Participants:
| Scene Title | Nothing Weird Here |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A reunion at Brian's apartment involves dinner and conversation |
| Date | February 24, 2011 |
Confucius Plaza — Brian's Apartment
The apartment smells like chicken.
The robot head known as Ted still hangs proudly above the TV, not too far from it the board labelled 'OTHERS' at the top. The members of the adventure club eaching having their stick figure drawing stuck to the board. It had come down after he apologized to Calvin and Nora. But in more recent days, it has been reposted. With new evidence that the Others are dangerous. Lene however has been re-drawn this time with less large circle-boobs and her description has been changed to :ugly. Calvin and Joshua's stick figures are posted next to each other. A sticky below them with the words STONE COLD KILLERS
Sledgehammer
It has been a Peter Gabriel marathon today. In honor of the guest… of honor.
A Brian had recently returned with new clothes for Eileen. He was even so kind to get her a selection. Three t-shirts. A hello kitty t-shirt, a 'No Money No honey' t-shirt, and a note that says 'invisible shirt'. Also a few pair of jeans are included and a pair of large Yogi Bear slippers.
In the kitchen, Brian is currently frying tortillas on the stove. The sound of sizzling as the flour tortillas are laid across the boiling vegetable oil crackles to the bedrooms. Though it is slightly deafened by Peter Gabriel. The babies are in the master bedroom with another Brian who is currently feeding the pair of them.
The door is closed, as well as the door leading to what is currently Eileen's room. The cooked tortilla is lifted and dumped onto his plate, a new tortilla then dumped onto the frying pan.
A pocket full of guilt is what provided the funding for a couple of paper wrapped packages and a paper cone in one of Delia's arms while the other carries a round wire cage covered in a cloth. Nick dropped her off a while ago and stuffed all the money in his wallet into her hand, making the excuse that he was going to keep looking for his sister's boyfriend and father.
It wasn't so long ago that the redhead was the one being visited. Slowly, her feet move one in front of the other as she tries to keep her balance and not fatigue while climbing up the stairs. It takes a long time for her to finally make it up to the apartment, twenty minutes at least. She's not good with stairs yet, or running, but every new day gives her a little more.
Three knocks announce her presence to the occupants inside as she waits nervously on the other side of the door.
There's no need for keys when you're a phaser. Although Sam learned yesterday that not knocking can result in embarrassing situations whereby you see your brother’s squeeze in her underthings. Ew. But then, this is Brian’s apartment. If there’s ladies in their underthings, she’d want to know anyways. It came as no surprise that she didn’t bother bringing a key to the apartment.
Yet Sam is stopped in her tracks at the redhead in the hall. Hazel eyes widening, she steps closer to Delia, a bright smile tugging at her features. “You’re…” her cheeks flush slightly, the memory of all of the unpleasantness that Sam had apparently caused. “…you’re okay!” The instinct in the petite auburn haired woman is to tug the other into a hug, but the chatterbox manages to freeze before she tugs Delia into a tight hug. Right. Personal boundaries. Her arms drop as she shoots Delia an easier smile, more confident at her own feelings. “Just a sec— “ she quips before walking through the door.
She turns on her heel once on the other side, taking care to unbolt it and open it for the other woman. “Welcome~” she chimes.
Eileen isn't sure which shirt offends her sensibilities more — fortunately, it only took her a few minutes of deliberation to come up with a simple solution to her dilemma. She steps out of the bedroom in bare feet, a pair of low-rise jeans that hug her hips and emphasize the slenderness of her legs, and one of the shirts turned inside-out so No Money No Honey is not on display. She would be angrier at Brian for his selection if she didn't feel that there were a hundred other things that deserved her ire more.
Take, for instance, the fact that she still doesn't know what's become of Ethan or Gabriel — only that the barrier separating her from them has finally fallen, and she wasn't there when it did. She shuts the bedroom door behind her and feels along its frame with the tips of her fingers, using touch to navigate the unfamiliar apartment now that she's left the bedroom and the nesting pigeons that helped her coordinate her clothes from the other side of the window. The sound of voices has her hesitating, unsure whether she should venture the rest of the way out or retreat back inside until Brian's visitors are gone.
Brian looks over his shoulder at the 'Welcome~'. Turning sharply in response to the sound of his fiancee he tilts his head. "What are you doing here?" He asks. "I was just looking for you at the house." He murmurs. Eyes narrowing some. To see him, probably isn't a good reason. As he's everywhere. Turning some to Eileen's arrival he frowns deeply.
