Participants:
| Scene Title | Origami And Other Artwork… |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | … are on Cat's mind when visited by someone. |
| Date | October 5, 2010 |
The Verb, Penthouse
Arriving by any of four elevators, visitors will find they open into three foot corridors facing wide double doors made from sturdy southern pine which swing outward and have the strongest locks available. The stairs lead to single doors, also outward opening, at the end of three foot corridors. Entry requires both a key and a keycard; other security measures are a video camera and voice communication terminal at all doors. The 4th Street side has floor to ceiling windows interrupted only by the access points. Cream colored curtains are normally kept closed.
This level has enough space for sixteen apartments. There is an office space with reception area, conference room, and executive office; a room for archery practice and other forms of physical exercise; a very well appointed kitchen and dining area; a music zone with an array of instruments, electronics, and amplifiers; an entertainment area with an HD set covering an entire stretch of wall from floor to ceiling; a locked room where security footage for the building is recorded and can be monitored; a laundry room; a staircase for roof access; central air and heating; the main bedroom and a few smaller guest rooms; plush deep wine carpet everywhere except the kitchen, laundry room and bathrooms; and track lighting everywhere overhead. The light levels can be lowered or raised in the entire place, or selectively by segments. The overall decor suggests the occupant is a woman.
She's been up for hours, completed the morning routine of a workout, reading several publications over breakfast and coffee, and is just now stepping out of the shower. Wrapped in a towel, Cat walks in bare feet to the bedside table, drawn by the sight of an object which wasn't there when she woke. The item is taken up in fingers and studied for a moment. "About time," she murmurs dispassionately to the wall, before placing the thing back where it was left. Getting dressed is given priority over it for now.
Clothing is selected; as she doesn't have lawyer business today unless something pops up (please don't pop up) her choices are a Yale hoodie, jeans, and athletic shoes. It's a quick enough process, but is interrupted just as she's fastening a bra behind her back by a call from the reception desk. A visitor is on the way up, so instructions are given to open the access panel so this guest can reach the sixth floor, then she resumes dressing.
Less than a minute later, she's got that item from the bedside table in hand again and leaving the bedroom, heading out toward the appropriate entry door, with fingers opening the folded paper up to check out the contents. On reading it, she stops in her tracks, the other hand reaching to open one of those double doors and admit the person who should be arriving within moments, if she isn't already there.
She will need your help. She has needed your help.
That's all the unfolded origami tells her, aside from the grainy photo which defines who this particular she is.
Folding the paper neatly in quarters, the door is opened and eyes seek out the person to be admitted.
Barbara's been putting it off for a few days now, making a trip to see Catherine Chesterfield, for no real reason she could discern other than her usual form of worry. Time spent poring over the set of drawings she had completed under the supervision of Scott Harkness days before, seeing if there was any little detail as to location or identity that she had somehow managed to miss in the moments after she'd drawn them. The vision itself was still as fresh in her mind as it could be, but she couldn't shake the feeling she was missing something.
Of course, that was before the matter of the other picture she'd seen amidst it.
Loud footfalls herald her awaited arrival, having finally decided to stop putting off a meeting that probably should have happened three days ago, her bag with her sketches and materials slung over her arm comfortably as she slowly approaches Cat's door. A knock is given, despite the open door, out of courteously. "Catherine?" Barbara calls out, out of habit more than anything else, before eyes settle on the woman she's here to meet. "Ah! Sorry to come by so suddenly. I was hoping we could talk about something."
A quiet chuckle is emitted as she sees Barbara arriving by the stairs, followed by a murmur under her breath not meant for the triplet to hear. "Such timing, Hiro, really." And without letting on about what she just received in any way, gears are shifted. "Good to see you. I guess you prefer stairs to elevators?" Cat flashes a slight smile, moving aside to let her into the penthouse and planning to secure the door afterward. "What's on your mind?"
In Cat's world, very little is coincidental. Time will tell if this meeting follows that rule.
Barbara gives a little bit of a laugh and a shrug. "I get exercise where I can. I've been a bit lazy since I came to New York." A hat is drawn off her head, hand run back through her hair. "Some things I wanted to share with you. And a request from Scott." Barbara turns back to face Cat, fingers tapping on the side of her bag. "He had me come by The Hanger the other day. I'm sure you got his message, I had hoping you'd be able to be there, but he was a little insistent."
