' here?"
Quinnie? Well, Elaine wasn't aware Quinn had any sort of secret girlfriend who called her that. She makes sure the water bottle doesn't spill, tightening the cap on it as she peers over towards the doorway where Quinn seems to be more than happy to be hugging another redhead. Elaine doesn't catch the name. She's probably in a state of ginger-envy.
Rue's smile is bright, and she wraps the other woman into a one-armed hug. "I'm here to mix business and pleasure, actually." She wastes no time in letting herself in through the door, and closing it behind her. Magneto colour scheme of a purple scarf and a red jacket shed and set aside quickly. "Ferry business, I'm afraid. But… I figured since I'm on furlough, I could pop in and—"
The curly haired ginger stops abruptly on her way into the apartment when she settles her gaze on Elaine. Her face lights up, mirth and mischief bringing sparkle to her blue eyes in equal measure. "Hello, beautiful." The impish cherub sweeps over to Elaine's side and takes her hand, bringing it to her lips. "Rue Lancaster. Charmed."
"F-Ferry business? Nothin' bad's happenin' is it-" And when Rue stops Quinn stops, at first just a little confused as she looks at her, tilting her head. But then she starts towards Elaine, and Quinn turns to follow her- but when she introduces herself to Elaine, as much as Quinn tries not to - and hopes neither of them can see - she glowers at little at the back of Rue's head, before she steps forward, slinging an hand up and on Rue's shoulder. "Elaine Darrow, meet Fe-" Okay, no, she's not that mean. "Rue Lancaster," she reinforces. "I think I've mentioned her t' you before?" She looks up at the curly haired ginger. "She's good, she's Ferry. But we try not t' talk too much about that stuff here."
That's the second time in a number of days that a ginger has kissed Elaine's hand. The leggy redhead laughs, face warm at the compliment. "It's nice to meet you Rue. I think Quinn has mentioned you before," she says. Well, granted, it might have been in the context of Ygraine making things awkward with Rue and not much beyond that, but Elaine's not much on making judgements within the first five minutes of meeting someone. "But, as Quinn said, I'm Elaine, her flatmate. The whole not talking too much about Ferry is due to the fact that my ex kinda might have said something stupid on television and possibly made a few too many eyes look in our general direction."
The relation of inspiration to perspiration isn't one that's so clear or well rationed as opportunists like Edison would have you believe. Genius, musical or otherwise, isn't something acquired or earned, but bred in the blood, a divine gift with its own prices to pay. Or that, at least, is what some people like to think.
Hard work is something anyone can do, feasibly. Though this denigration of something as simple as commitment may be unfair. As it happens, not everyone's got what it takes to put in the hours. To dedicate yourself to your purpose, inspired or mundane. So maybe will is its own gift.
Sable just wishes she had been gifted with more of it.
She's been in a writing space, and moving from that to simple practice is a little hard, a shifting of gears achieved with much grinding complaint from the inner workings of Sable's head. Listening only to the songs they are to play, at least as best she presently knows, she makes her way via public transit, registration card wearily displayed at each checkpoint. When she arrives, jacketed, hatted, hooded and with her guitar strapped to her back, she looks a bit tired.
The door is open, and she peeks inside, moving from side to side to get new angles of view on the room. Holy Jesus…
"It's like a fuckin' redwood forest in there…" Sable murmurs with a sort of awe.
Quinnie receives a nigh instant glare for her aborted effort to embarrass Rue with her real first name. (Sable probably relates.) But it's brief; there in a flicker, gone in a flash. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Elaine."
When the door opens behind her again, and Sable enters, Rue's head lifts a bit reminiscent of a meerkat coming up to look around. "Did I come at a bad time, Quinnie? I can just… take care of business quickly and get outta your hair, if you need me to." And since she isn't supposed to talk business, she's quick to move toward a surface where she can rest the Hello Kitty notepad she's procured from her pocket and a pen, starting to jot something down.
Quinn looks over towards Sable when she enters, offering a half smile as she waves. "Hey there," she says quietly, laughing at the joke. "We just need Delilah an' we could open a national park." Or something? That was stupid. "She's good too, Rue," Quinn offers with a thumb back to Sable, before looking back at her diminutive friend. "Hey. You're here sooner than expected. This is Rue," she says, tapping her finger on the distracted redhead's shoulder. "Rue, Sable." With that, she removes her hand from Rue, wheeling over a bit closer to where Elaine and her guitar sit.