"Foiled again."
The frying pan is taken off the stove and set on a different burner that isn't turned on. Taking a few steps away, Winters glances over to Samara. "Who'—" He cuts himself off. "Hi Delia." Then Brian is present with Eileen already in his apartment, and Delia arriving. "I'm not sleeping with anyone." He feels compelled to point out to Samara quickly.
Walking over to Eileen, he goes to take her hand gently. "Here. I'll take you to the couch. I'm making tacos. You want me to open the window?"
Delia's arm curls protectively around the packages with the threat of the hug and her face blanches. "No!" She cries out, but it's a little too late as the other woman's already decided that she's not going to crush the prescious presents that the redhead's brought for her recovering friend. "Sorry.. It's just… they're fragi— "
Deeing ileen being led through to the livingroom has the young woman murmuring a quick apology and racing toward the other woman. "Eileen! Oh my goodness, you're okay." Relatively, as Nick put it. Pausing in her step, she slowly follows the brunette and one of the Brians toward the couch with her armloads of gifts. "Nick— Nick bought you a bunch of things. I picked them out." Seeing what Eileen's wearing, she gives a weak smile and places all of them onto the coffee table except the round cage.
"You might want to open them now… Here. I know you always have birds with you— " She pulls the cloth off the cage to reveal a small melba finch. The little bird flutters around the cage emitting a meep meep meep sort of chirp. "I figured it would remind you of me— See it's got red feathers and it can't sing." Smile.
"Oh," is Sam's quiet response over her shoulder to Brian as she steps back into the apartment. "Uh…" her face reddens considerably at his narrowed eyes. "Just.. ' she's nearly beet red as she shuffles a little further into the room. "I went to the Financial District early today and I was kind of sort of in the area and thought maybe— " she frowns slightly as she breaks her thought. "Can I hold one of the babies?" there's nearly something pleading in her eyes. "Just for like a minute. Just one. That's all." Her eyebrows escalate high on her forehead.
Her eyebrows escalate higher on her forehead at the notion that Brian is sleeping with no one, a vague feeling of insult washing over her, but not enough to make a quip about it. Her eyes do, however, flick between the two women. Back and forth. Back and forth. "Hi… " she's a little hesitant in general, "I.. I'm Sam. Or Sami. Or Samara, I guess." She shuffles a little further into the apartment, pausing to shoot Ted a lopsided grin.
Eileen's hand flinches away from Brian's. She's a small creature, but a proud one too, and it takes her a great deal of effort to keep her voice level when she tells him simply, "No, thank you." The brace she wears on her wrist restricts her movement, and when she lowers her hand she does so more stiffly than she probably intends. A shower, clean clothes and brush pulled through her hair have transformed her into something that resembles herself much more than the half-drowned animal he and Nick dredged out of the tunnel; the cut on her opposite hand is the only injury she suffered that required stitches, and although she's still walking with the slightest of limps, the worst she has to show for her failed attempt on Sylar's life is a hairline fracture.
Pale eyes blink on instinct when Delia takes the cover off the cage, and through the little finch's she takes in the room around her, gravitating toward the couch that Brian indicated. The expression on her face is pinched, though not in displeasure — there's a tightness around her mouth, which Brian knows happens sometimes when she doesn't know what she should say.
She is not shown much kindness from other people. "Hello," is what she finally settles on, uneasily, directed at Samara. She lacks the energy to keep her face as guarded as she normally might. Quiet confusion creeps into her haggard features.
Why are there presents.
Hand dropping, Brian frowns lightly at Eileen. Turning from her 'bitch' is mouthed to himself as he makes his way back to the kitchen. Moving over to the frying pan, he peers in at the tortilla before going after Samara. A light smile crawls up his lips at her greeting. 'Sorry' he mouths to her, leaning forward to plant a kiss against her cheek. He's been more gruff since Eric's death. With attempts at humor every now and then, but mostly a sedated version of himself.
"Samara is my fiancee." Brian explains to Eileen. Before nodding to Samara, gesturing towards the backroom. A knowing yet sort of sad smile delivered to her on that subject. "I'm back there." He lets her know before glancing to Delia. "How did… Did Sameye bring you here?"
"Uhm— No." Delia starts, sitting near Eileen and handing her the gifts one by one to open while she tries to delicately explain her current situation. "Nick dropped me off, I wanted to see Eileen and uhm.. He thought it would be a good idea." A nice way of saying he agreed much too quickly, that he probably just wanted to be free of her company.
