Participants:
| Scene Title | One've Us Has to Have Our Head on Straight |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Colette spends the night at Nicole's side at her request. Conflicted, Nicole intends to admit to one thing, but ends up admitting something else all together. Something infinitely more embarrassing, if we're honest. |
| Date | September 2, 2010 |
Solstice Condominiums - Nicole's Apartment
A breeze drifts through the open windows of Nicole Nichols' condominium, causing the drapes to billow and shift. The woman of the house scowls at them from her sprawled position on the couch. After truding up her front steps and through the front door, she only managed to kick away her shoes, leaving them several feet apart from each other on the floor, toppled onto their sides.
Nicole herself lays a crumpled mess upon her sofa. Her skirts lay askew, the bow tied at her waist sags. She hasn't even the energy to dress herself for bed. Despite the stupor the alcohol she's consumed has lulled her into, she cannot sleep.
Open windows are invitation for all sorts of unwanted visitors; Birds, bats and bugs among them. Tonight, it's the sound of floorboards creaking when the curtains disturb, the noise of shoe rubber squeaking on hardwood floor paneling, then in that space by the window color smokily fades into swirling modes, like watercolor washed off of canvas. Black for leather, red for a threadbare t-shirt, and hair, tan for skin. with a touchy of milky white and green for eyes. Painted into reality, Colette Nichols looks like a lot has gone on in her life since the last time she's actually seen her sister face to face.
Text messages and phone calls are regular, but it's been a few months since they've seen each other face to face. Colette looks noticeably older.
Her hair has grown out, shaggier now, parted on one side partly hiding her blind eye. Some trails of hair track down to shoulder length from the sides of her head, choppily cut. The t-shirt she wears, with its faded Che Guevara stencil and Never Too Late slogan at the bottom looks like it's falling apart, splitting on seams and frayed at the collar and hem, revealing a little more skin than it used to.
Leather pants finish out the attire, black and scuffed, well worn, folded down over equally black and equally leather boots. She's tanned too, Colette, which is a rarity for a girl who used to spend so much time indoors she looked as white as a sheet.
"Hey…" sounds just the same though, all toughening up aside, Colette Nichols is still the little sister Nicole has always had.
Nicole should be worried when the sounds of footsteps are heard on her floor from the window. She should bolt upright and demand to know who's there. As much as she can tell herself that she already knew in her heart, it's a foolish and unsafe notion. And still, Nicole can't quite bring herself to sit up.
Her smile is tired as she feels, only managing to shift her position a little so that when she turns her head, Nicole can see her beloved sister. "Look at us," she murmurs with amusement peppering her tone. "Me looking all girly, and you all… rough and tumble." In truth, this worries her. Each time she sees her sister and there's a new, appreciable change to her demeanour, it worries Nicole.
"I'm glad you came. I… wasn't sure you would," she admits, finally bracing a hand against the couch to try and pull herself up to sit against the arm. Colette hasn't seen her sister look this tired since… Since she manifested her own ability. She's never let herself get this tired, to the detriment of her own health sometimes. "I like your shirt."
There's a snorted laugh from Colette at that, one hand lifting to rake back through her bangs, "You know I've always got time for you, even if I gotta ride halfway 'cross the city after curfew t'do it." There's a crooked smile as she makes her way over to the sofa, boots clunking soundly on the floor with each step.
One black brow raises as Colette approaches the sofa, smiling softly as she comes to perch on the edge of the cushions, scooting to the side and giving her sister a nudge of her hip to ease her over so she has more room to sit down. Though looking down at herself, Colette plucks at the red t-shirt with a wistful expression. "Yeah," she offers, plucking at loose threads, "I got it when I was livin' at the shelter. Wore it on the day I met Tamara for the first time," mis-matched eyes alight to Nicole's blue, "can't bring myself t'throw it away." She always was a packrat.
"Remember that old jacket I used to wear in high school?" Of course she does. "I still have that. I actually wore it while I was holed up at the Corinthian." Nicole pulls herself up long enough to then tip herself over so she can rest her head in her sister's lap.
