Old Friends


lynette_icon.gif veronica3_icon.gif

Scene Title Old Friends
Synopsis Two women meet up unexpectedly after a decade of separation.
Date May 01, 2010

The Subway

The sub-zero temperatures have most of the city's residents indoors, if they can help it, and the streets are mostly empty but for the very determined, the very intrepid, or the very foolish. Most people stay in, if they can, of course, but for those who still have to get from place to place, the subway is probably the safest bet, unless one has a knack for teleportation. The rails are mostly underground, and the places where they are open to the air, the city has done a good job of clearing the snow — easier to clear the snow from a few subway lines than for every street in the city, after all. There are some closures where it's simply not possible to get through — these are written on chalkboards that are located throughout the subway tunnels, so people can plan their alternate routes.

Of course, too, there are those who are using the subway tunnels as a place to take a respite from the weather — those who have no where else to go. The transit authority, for once, is not trying to shoo away the homeless who have dragged their scant belongings onto the platforms, huddling with blankets while people come and go off the trains.

Veronica Sawyer is here not to board a train but instead to look for a suspect (or two) that have been sighted in homeless shelters or vagrant camps. She walks along the platform, peering into the faces of those who have fallen through society's cracks. She clearly doesn't belong amongst them — her down-filled snow parka that hits her lower shins, her boots, her scarf — all cost enough to feed the entire platform lunch.

There's another that clearly isn't here for the shelter, as Lynette Rowan steps down the stairs, obviously not prepared for this weather. She has boots on! But they're high heeled and not really made for the ice and snow. She has on a pair of jeans over them and a thick leather 'bomber' jacket. And gloves. and a scarf. But she still looks very cold. "Christ, what the hell is up with this weather?" She huffs to no one in particular while she brushes snow off her boots.

The futility of this little exercise is dawning on Veronica as she looks after face after face and sees none that are either like her suspects' or none that look like they probably have a clue about anything she needs to know. One is babbling about coconuts, of all things. Heaving a sigh, Veronica heads for the way out — her dark eyes alight upon a familiarish face. She tilts her head — it's been almost ten years since she saw Lynette Rowan last, and at Veronica's father's funeral, but she recognizes the girl she looked up to growing up — the daughter of one of her dad's best friends.

"Lyn? Lynette? Is that you?" Veronica asks.

Lynette looks that way as she hears her name, and it takes a second, but recognition sets in soon enough. "Little Ronnie, look at you!" She smiles as she comes over to take the other woman's hands, "For goodness sakes, what in the world are you doing out here?"

For once, they're the same size — Veronica had not quite reached her full height of 5'5" when she was 17, but now they're the same height. Her gloved hands squeeze her childhood friend's and she gives a rare, sincere smile, dimples blossoming in both cheeks, triangulating with the one in her chin — a smile very few get to see these days, here in New York. "Freezing my ass off, same as you," she responds. "I came out last year for work — what about you? God, it's a small world after all, right?" The fact that song comes from a ride in an amusement park somewhere between their childhood homes not lost on either of them, surely.

Chuckling for that answer, Lynette nods, "God, that's too right. They warned me it was going to be cold, but this is ridiculous." She returns that squeeze, that chuckle transitioning to an out and out laugh at the reference. "I came for work, too, actually. Setting up some apartments. Nothing glamorous, but it pays the bills."

Veronica smirks. "I don't do anything glamorous either, that's for sure. I'm interviewing homeless people…" To explain, she pulls out her (fake) Department of Homeland Security badge to show to the other woman. The Rowans knew that Veronica had veered off the path her father's footsteps had laid out for her, and into one of law enforcement after Keith Sawyer died, but just what she ended up doing was never in any Christmas cards her mother had sent in the past years. "How long you been here? This isn't normal, but you probably know that. I'm really hoping they find the person responsible soon, or I'm heading back to California soon," Vee chuckles.

