Participants:
| Scene Title | Nothing Interesting |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | …is what Peyton professes to be able to do, when Isabelle tries to figure out just what Peyton can do. |
| Date | December 13, 2011 |
The Hub, The Lucky Lady
It’s the middle of the afternoon at everyone’s favorite water hole, The Lucky Lady has a few patrons. One that’s sleep headfirst on the table, snoring rather loudly. The few candles lit give the room a little light but not much, Isabelle Ashford’s blue eyes reflect the flames as she stares into them. Rubbing herself from the chill she always feels now that she’s been negated this long. She misses the flames, her flames. She yearns for them. But instead she lifts a mug of that fiery moonshine she brews and swallows a gulp. That burn isn’t even close to the one she longs for, not a chance but it does help.. A little.
The pyrokinetic leans on the bar, Brenda out and about currently. Izzy is taking the slow afternoon in stride, she woke up with the itch to go outside. More than usual.
Giant headphones on her head, coupled with her big dark eyes always give Peyton a look similar to a certain space princess, though that looks a little marred by the blue hair that puffs out around the head band and ear pieces. She moves toward the bar itself, raising a brow at the uncharacteristically pensive look of the barkeep.
"Hey 'Belle," she says, reaching up to pull off the headphones. The tinny, miniaturized tones of an opera come through the little speakers, before Peyton finds the off button on the CD Walkman she has attached to her hip. She rifles through the small bag she carries and comes up with a bag of stale Starburst (of which all the pink ones have already been eaten), two matching rhinestone barrettes, and two cigarettes for Isabelle to choose from, in exchange for her drink.
“Pey, hey girlie.” A faint smile crosses the woman’s lips and she darts a hand out to take the cigarettes. Tucking one behind her ear she leans forward to light the other one with the aid of one of the nearby candles. There’s a light frown on her face as she puts it to her lips to take a long pull, blowing the smoke out up towards the ceiling. “That was needed, been on edge today.” She comments as she sticks the cigarette in her mouth letting it hang on her lips as she goes to pouring Peyton her own drink from the moonshine.
“How ya hanging? I haven’t seen Richard in a few days.” She wonders about her childhood friend and sometimes lover.
"I hear ya. Cigarettes are the one thing I never got a taste for, but today I wish I did," says Peyton with a chuckle. "I could use a bump of something else though. This'll have to do," she says, reaching for the glass and taking a swallow. Her eyes water and she makes a face at the strong taste — it's like drinking cleaning fluid, even when it's made well, really.
She lifts a shoulder. "Oh, he's fine. I think he's out on scav at the moment." She tips her head. "What's got you on edge?" There's more curiosity in the gaze and question than Peyton usually exhibits. For some reason.
“You and me both girl,” in reference to a bump of something. The days of bartending and partying it up at Rapture on her mind as she takes another sip of her moonshine, she and Brenda always seem the most unaffected by the taste. Probably because they had to go through so many batches of tasting to get it to that level of gulpability.
“Yea Magnes told me about it,” she shrugs her shoulder. She is a bit envious that she isn’t out there with them. “I just miss things a bit more today. The outside.. My fire.” she clenches a fist and it shakes with the anxiety and nerves she feels. “Liz and Magnes showing up has changed things.” She doesn’t say much about what it has changed.
Peyton's eyebrow lifts a little at that last statement. She knows what it's changed for her, for K-Mart, for Cardinal. Or what it might change. She takes another sip and nods. "He's an odd duck, Magnes. Liz too. In really different ways. Haven't quite figured out how they survived out in the world and yet look so, I don't know. Shiny."
Peyton Whitney has a terrible poker face, despite making quite a bit of money playing it, right before the world fell apart. She looks down into her glass as she speaks, before taking another swallow and laughing. "I donno, that hurts about the same as sucking in a bunch of blow," she says, wiping her eyes. "Maybe if we snort it."
“Magnes.. Has always been an extremely lucky kid. Now he’s an extremely lucky grown man.” It still shocks her to say it, “I didn’t trust that Liz chick but she’s pretty alright. I like the short do,” Isabelle takes another sip of her moonshine with a grin and licks her lips. “Ahh, well we might end up seizing on the ground foaming at the mouth, Card would be pissed.” She chuckles and shrugs again, “But it could be fun,” snorting it that is. “I’d give anything to dance in the fire high on some coke right now.”
Pouring more moonshine into her glass she takes a healthy sip. She definitely has been drinking more since opening the bar. The fog that liquor brings being the only fog she wants to see through.
