Participants:
| Scene Title | Old Blue |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Veronica and Winters play dress up to go gather information about Case and the Triads. Brian's hair becomes blue and he gets upset. :( |
| Date | March 2 2009 |
Dorchester Towers — Veronica's Apartment
After lounging about the house, doing most of her research on the laptop for the past day and a half, Veronica has apparently recovered. She strides out of the bedroom with her usual aire of purpose and confidence. Her cheek still has a touch of that bruise, though it's mostly been covered by makeup. She's dressed for the outside world, instead of the lounge clothes she's been wearing the last several hours. Boots, jeans, sweater, a coat under her arm that she tosses on the couch where Brian happens to be sprawled.
"We've got two targets now. No time for rest," she says brusquely. "We're to find Deckard's location," she tells her partner. "And of course, Case, still. Any ideas? I figured we should return to Chinatown, find out what we can there."
Awaking with a start, Brian kicks a foot over at whatever is attacking him in his prone state. Swinging his arm out, Brian springs up with the coat on his chest. His eyes going wide he looks around groggily to spot Veronica. Letting out a 'bwuh' the young man takes a moment to let out an extended yawn. Scooting up on the couch he gives a shake of his head as if to adjust himself to his surroundings. "I— bwuh."
Taking a moment, he puts his feet down on the ground, leaning against the back of the couch. "Ideas. I've heard that a good twenty minutes of making out enhances the brainstorming process and allows agents to perfrom better." The Agent murmurs as he rubs at his eyes sleepily. "Don't you think Chinatown might be kinda.." he lets out an extended 'uhh' "Hot for us?"
She sits down on the edge of the couch. "It's the last place we saw either of them." She sighs. "We could go incognito…?" she says with a shrug. "Different get ups. Punk or edgier. Frumpier or whatever. I could wear a wig. I'm pretty versatile with disguise. I also have stage makeup - latex and all that - can change the shapes of our faces a bit. Colored contacts, glasses. Lots of props." She picks up her Advil bottle from the side table, where she'd left it earlier, and shakes out four at once. Girl's going to get an ulcer at this rate. She tosses them into her mouth and swallows, then picks up the bottle of Fuji water from the side table to chase down the painkillers. "If they're smart, they're far from Chinatown but maybe we can ask around."
Sticking his elbows to his knees, the young man rests his face into his hands. "Disguises. Somehow sound much less appealing when you actually have to do it than when you're a kid." The Agent states in a whiny tone. Looking over at her he takes a deep breath. She seemed to be ignoring his advice about the twenty minutes of pre game makeouts. Frowning at her advil, "You okay?" He asks, well knowing she was proobably going to be all pissy with him being concerned for her. "If we could get Case's apartment, break in and take a look around. That'd be awesome."
"If we knew where it was, or even if he had one. Don't think there's one in his name or the Company would know about it and have been all over it long before you or I were here," Veronica says, taking another gulp of water. "Yeah. Head still feels like a ton of bricks but I'm dealing with it. It's probably psychosomatic, but as long as my brain thinks the Advil will help, then good enough for me." She smiles — her face transforming with it, those dimples and bright white teeth making her seem almost like a normal girl of 27 instead of an agency weapon.
"Wish I could think better though. We could go as we are, and flash the FBI badges and see that Asian lady who took your side, see if maybe she has a clue? Or we can go undercover, look like two totally different people, and see what we see. We need to find out about this Deckard guy too - and if you look like you, he might try killing you this time. Bummer for the other Brian — love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation…"
"Right." Brian says in response to Veronica's words about Case's lack of apartment situation. " Have you been eating?" Brian asks, already knowing the answer having been around her all day. Though it's nice to ask anyways. "Chinatown." Brian murmurs, tilting his head. "I don't know if flashing our badges would be a good idea. Think about it. We flash our badges, the chinese all their are gonna be well connected with each other. They tell their triad friends we've been poking our noses around with FBI badges. We got in a shootout and left bodies without any police involvement. That might not look exactly FBI-ish. They could get suspicious.
When she starts talking about other Brian, he flashes her a quizzical look. "I don't have replicates out right now. What are you talking about?" He asks with a little frown. "Flying under the radar and gently poking around would probably be our best bet, baby."