"Interviewing homeless people?" Lynn looks at the badge and lets out a little whistle, apparently not noticing it's a fake. Of course, Vee isn't the only one who didn't follow along the expected path. In fact, most seem to think she's wallowing in anonymity, alas. "On, I only just arrived. Did you know that you have to go down to the power company and show them ID in person to get things set up now? I said 'in this weather?' and the guy said 'you better believe it, sister'. New Yorkers are living up to their reputation for being grumpy."

Veronica laughs and gives a shrug of her shoulder. "To be honest, I think most New Yorkers are pretty decent people. They get a bum rap, sometimes. The city's crazy though — if you don't have to be here and can do your work elsewhere, I'd probably recommend it, Lynette. It's a dangerous place. If the terrorists don't kill you, the radiation will, you know?" It's a joke. Sort of. "How's your dad? Still trying to re-enact Green Acres or something out in the country?" Her smile is a fond one.

"Well… I think this is the place I need to be for now. We'll see if it gets too crazy for me, but I'm pretty sure I can handle it." Lynn smiles when her dad's brought up and she nods, "He is. I think he loves it out there. Lots of space, no one to bother him. He still flies out to LA sometimes, but he always says he's happier on the ranch. He found out he likes a little manual labor. How about your mom? Haven't heard from her since the last big newsletter."

"Mom is mom," Veronica says, with a little less smile, dimples fading. "She never really got over my dad, and she just lives in lala-land. Valium, wine, and days at the spa. We don't really talk much these days." The words are honest enough, though it's nothing she's told anyone about her mother recently — not that anyone in her life now asks. Brian knows better. No one else cares. "Say hi to your dad for me next time you talked to him. What apartments are you setting up?"

"Shame," Lynette says, and seems to genuinely regret the change in the woman. "I will pass it along to him. He is, apparently, having fine weather. Jerk." It's a warm insult, though. "Oh, it's uh, Gun Hill over in the Bronx. Told you it was nothing glamorous," she says with a crooked smile.

"So, you're, what, an apartment manager, then?" Veronica says, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a card and a pen, scribbling another number along with the ones already pre-printed on the card. The card has no precinct or office address, simply states her name, the DHS logo, and office and cell numbers. She hands this to the blonde with a smile.

"Yeah, which means I get the biggest apartment for myself," Lynette says with a chuckle. She takes the card, glancing over it for a moment, curiously, before she digs around her pockets for a piece of paper and a pen, "Right now, all I have is the cell, but I'll let you know when I have another set up. I might end up dying of frostbite first, but." Also a joke. Mostly. Once she has her number written out, she passes it over in return.

"A Bronx penthouse, right?" Veronica says with a chuckle. "I'm over on the Upper West Side myself. Dorchester, if you're ever in the neighborhood. Not that I am ever in the neighborhood. I spend more time working than at home, but it's all right." She glances at the cell number and slips it into the pocket of her snow parka. "Speaking of work… I should get back to it, but we should catch up sometime — you know, now that I won't be pestering you like a tagalong brat." She smirks, then adds, "It's really good to see you after all these years!"

"Oh yeah," Lynette says to those first words, "Although technically, I have the whole building to myself at the moment, so it's a little like a /huge/ house with far too many bathrooms. Ah, but yeah, don't let me keep you from work. And drop by anytime. It's… nice to have a friend in the city." She laughs a bit, shaking her head, "Oh, come on, you were never that bad. It's good to see you, too. Good luck with your homeless guys."

Veronica leans in to give her childhood friend a quick hug. "It is good to have a friend in the city. I can use all I can get, you know. We're not very popular, us DHS types." She shrugs. She's trying to save the Evolved from brain-stealing mad men, but it's a thankless job. "Right. I better get before the sun goes down and the temperature drops even more. If that's even possible. There has to be a limit, right?" The brunette makes a face, and waves, heading for the exit.

"It's a rough job, I'm sure. But, hey, someone's got to do it, right?" Lynn returns the hug, and turns to wave after her. "See you around," she says in farewell before she falls a few steps back, folding her arms as she watches the other woman leave.

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