"You're just here a bit before band practice. Drummer an' bassist should be here eventually," Quinn offers. "Um… how long are you going t' be in town? On this Ferry business?" Which she is genuinely curious about, but she's leading elsewhere first.
"Pleasure to meet you too, Rue…" Elaine says, only to hear Sable's familiar voice. Her gaze flickers over towards the shorter woman, then back to Rue. "Oh, no, you aren't in the way or anything at all, do stay!" She smiles charmingly at Rue, her gaze flickering to Quinn at the mention of Dee. Her gaze goes to the yellow-eyed one. "Hey. How's the fair Delilah faring?"
Slip and unzip, Sable unshoulders her guitar, sets it down and then removes her jacket, tossing it to the side. She takes off her hat, a gesture with some ceremony and for Rue's benefit, and makes a small bow. "Quinn's regard is a top sign of character, so I'll call it a pleasure t' make yer acquaintance, Rue," she says, eyes cast down. They swivel up again, Sable's chin lifting so she can look up into Rue's eyes, "now how's it y' know our gal, and what excuse could she have f'r not makin' this introduction sooner?"
A quick glance and a smile at Quinn, playful reproach. The yellow eyed girl rises into a full stand again, though she remains well dwarfed by the leggy carrot tops that have sprung up here. "Well as any c'n expect, livin' in this fuckin' city," Sable replies to Elaine, nose wrinkling, "goddamn globe or whatever it's called over in our part of town, another insane fuckin' thing, y' know?" She rolls her shoulders in a shrug. "Mebbe be takin' a quick trip t' Atlanta soon, though. But only," she dips her head to Quinn, "after we're done makin' you a fuckin' risin' star."
"If I'm doing my job right, I shouldn't be in town long. I should be headed back home," Pollepel Island, "as soon as I find what I'm looking for." At that, Rue lifts up the sickeningly cute Hello Kitty pad and taps her pen against what she's written down.
I need an escort to GCT, the note reads. Kaylee Thatcher
Rue's gaze flickers between the women in the room, then finally settles back on Quinn. "You changed your hair. I've… never seen it that short on you. It… It's different." Staggeringly, apparently. "I think I kind of like it," she admits with a small smile. She tries to banish the fondness from it as soon as she catches herself. She's been spoke to.
"It's nice to meet you, Sable," responds Rue after breaking herself free of her reverie. "I've heard a lot about you from the others." Meaning not the people gathered in this apartment. "You're the Gardener, right? Nice to finally put a face to the name." As to her question… A little colour creeps into checks and makes a backdrop for freckles. "Quinnie and I…" She sucks down a breath and forces herself not to level an expectant look on Quinn to bail her out. "We've known each other… four years now? But you know how easy it is to lose touch in a city this size." When she does look to Quinn again, it's a sad look in her eyes.
"Fuckin' bubble…" Quinn mutters out as she moves to pick up her guitar - still plugged into the amp, causing a bit of feedback to filter out between Elaine and Rue. She looks up just in time too see the sad look, but it'll time since she's already halfway through saying, "Ygraine's stuck in that thing, you know?" She immediately winces, sighing as she straightens her skirt. "Yeah, I've known Rue since right after the bomb." She rolls her shoulders a bit nervously before she reaches over to the amp and turns it down so it's not nearly as loud in the other two women's ears. Now she can strum a bit while she talks!
"Stick around for a few days, if you can?" Quinn offers a smile, a hopeful tone in her voice. "You can, ah, stay here if you need t'?" Which is probably a very awkward offer, but one she gives anyway. "I have a concert on Thursday. When you get a moment… there's a box in my room," marked by band posters Rue should easily recognise, "by the door. Take one a' what's in there for yourself. Elaine asking about Delilah gets a bit of a… look from Quinn. Uh oh.
But instead of say something, the musician leans down to the piece of paper and scribbles she was here the other day, asking me and Delilah about something. She's staying in a hotel. Want her number? I'm sure you can stop by.