"I used my ability tonight," she murmurs softly. The implications of what Nicole's trying to say hang in the air.
She's smiling, almost a laugh until Nicole drops that unexpected twist. Colette's expression hardens a little, her brows crease and she leans back to lounge against the arm of the sofa at her sister's side, lifting an arm up to drape over Nicole's waist, her bangs falling away from her blind eye as one brow lifts. "What'd you… like, get caught in the rain or somethin'?" She knows that isn't the case, but Colette is hoping for something better than the truth, something easier to swallow. There's disappointment waiting in that.
"Did you go out?" That's an easier question. Colette's hand on Nicole's waist plucks at the fabric of the dress, "I mean… you look nice, you had to've gone out, I mean. You— don't normally dress like this 'round the house n'stuff."
"Yeah," is all Nicole can manage at first. With her back to Colette as it is, the younger Nichols might almost wonder if the elder fell asleep on her, tired as she seems. But eventually, Nicole breaks the silence again. "There was this event in Central Park, at the old Tavern on the Green." She falls quiet again for the space it takes her to inhale deeply and gather her thoughts.
"It's called d'Sarthe's now. Run by the man it's named for." Nicole scoots just the barest bit back against Colette's body, snuggling into her. "If you love me, and don't want me to die prematurely of a heart attack, you will not get mixed up with him. He's bad news, Sissy. His… He's… Just don't." Not that such warnings have ever stopped Colette before, but Nicole has to have hope.
"He's the competition," she explains, as if that much hadn't already been obvious. "You know me, I have to scope out the competition." Know your enemy, perhaps? Nicole will swear up and down that she showed up there out of some sort of duty to the Linderman Group, but in truth she simply had to see if the décor at d'Sarthe's could match - or heaven forbid, top - what she did for Chambéry.
"Never even heard've the guy until you mentioned him," Colette explains, scooting down into the cushions a little more as she brings her legs up onto the sofa, careful not to bring her clunky boots on the cushions. Her arm wraps around Nicole's waist, palm flattening out on her stomach and rests her nose in the back of her sister's hair, giving her a tight squeeze. "'Sides, I like Mister Daniel an' everyone else. Logan even asked me for some help hiding a girl he was picking up from Russia with my people," her people, "an' I totally negotiated with'm all awesome an' stuff."
After a few moments, pressing her nose into the back of Nicole's hair, Colette adds, "He's got this really cute green-eyed wolf-dog thing now, Jupiter was all stupid about her."
"Ugh. Don't even— Logan— I just—" It isn't like Nicole to be rendered speechless. Being able to keep her poise is something that's gotten her to the position she occupies today. Though there is a certain luxury in being able to let one's guard down among family. "You just don't get too friendly with Mister Logan," Nicole cautions. "Let him owe you a favour, or whatever, but don't let it go beyond that." She lays her hand over Colette's and squeezes gently. "I mean it."
She's dodging the full explanation now, even if she doesn't mean to. While Nicole begged her sister to come over so she could unload or decompress, she can't stop trying to instill upon her who she should and shouldn't be getting mixed up with. "He showed up with some stupid redhead tonight. I don't even know what fucking language she spoke. Fucking moon language or some bullshit like that. He showed up with— He had some kind of— She looked like a whore.
"Do they have whores on the fucking moon?"
"Moon whores," Colette echoes with a giggle, spreading her fingers to guide Nicole's between them, then curling her fingers tight to squeeze Nicole's hand in hers. "Logan's just lonely, an' if he pays a girl to pay attention to him she totally will. There was a guy in school back— when— I went to school," is added a little hitchingly, "um, that— you know, he'd act like a jerk around girls so they'd pay attention to him. Even negative attention's somethin' right?" Eyes closed and contentedly poised behind Nicole, Colette relaxes against her sister.
"Logan just needs someone who actually gives a crap about him, an' isn't just with him for a reason or because they need somethin'. He's a sweet guy, under all his blimey and crikey fish and chips wot's that stuff, y'know?" She'd been trying not to laugh at that, but Colette breaks down a few seconds later, giggling into the back of Nicole's hair.