She nods at the argument against the faux-legal route. "Good point." She rubs her head as he talks about his replicates. "Right. I didn't mean another you but whomever it was he had you confused for, if it wasn't that you'd known him before hand. It doesn't seem that was the case, as he thought he'd seen you recently, right? So just a really wacky coincidence." She shrugs. "All right. Whatcha wanna be? I think if we just throw a dark wash in your hair, maybe some contacts, some glasses or something, you'll be good to go. Amazing how stupid people are," she says with a chuckle. "I'll do a wig, different kinds of clothes. Any suggestions?" She looks at him appraisingly.
"I bet no one would recognize you in a bikini." Brian suggests helpfully. He's only here to be helpful after all. Giving a little smile to her he seems to just shrug off the talk of other hims and mistaken hims and people he knew before. It's a confusing topic and he would much rather take the easy route of avoiding it. "You have all that stuff, dye? And contacts?" The agent asks, turning to look at her and give her an appraising look as well on to what she should actually wear.
Veronica nods. "I do. I was undercover a lot, on the account I look so young. The dye's just temp, it'll wash out." She gets up and heads to a closet, taking out a metal "train case," the sort that professional makeup artists use to carry supplies. She brings it to the coffee table and unlatches it. It opens like a tackle box, with many compartments full of goodies — pancake makeup, contacts, fake lashes, latex, shadows, contact cases, glasses. "I think sort of … punk/edgy might work. Not enough for people to stare, but enough for people to remember the oddness, rather than the reality." She taps a pair of green-lens glasses. "You wear these, they won't remember your eyes, but the fact you had green lens glasses on, see?"
Brian gives a sigh when the case comes out, eyeing it with a bit of hesitation. "Punk edgy." He repeats dully, staring at the case. "That does not sound fun." He mutters sadly. "Alright." He says reluctantly, leaning forward to take the glasses. Flipping them out he goes to place them gently on his ears and the bridge of his nose. " Do edgy punks not wear bikinis?" He asks, also in a sad tone. He just cannot win today.
She smirks a bit. "I'm guessing you have nothing edgy in the closet. Do you at least have at least… jeans we can rip a bit, black boot kinda shoes, and a black coat that doesn't look like something an FBI agent would wear?" she says with a glance at him. "The hair black, green glasses, maybe a metro-sexual looking scarf of lime green or something…. it can work." She rummages through the tackle box and pulls out a small bottle of hair dye, single serving as it were. "Go put this in your hair, and sit for twenty minutes without rinsing. I'll gather up your outfit." She actually smiles again, looking happy as she plans out the disguise.
"I have what The Company has given me." Brian answers, giving a frown, going to stand up off the couch. Going to pick up the bottle he gives a nod. "Alright give me—Metro sexual? Oh come on. Don't you think we're going a little.." He gives an exasparated sigh before taking his little bottle of dye and going to the bathroom to do as he's informed. "Whatever."
She laughs merrily and heads into the bedroom. "In about twenty minutes, take a shower. Leave your facial hair, I think…" she says as she disappears behind the door that closes behind her. Music flips on — this time it's "Tainted Love" by Soft Cel — the girl clearly has a love affair with Eighties Music.
When the shower is still running, she comes out. She's dressed in black platform boots tied with skull and cross bones laces, pink and black striped tights, a black pleated skirt adorned with a chain, and lime green sweater. A long black leather duster to go over it all is still held on her lap. Most striking of course is her face and hair — her hair is black rather than its typical dark chestnut brown, with bright pink extensions throughout. The makeup is overdone, black kohl around the eyes, which are a striking and artificial blue. The lipstick is a too dark, vampy red, a lip ring in place over the full bottom lip.
A pile of clothing awaits him on the couch.
The water finally shuts off. Grabbing his towel, Brian steps out of the shower to wrap the towel around his waist. Having shaved while in the shower, the young man doesn't look at the mirror at first when he exits. But soon enough, he does. And his eyes go wide. That's not black…
"It's blue." He says in a flat tone, surprised. The door flies open and the half naked man comes out in a rage.
"I hate you." He says flatly as he comes back out into the living room. His gaze goes to the clothes then to Veronica's get up. "You look ridiculous, which is why I won't beat the crap out of you right here." He states firmly, looking a bit miffed as he moves toward the couch to get his clothes.