Turning toward the young woman, she watches a few of the gifts open and makes a small commentary on each one. "Flowers, because you always have a flower in your hair. I thought you might like them." Dhalias, like Eibhlin's explanation of the redhead's name from a dream they shared once. "And uhm… clothes." A sheepish glance is cast quickly toward Brian, "I didn't think you'd have much.. after.. falling. And I didn't know if anyone went and got you some. I've never seen you wear pants before— so I thought the skirt might— " And she's digging herself a big pit to fall into with their taco making host.
"Good to meet you," she says warmly to Eileen, even if she doesn't know who the other woman is; she's getting used to the abnormal of life. "Sorry if— " she frowns lightly, while the apology extends into her very tone, "— I know I wasn't expected. I was kind of in the area." Kind of. "There's just something I need to do…" hold a baby. To prove she can.
Eyelids dip down at the kiss against her cheek while Sami's lips curl into an easy smile. Her shoulders shrug lightly at the mouthed apology, mouthing 'It's okay' in turn before disappearing into the bedroom to reemerge with Kasha. There's no easiness about the holding of the baby; in fact, it could be the most awkward baby-holding known to man. There's no easiness in the touch, an odd discomfort felt by poor Kasha in the nervous woman's embrace. A somewhat pained glance is cast to Brian as she tugs the baby closer to herself. Silly faces she can do. Holding a baby… this is new.
Eileen rubs the flower petals between her fingers, exploring their texture before she snaps off one of the blooms at the stem, cradles it in her hand, and raises it to her nose and mouth to smell before she tucks it behind her left ear. The clothes receive similar treatment, and Delia picked well; she will much prefer the wool skirt and crochetted shawl she's just been gifted than what Brian picked out. They'll make her feel much more at home in her own skin. She folds one of theo the other pieces, a blouse with lace trim, in her lap and deliberates how she should respond while being intimately aware that silence is a response, too, and that she's probably giving the other people in the room the wrong impression.
"Congratulations," she says as the finch regards Samara and the infant in her arms with the kind of open curiosity Eileen herself does not often show, "on your engagement.
"This is all very thoughtful. I'm only— I'm a little overwhelmed."
As Samara moves to the back, the door opens and Kasha is deposited into Samara's arms. Brian's chin dipping towards the rest of the apartment. "Take her back out. I need to lay Emily down." Winters murmurs gently. The bedroom door closes gently right after Samara moves back out.
"Uh. Sameye, this is Eileen. Old friend of mine." Kinda. "She's on the council. I think you saw her at the island." She blind. That much is indicated by pointing to his eyes. But then this little bird is here so he can't get away with that anymore. Turning to Delia, Brian gives an odd smile to her. "Welcome to my home." He mumbles, teeth baring in what might be a smile. A glance to the OTHERS board behind him, has his eyes widening slightly. She knows half those people. And likes them. So Brian is busy trying to keep Delia's attention off the wall with the bulletin board and the robot head. "Hungry, Deebag?"
"You're getting married!" Delia's outburst ruffles the feathers of the little finch somewhat and it receives a small apologetic glance before the redhead focuses on the couple again. "That's— Wow. Don't let my sister know you're getting married, she'll probably try to take the whole thing over." She pauses there before lifting one shoulder in a shrug and giving a sheepish smile, "You probably don't know her anyway. Congratulations, on getting married. Brian's great."
Focusing back on Eileen, the young redhead's uneasy smile grows a little more tense and falters a bit. "I'm glad they found you. Nick's— Uhm— Nick's looking for Gabriel and your dad now. We were there all day yesterday and today. I couldn't find anything but that just means that they're probably awake or out of my range." Not dead. Never dead. Folding her hands and resting them on one of her knees, Delia chews on her lip for a little while and stares down at her fingers. "I'm not hungry thanks, I had some fruity pebbles uhm…" Yesterday.
Kasha is held a little closer to Sam's body as she eases into the baby, trying to remind herself that she's capable. "See… you're okay…" her voice takes on a high pitched musical lilt as she talks to the baby, a lilt that persists as she acknowledges both of the women, "Thanks— yeah, Brian's great~" until she realizes she's maintained it, clearing her throat and turning back to face the women, her smile becomes a little sheepish. "Yeah, I'm very lucky," she says in turn as her cheeks flush a brighter pink as she considers the events of the last few months, evidently she's in one of those moods.