"Yeah, saw a bit of the bubble up close," Elaine says, glancing over towards Rue. Oh, now that's a look she recognizes. She knows it all too well. She reaches over, placing a hand on Rue's arm. "Got a sweet tooth? I did a bunch of baking while I was over at Delilah's the other day. Brownies, cupcakes, cookies… what'll you have?" Her eyes flicker to Quinn as she catches the look regarding Delilah, and Elaine smiles. It's a weak one.
Her eyes go back to Rue. She pointedly doesn't look at Sable too much, instead focusing on the other redhead. "Stick around, you're gonna wanna come to the party… it'll be fantastic. I'm thinking on what I'm wearing, but I'm sure it'll be be something amazing."
"I'll not shame Quinn by askin' what excuse further she coulda had f'r losin' touch with yer lovely self," Sable replies, smiling with gratification at the blush. She grabs her instrument and bears it over to the main gathering, unzipping the case and sliding the dark shape of the Rickenbacker out of its nestled, protective enclosure. "Y'all feelin' equal t' th' days t' come, Quinn? This here wave is liftin' y' up, not loomin' over y', right?" she gives the older girl a wide, encouraging smile, "gonna be all you, hon. Gonna knock 'em dead."
Neglect breeds neglect, and lack of further question or address from Elaine is answered by no further answer or reply on Sable's part. Sable, however, make no visible effort to curb her own glances in Elaine's direction, which glances are not irregular. Here and there, stolen glimpses, though not many long lived, Elaine's own disregard being a little too hard to view directly for much duration.
"Yeah, that'd be great." Whether she means staying here, with Quinn and Elaine, or… Well, she likely means getting Kaylee's number if the nod back after Quinn's finished writing is anything to go by.
When Elaine's hand finds her arm, Rue's visible surprised by the touch. In so far that she didn't see it coming, not that the contact upsets her in any way. "Ooh. Brownies." She offers a toothy smile at that. "I definitely want to come to your party. If I can get done what I have to do for Ms Simms. And… If…"
Concern suddenly etches in Rue's features. It doesn't last very long before she's shaking her head and smiling brightly. "I just have to make sure I make time for my aunt while I'm out here."
"Ms. Simms?" Quinn's head tilt a bit. The name, she remembers being one of the newer Council members. Wow, Rue's here on Council business? That certainly adds a bit of weight to all of that. Which, to her, explains the concern that crosses Rue's face. Kaylee's number is sketched down on the peice of paper and slid aside, Quinn drawing her guitar into her lap with a smile. "Grab me a brownie too?"
Looking over to Sable, there's a sudden more sheepish look to Quinn's voice, though she tries not to show it in her voice. "Ah, well… it's kind of a long story as t' why Rue an' I fell a bit outta contact. But of all things, the Ferry brought us back t'gether. Literally ran int' her one day on Bannerman." Her smile returns after a moment, strumming strings and producing sound from the amp next t' her. "You're kiddin', right? I've been waitin' for this. It's going t' be…" She pauses for a moment. "Well, I don't have a better word than awesome, but that's good enough. Besides, I think Elaine has some tideas for if people start leavin'," she says with a grin as she looks back in her flatmate's direction.
Elaine's gaze remains on Rue for the most part, though she gets up to fetch the container of brownies from the kitchen. Returning with them, she holds it out towards Rue so she can take one. Her eyes flicker to Sable, accidentally catching a glance before she looks away sharply. Her gaze settles onto Quinn, whose words promptly cause her to blush. "I was mostly joking about that…" Mostly.
"I know 'er," Sable says, lifting her chin at the mention of Barbara, "bumped int' her durin' m' stint at th' Garden," which Rue knows about, apparently, and which Sable, if her words are any indication, believes is well over, "th' Ferry need some sorta hand, gal?" this to Rue directly, "If I ain't up on stage, I'm at their disposal 'n' all. Ain't shirked that duty 'r nothin'," as if her inactivity in the network of late needs be excused.
"I think, gal, th' word f'r what it's gonna be, 'r rather what it's gonna do, what yer gonna do, is rock," Sable says, flashing a grin. Whatever Quinn and Elaine are referencing, though, Sable doesn't have details on, and her look quickly becomes curious, gaze flicking from Elaine to Quinn and back again. "Y'all gonna talk in circles all night, 'r 'r' you gonna fill a gal in here?"