"That's interesting," Cat replies as she closes the door and turns toward the interior, headed toward the kitchen with expectation of being followed. "Would you like coffee?" she offers along the way. Attention is given to Barbara while on the move, demonstrated by periodically turning to walk backwards and glances over one shoulder.
"It's unfortunate I wasn't able to make that meeting, and bring a telepath along. I've been more busy than usual lately, finding a need to demonstrate my legal prowess for troubled persons." That's a statement in itself, Cat is known for being very selective about the people she'll don the lawyer suit for.
"Coffees good," Barbara replies succinctly, hands slipping into jean pockets as she follows after Cat. When Cat looks back, Barbara offers a smile. "I didn't realise you were a lawyer, I must admit." Or she forgot, one of the two. "Scott had said something about being busy with honest work. Hopefully, whoever you're helping out isn't too bad off.
Barbara gives a bit of a nod, and then a more nervous shrug. "Well, I'm sure there'll be more. He only had me go over one of the paintings. That's what I wanted to share with you, to be exact. My drawings from when I looked over it. I figured you might be able to see if I missed something, because I feel like I did. And if not…" There's a chuckle. "If not, you'll keep it in mind easier than I will."
Steps carry her past the table in that kitchen and on to the coffeemaker where more than half a pot remains. "Make yourself comfortable, Barbara," she invites. A cup is obtained and filled, on the return trip Cat brings it along. "I'm a lot of things," the panmnesiac remarks with a quiet laugh, "rocker chick, political scientist, attorney, businesswoman, linguist…" She lets it trail off. "The whole list would cure you of insomnia, I'm sure, so I'll spare you the recitation until and unless you need that kind of help."
As Cat lapses to silence, she sets out the goods for doctoring coffee to taste. No need is felt to prompt, she's certain the redhead triplet will be forthcoming on her own.
With direction given, Barbara takes her seat rather quickly, her bag placed carefully up on the table as she roots around, not even noticing at first when the coffee is placed down. It's only when Cat speaks again that Barbara looks up, giving only a bit of a nod as an initial response. Once she has her sketchbook out and place on the table, she lets out a bit of a laugh.
"Well, I imagine you're never at a loss for something to do, at least," she muses, flipping open the book and drawing out four loose pieces of paper, each one depicting something different - though at least three seem to be similar, the fourth standing out noticeably. "He… had me look at the painting of that… thing, with the barbed wire and the registration signs." She almost adds I'm sure you remember it, but thinks better of it. "I saw this man, presumably painting it, and then seeming rather hysterical afterwards. And… another painting in it," she notes, motioning to the fourth, different drawing.
"It would be good to find this man," Cat muses, "if he's in modern times." Whether or not any of Barbara's sketches ring bells for her, she isn't saying. For all appearances, they're looked at as if to determine all details and be sure she's seen them, thus committing the works to memory. "The imagery he's painting isn't so surprising for me, we've had suspicions these areas restricted to people with the SLC are really meant to become ghettos, concentration camps, which we place ourselves in with no struggle. That they turn up attached to precog art doesn't inspire comfort."
"I.. think the painting may have been metaphorical myself. It's the one with the… creature. The blood red creature. I just… even knowing what I know, I can't imagine how something like that could possibly be real." There's a worried look on Barbara's face as she leans back, hands folded in her lap. "But if there are worries such as that about, perhaps there is something more substantial to it than I wish to think about." Her hand moves up, pointing to the fourth picture, the painting reproduction. "Scott and I weren't sure exactly what to make of this. I saw this in the vision. He believes we should find it as soon as possible."
"Metaphors do happen in these matters," Cat agrees, "they're so often maddening. Still have no idea what the creature from the painting which produced these images for you represents. You said Scott has a request?" she asks.
The unspoken thing is her wonder if any of these paintings are somehow connected with Barbara appearing in Hiro's crane as someone needing assistance somewhen.
Barbara has partially disconnected.