"I look hot. You look ridiculous," she says cheerily enough, dimples emerging in either cheek as she grins. "And you probably couldn't if you tried," she adds, to add insult to injury. "But believe it or not, I didn't do that on purpose. I knew I had a bottle of black and blue, but wasn't sure which it was. The little dots that indicates color fell off." She points to her own. "It would have just given mine a blue tint, but not shown up as good as it does in yours, so it works well enough." Call her Mrs. Brightside. She points to the clothes. "I tore up your jeans a little, and you should fit in that belt." There's a metal-studded black belt on top of the jeans. The rest of the ensemble is a gray sweater and a black coat, all his own — or, the Company's, rather. On top is a black and red striped scarf and fingerless black gloves, plus the green-lensed glasses. "Put those on."
Tilting his head at her he gives a loud sigh. "I bet. You planned this whole thing out. Edgy." He says with distaste in his voice. "We're a freak show. How are people not going to remember us?" The replicator asks holding up his towel as he walks over to the pile of clothes. He gives another huffy sigh. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this." Picking up the clothes, he shoots a glare over at her. Tucking it under his arm, he makes his way back towards the bathroom to get dressed. "I would manhandle you." He adds, by the by.
"They'll remember the abnormal. The hair, the outfits. Not your actual face," she tosses back. "Besides, it's kinda cute, you have to admit," she says with a grin as she pulls on her coat. "If, by manhandle, you mean grope and fondle, I'm sure you'd try, but in reality, you'd be flat on your back in ten seconds or less, with my knee ensuring that you never manhandle anyone ever again." Big talk from a small girl. "And we're not freaks. Have you seen what some people wear out there? Plus we look… younger… stupider. People will not think we're dangerous — just a little different. Turn on the charm… we're edgy but very amiable and gentle punks. The new generation of hippy."
"If by cute you mean retarded." He calls out from the bathroom as he drops the towel and starts getting dressed. He leaves the door open to better mock her with. "Why does every woman who works for the company think she's Bruce Lee-na? And I would never try to grope or fondle you. I respect you." Then he quickly pokes his head from out of the bathroom. "Unless you want me to. And then I would only be following orders. Of course." Grinning he goes back in to finish getting dressed. "Going for the stupid look. I can do that." He says with mock pride.
"Maybe because those of us who have been with the Company for more than, oh, an hour and a half, have been trained?" she says with a shake of that black-and-pink head. "I'm a fifth-degree black belt in Hapkido and a first-degree black belt in Taekwondo," she tells him, in a matter-of-fact tone; she's not bragging. It's just true. "I know you don't remember if you have any thing like that up your sleeves, but likely not. Do you know some martial arts moves? Some combat? Probably. Better than four years of police training, followed by another five years of Company training? Doubtful." She loads her gun in the holster that will be hidden by her gun. "We should stop by the facility to grab some tranq guns for Case, in case we see him, too."
Brian was being trained by the Company, and it helps to be able to have ten or more lessons at once. But even with all his training he was still new and fresh. Don't tell him that. "I'm an eighth degree black belt in Kickyoasso." He snorts as he comes out of the bathroom. As she continues on he opens his mouth and lets it flap in imitation of the words that she was saying. "Uhh. Where'd I put my gun?" He asks, searching around. Turning around he flourishes the stupid clothes she picked out for his stupid blue hair. "Am I cute?" He asks flatly.
"Adorable. Like a smurf. Or maybe Cookie Monster. Or a CareBear." She knows she's not making it any better, but clearly that's not her intent. "So, we'll head to the facility, grab some tranqs for that rat bastard and then head on to Chinatown," she reassesses, handing him his gun with a shake of her head. "Kickyoassyo is so oldschool," she adds with a toss of her hair as she opens the door. "C'mon, Blue Boy."
"So you had sexual fantasies about carebears when you were younger?" Brian asks with a little smirk as he takes his gun and tucks it into his pants under his sweatshirt. "Learning more and more about you everyday." He teases as he settles his sweater. Turning to follow her he gives a little smirk, going on her heels.
 March 2nd: Do The Right Thing |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 March 2nd: Rendezvous |