"Oh, that sounds promising," Rue teases, winking at Elaine. When Sable calls her attention she nods. "I'll pass the message on. I know that the council wants to see if we can find property, so we can… spread people out again. It's a little cramped back home." She shrugs, talking around the small nibble of brownie she's just taken, "So, that's something."
Reaching over and taking a brownie for herself, Quinn laughs, letting the guitar rest in her lap for a moment. "Yeah, if they need help, they just need t' ask. If I'm in town, I'll be there." There's an affirming nod, Quinn letting out a bit of a sigh. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. An' we're not talkin' circles, I was just pokin' fun at somethin' Elaine said the other night. Nothin' important." She laugh, though, because she knows Sable is going to ask her to elaborate anyway.
Elaine's face is red. She'll probably have to smack Quinn for bringing it up. "It was a terrible idea, I'm sure it won't be fantastic or anything." She leans a bit, offering the container of brownies to Sable, just in case she wants to get one too.
"Don' get me wrong, I'm not exactly chompin' at th' bit t' get back t' it," Sable says, slinging the guitar strap over her shoulder and starting the pluck-and-twist of the tuning process, dark head dipping low, by the strings, to catch the muted, un-amped twang. "Havin' hot showers 'n' a warm bed 'n' not havin' t' freeze my fuckin' livelihood," she wiggles her fingers, "off… I'm pretty much diggin' it. But if duty calls…" But yes, it can call her.
The brownies are given all due consideration, but this process only takes a split second and then Sable's nabbed one of the fudgy squares, a smaller piece. "Much obliged…" she half mumbles, before taking a chomp out of the confection Chew chew. Swallow. "Real fine," she says, in judgment, smiling at Elaine with unabashed directness, what hesitation or restrain present exerting itself in the paucity of her words, not her expression or mien.
The continued circumlocution of the conversation, however, draws a hairy eyeball from Sable, pointed in Quinn's direction. "Oh Jesus, y'all gonna bring it up, y'all better fuckin' explain yerself 'stead 'f dancin' 'round it. Christ almighty, but whatall could possibly make y' bashful 'round me, eh? What call is there f'r modesty in my presence?"
Rue's eyes flit between each woman in the room in turn before she asks in a quiet voice, "She gonna work a pole?"
Quinn coughs and shakes her head. "N-No, just that a little makin' out with the signer might keep people form leavin'," Quinn replies, looking over at Elaine apologetically. Which is a lot better than the rest of the idea Elaine had had, but that is staying tucked way away in her pocket, for now. "You would both like a pole, wouldn't you?" Quinn adds, not entirely thinking before hand. "Perverts~" Teasing, of course. "Anyway… Rue! Seriously. Box by my door. Go grab something out f it. It's yours."
The brownies find a new home on the table. Elaine peers at the brownies as if they were going to get up and walk away before she lets her red-faced gaze shift about the room for a moment. "That or I'll just flash them, but Quinn said that's probably illegal, so that idea was thrown out," Elaine says, near unabashedly save for the fact that she's still red. She stretches a little, getting to her feet. "'Scuse me for a sec, don't mind me, bathroom break." She moves, walking down the hall, and the bathroom door shuts behind her.
"I know, Quinn, I know, fuckin' perverts t' th' last," Sable says, with an air of commiseration, "a pole ain't th' place f'r so fine a work as dear Elaine. A pedestal, marble, is where such beauty belongs," said with a hand touched lightly to her chest, emphasizing the dignity of her sentiments, the superiority of her aesthetics. "Not that th' desired effect wouldn't be had, 'course," the yellow eyed girl allows, with a deferential nod to Rue.
Elaine's retreating back is eyed briefly, before Sable's gaze flickers back to Quinn. "Suggestion, though, hon. Save th' kiss f'r backstage. That's where it tastes sweetest, always." Advise given seriously, it seems.
Rue's back goes a little rigid and she sits up a little straighter, a smile on her face in spite of what's actually going on in her mind. "Oh. Well, that's one way to do it. I'm sure plenty of people want to watch that. Two hot girls on stage all over each other? Yeah, totally." When she's directed to Quinnie's bo-
Hang on. Rewind.
When Quinnie directs her to her bedro-
No, that isn't going to work either.
There's a crate. Or something. In a room. That may or may not contain a bed belonging to Quinnie. And Rue is up off the couch and making a bee line for it, if only to get out of the living room before she starts blushing. And not at all for the same reasons as Elaine.