"Scott… wants to circulate the paintings," Barbara says as she looks off to the side, grimacing. "He seems t' think that at least getting' pictures of them around might get some answers from folks. Maybe about artists, maybe thoughts on what they mean. I don't think it's a terrible idea, myself." Barbara gives a bit of a shrug, leaning forward a bit in her seat. "I was mostly hoping if I could… borrow one. My… visions are much clearer when one just comes to me, and for that to happen I'd need to have a painting actually around. No promises anything would come of it, but it's a chance for some… hopefully clearer information."
"Circulating the art in some quarters could help," Cat agrees, "but it's also not entirely my call. Mr. Bennet recommended they be kept very safe, Scott is the best keeper I know of, so he has them. In any case, we don't want the Institute getting digits on any of it. The man in the biohazard symbol painting with Peter Petrelli is Howard Lemay. He was a Company agent who infiltrated the CDC and now works with the Institute." She pauses briefly.
"I'll be in contact with Bennet very soon."
"Scott made it sound like it was," Barbara replies with a half grin. "It doesn't have to be all of them at the same time, anyway. But I think it could help. He seemed to think reaching out to people with art ties in the Ferry would be wise too." The mention of the institute causes a bit of a droop in her expression, the postcog idly picking up one of her drawings and looking at it. "The institute… Yeah. I guess that is something to worry about. It… didn't really occur to me. Hmm…"
"We definitely wouldn't want them to know there's art showing one of their operatives encountering Peter in a place that has biohazard material," Cat comments. "Or anyone else, for that matter, it could tip them off the facility might get exposed."
Some quiet seconds are spent contemplating things.
"Tell Scott it's good for you to take paintings one by one, do your mojo, and return them. But I'd still like to have a telepath present when you do, so the imagery can be funneled directly." She can always relay a different message if Bennet objects.
Barbara hmms, shaking her head. "I might need t' move near one, then. I can do… the on command ones without too much problem, they're jsut tiring. But the clearest ones, the most informative ones… there's no way to predict when they happen. They just come to me. If you wish to have visions recorded like that, it may be best for me to stay close to someone capable as long as I have one of the paintings." Another small shrug is given. "Not that I mind. I have little to do lately as it is, so however I can help is welcome."
"No need for moving around, Barbara. I'm simply suggesting to have things arranged if you're doing a direct attempt. There'd be no way to effectively ensure people are around when random visions come over you," Cat opines, "let alone me. Sometimes being an information junkie gets the better of me, I'm commonly engaged in creating new memories and perceiving as much as possible."
Besides all that, she may soon be traveling to the past and assisting in satellite destruction.
Barbara gives a bit of a laugh and a nod. "I'll keep that in mind, then. Letting me keep one at a time can ensure that you and someone else can be around, at least." She finally picks up her coffee, having neglected it while she went over her pictures and Scott wishes - is less warm now, but just enough to have a kick while she takes a long gulp. "Is there any one you would rather I hang on to first? Besides the one of the creature Scott and I were so puzzled by, I'm not sure which is the next most… imposing of the set."
"The painting with the brain under glass is most curious," Cat remarks, "next in line would be those which show Mr. Bennet being shot in the eye, and Mohinder Suresh firing a gun." She isn't certain what if anything Barbara might see to shed light on those, but there doesn't appear to be any loss in trying.
Another long sip of increasingly lukewarm coffee, and Barbara gives a short nod, given by a grimace. She still hasn't actually seen Noah Bennet face to face since she returned to New York outside of his surprise appearance at the wake a month ago, and analysing the painting of him having been shot bring up some mixed. "I had forgotten about the… brain painting. I'll get in contact with Scott as soon as I can, then. Let him know what the deal is. I have a frame with room I can likely slip into too, for safe keeping," she muses, before nodding and beginning to collect her sketch pad. "You can hold on to the drawings, if you wish. Show them around. I already made photocopies,"
Nodding, Cat rises to her feet so she can see Barbara out and secure the door behind her. "Thanks for coming," she offers. "Hopefully insights can be gained, the paintings so far have me at a loss." As does whatever past peril Barbara's soon to face.
She has some calls to make, aimed at finding out if and where Hiro has a base of operations in the city.