It'd be so much funnier maybe if Nicole weren't so damned tired. Or if she didn't feel so put out by the fact that Logan would apparently rather hire a date than ask her. Didn't she promise herself she wouldn't let John Logan get the better of her? Maybe she'll make good on that tomorrow, once she's had time to rest and to think things through. Yes. Tomorrow sounds like a fine day to start not caring. All in all, she does chuckle quietly at her sister lightening the mood.
"I like him," Nicole admits in a soft voice. "It's so stupid." And it feels good to get it off her chest, too. "I just… My heart fell into my stomach when I saw him with that… girl tonight. Isn't that the dumbest fucking thing that you've ever heard?" She makes a face at herself, and even though Colette can't actually see it, she still knows that Nicole's making it. Some quirks you just recognise. "Your sister, hung up on a boy."
"Yeah whod've figured, huh? You should meet my friend Sable, I think she'd like you." Colette's being a bit impish, admittedly, "Though I think you'd probably intimidate the hell out've her too, so that'd be really fun t'see." Pressing her nose to the back of Nicole's neck, Colette exhales a warm breath and squeezes her arm around Nicole's waist again.
"You need to come by my apartment," Colette pleads with another squeeze, "I've been there for months an' you still haven't stopped by. I— I want you t'meet Tasha and my friends, an' see where I live. We painted the apartment all by ourselves, it was really great. An'— an' I could cook you dinner," another squeeze, "an'— an' I really miss you."
Then, leaning up onto her elbow, Colette looks down and over her sister's shoulder. "Maybe in return, I could talk to Logan for you? Y'know… play wingman?" There's an arch of Colette's brows and a smile. "S'not silly t'like him, he's sweet. He just needs a good straightening out." Then, with a giggle Colette adds, "I guess you do too but, y'know…"
"I don't think I would ever live it down if you told Logan that I actually like him." Nicole winces at the idea. Then her voice lowers, something like husky amusement in her tone. "Besides, I've straightened him out once already."
Nicole's fingers lace just a little tighter with Colette's. "I'll come see the new place soon. I've just…" Been busy? "You know how I get." She makes another disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "He isn't even my type!" She beats the cushion beneath her with her free hand, further venting her frustration with herself. "Sable, huh? Has it really come to this? Have I reached that age where you feel you must take it upon yourself to ensure I don't end up a lonely spinster? What is my life?" The melodrama is played up extensively.
"One've us has to have our head on straight, y'know?" There's a smile from Colette offered to the back of Nicole's head, and the teen exhales another sigh, leaning her weight against Nicole's back. "Maybe… you can come with me when I go back to the apartment t'morrow… or— somethin'. We'll see, like, y'know how busy your schedule is." Then, after a few moments of considerable thinking, Colette hesitates on bringing up a more serious topic, it's something that can wait, something that she can talk about later.
"Y'know I was in bed when you called and asked me t'come over," Colette whispers, eyes closed, "there's not many people I'd get up outta' bed for and drive across the city t'see…" her hand squeezes Nicole's. "I love you, an' I do miss you. But m'really tired… an' I can make fun've you for having a crush on mister Logan tomorrow."
Nicole responds with a wide yawn. "All right," she relents in a sleepy murmur. "Sorry, I… I don't know why I thought you would still be up." With the promise of bed ahead of her, Nicole finds the strength to slowly pull herself to her feet and offer her hands out to her sister to help her up as well. "I'm really… Really glad that you came. I don't think I'd have managed to sleep otherwise." Or certainly not well at any rate.
"Help me get out of this dress, and then close up the windows, would you? Christ," Nicole scoffs teasingly, "any weirdo off the street could sneak in here."
Grinning, Colette exhales another more (theatrically) exasperated sigh, then sits up the rest of the way and runs a hand through her hair. "Yeah," she admits with a fond smile and a roll of her eyes, looking down at Nicole with a crooked smile as she leans in, presses a kiss to the brunette's cheek, then slowly leans away.
"One weirdo's more'n enough, isn't it?"