Which leaves just Quinn and Sable. Which in turn has the potential to get really awkward really fast. The Irishwoman lets out a bit of a sigh, shoulder slumping a little. "It wasn't a serious idea t' begin with. Jesus, I hope she's not pissed at me." Grimacing, she scoots back a bit on the table - which she shouldn't, it's meant for food, but Quinn's always, uh, put tables to more use than jsut food, so it doesn't even occur to her. "Anyway…" She trails off, a bit at a loss for what else to say at the immediate moment.
For her own part, Sable doesn't seem invested in awkward-making. At worst she's ever so slightly subdued, less out and out reckless and heedless than when social footing is more firm. Elaine's departure, sudden and stark, does seem to suggest unrest however. The yellow eyed girl's lips quirk to one side. "Woman is a tempest, hon," she says, dipping her head, "winds blow wildness hither 'n' fuckin' yon, don' try 'n' make no sense out 'f it." She steals a quick glance towards the door Rue disappeared through and adds, in a low tone. "You 'n' her had a somethin' sometime?" is a question that's rhetorical for the most part - Sable has confidence in her guess, this being the one area where she counts herself educated.
Inside the bedroom, Rue is surveying the space. She remembers some of these posters. Some are new. Some are- Didn't she give Quinnie that poster? She can't honest decide how she feels about that. That there's still traces of their relationship left behind. But at least it's not like it never happened at all, even if it is nothing more than a decaying echo.
Rue re-emerges from Quinn's room with a CD in hand and a brilliant smile. "This is really happening! Congratulations, Quinnie!" She doesn't throw her arms around her. Not that she should being as how there's a guitar in the way, but it's rather un-Rue-like not to pounce with affection. If Quinnie even remembers what is or isn't Rue-like anymore. Rue has her doubts.
Quinn looks over at Sable with bit of a grimace and a sigh. "R-Rue? …yeah. She's the ex-girlfriend I told you about. That I ran int' on Pollepel?" Tongue runs over chapped lips for a moment, wetting them. "That… is a really long story for. Suffice t' say, I'm kinda a total tool, an' I don't think anythin' since we reconnected has helped. Particularly not since she met Ygraine, an' I doubt she'd take well t' knowin abo-" As Rue comes bounding back out of the room, Quinn stops somewhat abruptly, looking over at her with a wide smile, bracing herself for impact.
"Two CDs, actually. It's a double EP," Quinn replies with a laugh, though she quirks an eyebrow when Rue stops short of hugging her. Particularly considering the hug she got upon opening the door earlier, and the fact that everyone else hugs her when they see the CD so of course Rue Lancaster is going to, strikes is kind of odd. But, still, she'll leave that for a more private discussion, if a moment for such a thing arises. "Yep. Really happenin'. That's what the concert on Thursday's for. I work at Studio K now, too. Soon I'll have a radio show."
And with that, she leans over and looks towards the bathroom, whistling sharply. "You better not be doin' somethin' silly in there like makin' a booty call or cryin' or somethin', Elaine!" Yelled teasingly of course, but there is a hint of genuine worry in her voice.
'Say no more,' is the substance of Sable's tacit communication to Quinn, a look given quickly but with significance. She digs the need for a certain discretion in these matters - a certain care - now more than ever. And she has her answer. As long as she knows who slept with whom, right?
"Real as real," Sable affirms, giving Rue a smile tinged with credited fondness, a regard that may not have been earned through experience but is offered on the strength of Quinn's endorsement. "Y'all chose a mighty convenient time t' link back up with Quinn, eh? Just in time f'r backstage passes." Playfully inferring ulterior motives.
That Elaine may in fact be crying in there does feel much to Sable like fodder for jest, though, and her expression falls into shades of glum anxiety even as Quinn jokes about it. "Y'all wanna go knockin' on that there door, Quinngirl?" she inquires, keeping her tone too low to carry all the way to the girl cordoned off in the bathroom, "I c'n entertain yer lovely guest, meantime, if y' need a moment, see our gal's okay?"
Rue sets the double EP aside with her discarded coat and scarf, and comes to sit near Sable. "You should check on her," she agrees over her shoulder to Quinn. Then, she turns back to the (smaller) guitar-wielding woman. "Do you know Play the Game? I heart Queen."