"Eat something, Delia," Eileen suggests gently, and it is a suggestion — from one friend to another. There's no authority in her voice as she wraps the shawl around her shoulders and grazes the edge of her thumb along the gold band on the ring finger of the appropriate hand. At some point during her time below ground, she turned twenty-two. Time does not slow down for anyone, or for any reason; as she had for Delilah, she experiences a solemn kind of admiration for Samara and Brian once the father-to-be's announcement has finished settling in.
Most of them might not live long enough to start families. She herself is not in a position where she can exchange those kind of vows. It takes a different kind of courage to do as Brian and Samara are. "Thank you. For what you've done for me."
Brian goes back to preparing tacos. His cooked chicken is brought out to his plates, placed in the crisp tortillas. Going to the fridge a bag of cheese is brought over, a handful being sprinkled on each tortilla. "You hungry, Sameye?" Winters asks, expecting her to say no. "Thank you, Eileen." Winters smiles. "Deebag. You need to eat. I have yogurt if you don't want a taco. But it's good cooking. So I'll be kind of offended if you say no."
Winters brings out a few more plates, setting them out on his counter. Going back to cooking, oil is sprayed on the frying pan again. Another piece of chicken tossed onto it. Sizzle sizzle. Brian looks over his shoulder to Samara holding the baby. A slow smile creeps up his lips as he watches her a little bit too long. Grease jumping up onto his hand.
"Fuck my pants”
"I'll uhm.. I'll have a taco then. I don't want to offend you or anything. I just— " A half smile makes its way lopsided onto her face and she shrugs her shoulder again. "You know." Didn't contribute or have anything to give in exchange. "Do you need help with anything? I can— oh!!" She jumps up when Brian burns himself and hurries to the kitchen. "Get it in cold water, not running. I'll finish." There's no guarantee that she'll do as good a job as the replicator but she's no Lucille in the kitchen.
Trying to mimic his previous actions, she finally settles for just cooking the chicken while leaving the plate arrangements to Brian. It's obvious that the thin redhead is hungry. After the smell of the food gets to her, her stomach starts growling like a feral dog.
"You have little hands~ And little feet~" Sami sings to Kasha again with a bright smile, her features taking on an easier edge. "I'm not even breaking you~" her voice quiets considerably at this fact as she wanters back to the kitchen. "I think— " she inhales the aroma of the food "— I think I am hungry," she nods at the revelation, mildly relieved to have her appetite back. It's been a particularly trying few days.
When Brian burns her hand she gives a little gasp and wince. "You okay, babe?" she frowns lightly and considers helping set the table, but she's not confident in this whole baby-holding thing, making her think better of it. "Do you like tacos, Eileen? Brian is really good at cooking," she's thankful she's not the one at the stove— as should everyone else be. And then, late on the uptake she turns to Delia, "So you have a sister? I do too and a brother.. I'm in the middle." She shrugs.
Between Delia and Samara, Brian is in good hands; Eileen does not rise from the couch, but her mouth makes a shape of mild concern and she places a hand on the furniture's arm in case she needs to stand. "I don't dislike them," she answers Samara. Tact. Diplomacy. Whatever she wants to call it, it's the very careful, neutral tone, which is either a reflection of her position in the network or a direct result of it. "I traveled before I joined the Ferry. The kind of food you eat here in America isn't exactly what I'm used to, but I'm adapting and so is my stomach. I'm sure it will be fine as long as he isn't trying to get my goat again."
Yes, Brian. She realizes the clothes were intentional.
Whaaaaaaat?
Pulling his hand back, he frowns down at his burning hand. "Hold on." He says with agitation clear. Making his way back to the back room where Brian waits for Brian. The door opens and closes. A few moments pass until another Brian comes back out the door. His hand is now burn-less. Oh to be a clone. Making his way back into the kitchen he smiles at Delia. "Thanks." Nearing Samara and Kasha he smiles brightly. Leaning in to plant a kiss against Samara's forehead. "You're going to make a great mom." He murmurs. Then his eyes widen slightly. "One day." He adds quickly.
"What?" He asks of Eileen curtly. "You want goat?" He frowns lightly. "Goat is expensive in New York. I don't think I could get it in Chinatown very easily." Yeah. Take that.
Stepping back into the kitchen behind Delia, he glances over his shoulder. "I made some iced tea. You guys want some?"