Peyton's brows lift as she looks at Isabelle. "So you knew them both before the Hub?" she asks. "Of course you did. You know everyone. Most of the people I knew are dead, I think." The rich and famous, the socialites who hung around them — it's hard to run from ravaging hordes carrying a virus in Louboutins and on ecstasy. Her tone is matter-of-fact; it's something they've all had to accept over the past couple of years.
"Sounds like a crazy time," she adds, regarding the fire dancing. "Wish I could have done something like that." She's never spoken about her ability or lack thereof. Clearly it isn't the same as Isabelle's. "I've always been jealous of Card's." Because he can go outside without fear, among other things.
“No no, just Magnes. We got seperated years ago. I thought he was dead..” That thought makes her sad because she believes her Magnes is dead. But any Magnes is better than a dead Magnes so she’s not complaining. “I guess being the woman who pours the drinks has always given me a wide circle of people,” cuz they aren’t all friends. Not at all. But she does know a lot of people from before The Hub, from before the bomb, from before all this shit went to shit.
“It was an insane time, so much fun.” So much booze, sex, drugs and hard times. Isabelle and Peyton come from two closely related places though Isabelle was more in the dingy backroom parties than hanging with the socialites doing bottle service but those worlds often collided as the after hours made everyone slip into drug induced frenzises. She doesn’t comment on Peyton’s lack of ability. She never knew much about that, she has wondered. “You don’t talk about your ability much at all, never ever manifested?” The blue eyed woman does nod to her about Cardinal. “I’ve always said he’s the luckiest bastard of us all.” And she feels it’s true, she doesn’t even know on how many levels that is true.
"Crazy. Small world. He knew who I was, but you know. From TMZ and such, not like me me." Or did he? The question that pops into her mind makes Peyton frown, slightly, and she looks down into her drink. "Yeah, who knows, we may have bumped elbows and not even known it. There's only so many parties, after all."
When the talk goes to her own ability, Peyton's dark-eyed gaze slides away, and she shrugs. "No. I can't do anything interesting," she murmurs. "And Card's definitely gotten damn lucky. Often and recently." She lifts her glass to that with a smirk, before swallowing the rest of the moonshine, and tapping the glass for another. The assortment of odds and ends to barter with is still out, so it's up to Izzy to choose again.
“TMZ, god Brenda loved that shit.” Izzy often would scream at the bright haired woman to turn it down, she never did. Though Isabelle did sometimes love to hear about all those rich people’s crazy lives. Rehabs, divorces, weight gains and loss, it was real juicy. She snorts at that Richard comment, yes he has been getting lucky. Often. Isabelle continues to pull from the cigarette she’s already got and while she looks over at the assortment of things with a squinted eye. She plucks the stale starburst for Brenda later and pours another drink for Peyton.
“Nothing interesting, I think being able to do anything at all is kind of special yea?”
She leans forward to look Peyton in the eye as she takes another sip from her moonshine. The girl has always interested her, besides her connections to Richard.
Those big dark eyes look back into Isabelle's, before narrowing slightly. "I can't do anything," Peyton says a little slower, each word enunciated, clear, and separated. Perhaps it's the semantics, but Peyton is able to say it and look at Isabelle at the same time without any of those usual tells she's hiding something. For once.
She reaches for the glass and takes a long drink — an attempt to drink it all in one long go.
Instead she begins to cough, spluttering a little, and bringing up her hand to her nose where it burns.
"I take it back about snorting it. Not a good idea," she manages, her voice a bit wheezy and rough at once. She holds out her bag to push the barettes and cigarette back into it. "Thanks for the shine."
The barkeep studies her eyes, she doesn’t see a twitch or falter in Peyton’s glance and so she nods her head and leans back again. The smoke blowing still up towards the ceiling and away from Peyton’s face. “Ok.” It’s a simple admission, she won’t hound the young woman and if she was hiding something it wasn’t like Isabelle wasn’t. The brunette tries not to outright laugh at Peyton’s attempt to swallow that all down in one gulp, she downs her in one but she has had practice and she slams her glass on the surface of the bar with a burp.
There’s a large grin on her face as she folds one arm across her chest and nods as she takes a drag from the newly earned cigarette. “Thanks for coming by, don’t be a stranger now lady.”
Brenda strides in with a battered bag at her side as Peyton prepares to leave, bright pink hair tousled and messy she jumps up and down and waves at Peyton in passing, “See you Hair Twin!”
Isabelle nods to her old friend the ember of the cigarette reflected in her eyes.