Alright, well, there seems to be a bit of a consensus, even though Quinn was just joking about the crying thing. She slips off the table, setting her guitar aside as she pads her way over towards the bathroom door. Leaning against the wall beside the door, she knocks for times, quirking an eyebrow. "Everythin' okay in there, dear?" Which- makes her wince instantly, given the present company and the fact that she didn't mean to let that slip out.
The bathroom door opens and Elaine glances to Quinn, offering a smile. "Yeah, fine, I think the stomach flu's going around or something. Ate something wrong," she insists. Well, considering she ate the food Quinn did, that's not likely. Yay for cover stories. She heads back out, brushing past Quinn as she moves into the living room. "You all don't need to worry so much. I know you all just missed me, but…" She offers a smile, moving to grab another brownie.
"'course," Sable says, with a smile and a half scoff, "though it's just like a faggot like Mercury t' talk 'bout love like it's a game, innit? Shit, if only we could all be faggots, eh? Chicks 'r' hard fuckin' work, no foolin'."
Terms of endearment and familiarity are pretty much par for the course as far as Sable's concerned. Quinn's slip may be a slip to her, but to Sable there is no sin or failure in expression affection. Much worse, really, to hold such feelings in secrecy. At least that's what recent experience has taught her. A lesson lasting? Hard to say.
Manners, however, are something that haven't stuck with Sable, at least in a conventional sense. Certain matters of etiquette she's pretty clear on, like how one treats a lady. Others, however, like those involving privacy. "Elaine, darlin'," Sable says, craning her neck to get a look at Ms. Darrow, "y'all mean t' insult us thinkin' we fall f'r that tall tale? Let there be no such untruth b'tween us, now. Whatall were y' up to in there, oh eater 'f brownies?"
Rue looks a little sullen when Quinn slips up. She knows. Toward the end, there were fewer and fewer dears to be had. Even if they're more free now that the past is supposedly behind them. It's not lost on her now. "Yeah," she mumbles in agreement. "But dudes are way worse. So not worth the aggravation."
Calling Elaine on her false words leaves the other ginger feeling exceptionally awkward. Oh, look! More brownies. Are there pot in these? There should be. That would be a blessing.
Quinn grimaces. She had caught the fact that clearly Elaine wasn't being on the up and up, but she had planned to pull her aside in private, instead of airing it all out in front of everyone else, in case it was something serious, or something private. Or in case Elaine was for whatever reason pissed at her for mentioning their joke from the night before. Grimacing, she leans in to the bathroom and looks around in the hopes of seeing some sort of tell tale sign as to what the world transpired, all while listening to whatever response Elaine gives Sable.
It didn't occur to Elaine about the brownie. Really, it was an easy slip. Her gaze darts sharply towards Sable at the question. A million daggers are shot in her direction via her eyes before she looks away, eating the brownie. "I don't think that really matters to you, now, does it?" Elaine remarks towards Sable, eyes scanning her for a long moment. She looks back towards the brownie, then to Rue and Quinn.
Okay, so that's how it's gonna be?
Sable has the bad faith to look confused at Elaine's reply, head tilting birdishly as she peruses Elaine's features, even as they turn away from her and on to other targets. "Meanin' no offense," she says, at length, very clearly answering Elaine to the exclusion of other potential addressees, "but you never thought wronger."
Rue rises from her seat then. "Okay! I'm gonna head out for a bit. There was this really cute coffee shop down the block and I am jonesing for an iced latte like whoa." In this weather? Yes. A quirk she gets guff for endlessly. Iced coffee even in the winter. "I'll be back probably in about ten or twenty minutes." She's tugging her coat on before anyone can object, winding her scarf around her neck and pulling her ginger curls free from both collar and wrap. "Sound good? Great. See you soon."
Oh. Yay. This devolved rather quickly. Way more than Quinn could have ever wanted or expected. She hadn't expected having Sable around to be, you know. Not awkward. But she hadn't expected this. She grimaces, looking helpless as Rue makes it clear that she's heading off. "Um…" She looks back to Sable and Elaine, frowning. "Do I need t' give you two some space? I can head out with Rue, or up t' the studio." She frowns. Again. She's not sure what else to do.