"Goat? No it's not. You can get goat cheese every— Oh… It's a joke." Delia's voice is somewhat breathy as lets out a light laugh ~ha ha~ like it didn't go over her head at all. Self-conscious, she turns her head back down to the task of cooking chicken rather than trying to follow the conversation between the old sort of friends.
A quick glance at Samara has her smiling a little at the family scene and then it falters and fades as her eyes shift toward Eileen. "Brian, is this done?" Meaning, Brian are you good to take over cooking again? She holds up the pan of chicken and stirs it a little with the spatula she's using. Her eyes shift toward Eileen once again, it's obvious she wants to get back to sitting with her.
"Am I?" Sam asks quietly. "Doctor seemed to thi— " oh. Right. This is not common knowledge. Like Brian, Sam's eyes widen slightly as she hugs Kasha a little closer, placing a light kiss on the baby's head.
Instinctively, she tacks on to the easiest bit of conversation she can. This time it further's Brian's cause, "Isn't goat really stringy?" Sam queries with a tilt of her head. "I thought it was or is that lamb.. wait I think lamb is actually soft and tender instead of rough and string-like. I once heard that a person could floss with goat meat. Although I don't think that's actually true just one of those ironic things people say in order to make a joke or something."
She clears her throat. See? Nothing amiss here. Nothing weird here.
Eileen is getting that feeling some people get when they're aware of something happening in a room on a different plane than the one they're on, and while she isn't a psychic, she doesn't need to be — Samara says the word doctor and the Englishwoman's expression sharpens.
She does not say anything, anything at all. What she does do is wait for Delia to rejoin her while she starts picking at the puzzle pieces in her head and focusing on how they might fit together. There is plenty amiss.
Plenty weird.
Brian is obviously not ready to go back to cooking. Because he has his back turned to Delia and remains that way. He glances, "Oh. Flip it." He murmurs with a little smiler. "Goat is gross. So I don't know why Eileen wants it so bad." But finally, he turns to take over the cooking again. Giving Delia a little pat on the wais to say, 'I'll take it from here rook.' The now tender chicken is taken out with a pair of tongs, placed on one of the crisp tortillas.
"Sour cream?" Brian asks of the room in general as the refrigerator is opened. A tub of sour cream taken out. Closing it he goes to put it over. There's a small glass bowl of tomatoes and another with diced up onions. "I have an avocado if you guys want it." Brian points out.
Getting the plates ready, they are soon passed over the table. Glancing over at Eileen, his brow flattens out some before he looks over to Samara. "I think you're right baby. It's probably not true." His lips hang up in a half smile as he watches his baby mama in amusement.
"Yes please!" Delia says enthusiastically to the offer of avocado, for someone that wasn't going to eat, she's actually pretty hungry. Moving over to the couch, she offers a hand to Eileen to help her up and to the table. "The flower looks pretty. There's a stand just downstairs on the sidewalk, they sell them pretty cheap, I could probably come by and get you one every day until I leave." Perhaps a change of clothing as well.
"I'm going home on Monday or Tuesday, after everything is all settled," she explains further. "Until they get vaccines or it's over, I'm going to stay there." She doesn't mention the Island by name anymore, just refers to it as home. "Nick's getting masks and gloves and things… to keep everyone that hasn't caught it safe."
Sam's cheeks redden further as she hoists the baby a little higher; muscles aren't used to holding a kid of any size for this long. "What do you think Kasha?~ Avacado?~ " her smile eases again. "I can cut the avacado if I— " her eyes flick to the baby in her arms as she disappears into one of the rooms only to return baby-less.
"I can't screw up cutting vegetables, right?" Maybe it's wishful thinking, but Sam's kitchen prowess is far under par. Very far under par. She smiles tightly as she fishes for the cutting board and two knives with which to cut. Unfortunately Sam doesn't know the right tool for the task, opting for what are, altogether the wrong knives to the point of being inappropriate. A carving knife— far too large and sharp for this task.
Eileen steadies herself with a hand on Delia's forearm. She's still reluctant to accept help, but less so than she'd been with Brian. The finch steers her toward the table, and she gingerly pulls out a seat. "You know I feel about avocados," she tells Brian. Like Delia had said: Yes please!
"I appreciate the flowers, and the offer, but that won't necessary — I'm leaving tonight. Nicholas hasn't had much luck, and I need to touch base with Raith in case they've made contact with him up at Pollepel." She sits down at the table, one leg folded deftly beneath her, the other resting the very tips of her toes against the floor. "I'm going mad not looking myself."
and then they talked and had dinner together.