Elaine frowns heavily, looking between Quinn and Rue. Oh, this is not what she had anticipated. "You guys don't need to leave or anything. I didn't mean to start anything." She looks back towards Sable. "Don't need to have any kind of conversation or space."
"If y' say so," Sable replies, voice a little slow, words dragging with reluctant concession, "'n' if that is yer wish 'n' will. But I'm th' guest here, 'n' I came t' cause no harm. Only t' play music so," she dips her head, "understandin' mebbe my persona ain't particularly grata, I beg, like… tolerance, 't least? So's I c'n perform proper 't Quinn's show, eh?"
Rue's already made her way out, and that has Quinn looking kind of helplessly at the door. But her leaving is just going to make things worse, probably, so she turns back to Sable and Elaine and offers a smile. "She'll be back. Rue is Rue, she…." Think of an excuse, Quinn, think. "I dunno, but she'll be back." Think fail! She keeps that smile on as she slides over a bit towards Elaine's way, looking between her and Sable. "Anyway…"
"I know. We're here for Quinn," Elaine says, looking between Sable and the aforementioned Irishwoman. "So we can easily just focus on that, right? D-Does it matter if I left for a few minutes? Cause I'm not seeing what the problem is."
"I wasn't seein' no problem, neither," Sable says, dipping her head, "'n' yer right, what a lady does in th' powder room's 'er own damn business. Not my place t' inquire 'r intrude. Forgiveness begged, 'n' apologies offered." Her contrition is stark enough that it would almost seem facetious, were it not for the simple regret and earnest in her eyes.
Quinn rolls her shoulders a bit, thinking to make a comment about how she was jsut curious, but she lets it drop for the moment. "So, uh… who wants t' play Rock Band or somethin' until Adel gets here? Or Rue gets back, whichever comes first." Probably not the best solution, but Quinn's a bit of a loss for how to move this away. "Or we can head on up t' the studio…"
"I don't care," Elaine replies, coolly. Her gaze shifts around the room, then towards the door, fingers touching her pocket as if to reach in, but they remain there, unmoving. She doesn't pull anything from her pocket, however.
"Beggin' yer pardon, but that's another untruth," Sable says, dipping in yet another, still lower deferential bow, "but I won't press y' on it. I figure… yeah," she looks to Quinn, "studio sounds real good. Get us some better vibes flowin'. That sound arright?" she casts a glance towards Elaine. Truce?
"Mmm." Quinn glances over at Elaine worriedly, as if wanting to confirm that this plan of action is acceptable to her as well. "Someone needs t' stay down here so Rue knows where t' come when we get back," she notes, having genuinely not thought of this before now. "Or- actually, she can just call me."
Elaine's eyes flicker to Quinn for a moment. "I'll stay, if you want. Don't want to just leave Rue hanging or anything. Unless you wanted to just let her call…" She shrugs a little.
Sable gives a huff. "All this fuckin' indecision's givin' me a rash. We got a job t' do. Show goes on, 'n' all that. I'ma go warm up," she taps her fretboard smartly, twice, "'n' no fuckin' call f'r this t' be so goddamn off. Le's jus' find our legs t'gether, eh? No point in fannin' no flames."
"Someday," Quinn starts as she turns to face Sable, before taking a step towards the door, "I'm going t' teach you t' speak normal people's English," she teases, before looking over to Elaine. "Only if you want. I'd rather you come with, though. Rue'll be fine, I'm sure."
"I'm not fanning any flames. You're making a lot of assumptions, Sable." Elaine protests, her eyes flickering to Quinn. "Nah, I'll go upstairs with you. We should get to work practicing soon, anyways…"
"Fuck normal people's English," Sable says, flashing a bright if hard smile, "I'm a conduit f'r poetry, is what I am. Can't shut that off." She rolls her shoulder. "Whatever y' say, hon," this to Elaine, "assumptions sounds like th' sorta thing I'd make. I'll work on that, then."
Quinn steps back, placing a hand on Elaine's shoulder and squeezing as she looks over at Sable. "I think it's time t' move on," she says a bit more seriously this time. "Time t' head up t' the studio, play some music, an' have some fun." And with that, she drops that conversation, taking a twirling step towards the door - not without a bit of a stumble - as she whistles. "Come on, guys. We're almost there." There, not meaning the studio this time.
