colette_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Positive
Synopsis Colette makes an unannounced visit to Magnes' apartment to bring something by for Sable, which has revelatory significance. In turn, Sable's given a lot to think about regarding her life, and Colette makes a deicision regarding hers.
Date April 27, 2010

Dorchester Towers

Man do Sable's arms ever /ache/. She's only just returned from literally hammering at a brick wall, and was consequently rewarded for her efforts with the grim tableaux of some bricked-in sap with a case of terminal weight loss. She hasn't even changed out of her cruddiest pair of cargo pants and jeans, and her dark hair is speckled with bits of mortar and the fine red of powdered brick. The skin around her eyes and mouth, where a mask and protective goggles shielded here, forms a clearly delineated space of cleanness next to the grime kicked up by the blows of sledgehammers. In short, she isn't looking her best, and she never developed the middle class compulsion to /immediately/ shower after dirty work. Right now, she's just waiting for the aspirin to kick in, to relieve the complaint of her muscles. As if slogging through feet upon feet of snow wasn't enough of a work out.

Sable has laid claim to the living room, as Magnes is still sleeping off last night's drinking in his room. When he comes to, he'll likely need the aspirin Sable's retrieved from the bathroom cabinet, so she leaves it out on the coffee table. How's that for consideration? What a gal.

The knock at the door isn't considerate of anyone with a headache, nor is the chipper voice warbling from the other side. Thankfully for Sable her pains haven't quite worked up that far yet. "Saaaaaable~" comes the sing-song tone used by the familiar young woman who made absolutely no indication of stopping by this morning, "Maaaaagnes~," she adds afterward, "Lemmie iiiin~" Whatever's been going on with Colette today, it's put her in a more bubbly mood than usual.

Another lightly hammering knock peppers the door, and there's a shuffling of booted footsteps just outside, followed by Colette's voice one more time. "Don't tell me I walked all the wya here for noooothing~," she adds, though still sing-song it's a little more flustered, because there is that chance that nobody's home.

Sable's got headphones on, because life without music ain't life in any real sense of the word, and because she does have some regard for Magnes' potential headache. 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond' has just concluded its fifth part, and it is basically just luck that the pause between tracks gives Sable the earspace to hear Colette's request for entry, if only for a second.

Sable yanks off her earphones, letting 'Welcome to the Machine' begin without a proper listener as she sits up from her recline on the couch and looks around. Did she-? Was that-? And then Colette's voice rings out again. Sable tosses her earphones aside and vaults over the back of the couch, a motion that does /not/ end well, her arm deciding to become inoperable at a crucial moment, a protest against its further misuse. She lands on the ground with a sound thump and gives a grunt of pain. "Comin'! -er… comin'…" she calls at first, then cuts down to a lower volume, remembering the need for a certain quiet, the very need that nearly made her miss the visitor. She scrambles to her feet, strides to the door, and pulls it open, poking her powdered head through the gap.

Despite the string of mishaps and missteps, Sable grins as she sees who it is. "Well hello there," is offered, by way of greeting. She pulls the door open properly.

"Woah," Colette offers with a raise of her brows at the door, snow dusting her black peacoat and flecking her hair, "Magnes remodeling or something?" The smile she offers is admittedly a bit sheepish, it's been some time since she and Sable had last seen one another, and Colette slinking off without much of a word come morning is her own personal elephant in the room.

Ducking her head as she steps in, Colette's carefully maneuvering her olive-drab courier bag off of one shoulder, gripped by the tattered strap as she tracks fresh snow and ice in on her boots. Green eyes flick around the apartment, brows furrowed, and then when she turns around to face Sable again there's a befuddled look of confusion on her face.

"Uh, Mags— is remodeling… right?" There's a quick look up and down Sable as Colette shifts her weight from one foot to the other, looking for a place to set fdown her bag that won't require her tracking snow across the apartment or taking off her boots.

Sable doesn't seem particularly perturbed. Maybe she's okay with elephants, at least if they aren't her own. A friend to the pachyderms of others. At most she exhibits a mild form of unconscious grooming, lifting a hand to run through her hair, her fingers emerging with some dust between them, which she brushes off with a few quick slaps of hand against hand.

"Naw, though come to think of it it'd be pretty cool to punch a skylight in my room. 'cept that, until it got installed, I'd be turning my digs into a fuckin' snow globe," Sable says, cricking her neck. "Naw," she repeats, "I got up bright 'n' early, went to help some friends of Magnes' with this wall they were havin' trouble with. Apparently the wall didn't get the hint, that it wasn't wanted no more. So we had to make some, y'know," she grins, "Forceful arguments."

She extends a hand, gesturing with her fingers, "Lemme take that," she says, meaning the bag, "Pass it over gentle-like, though. My arms are fuckin' killing me."

Grinning a bit crookedly, Colette wrinkles her nose as she alights her eyes to the ceiling. "I don't think the upstairs neighbors'd like a hole in their floor either," she admits a bit teasingly about the skylight. Passing off the courier bag, Colette leans back against the wall, offering an askance look to Sable as she kicks a bit more snow off of her boots before shifting over a few steps and scuffing their treads them against the rug in front of the door.

"Open the bag up, there's a cardboard boxy thing right in the front, blue and white." Colette instructs with a flippant wave of one gloved hand, "says Biomere Medical on the side…" Looking down at her boots and satisfied that she's at least not going to make any more of a mess than Sable already did, Colette takes a few steps further into the apartment.

"It's a test kit," Colette offers ina quiet tone of voice, lips creeping up into a faint smile.

"Pssh," Sable says, shouldering the bag and fiddling with the fastenings, "Evictin' the killjoys up there and knockin' over the upper stories'd be the first step in the project. Eggs broken 'n' omelets made, y'know?"

She tugs the box out of its confines, and lifts it up with both hands, turning it over and around until the name is visible. 'Biomere Medical', just as Colette said. "Well wouldja look at that. I tell you, hon, I think we're both gonna be disappointed. 'course… maybe not. Hard to say, seein' as I'm not quite sure what it is I'm hopin' for," she casts a glance at Colette, "How about you? Would you like me to join you in the, like, superhuman crowd?" She slips the box under her arm. "Hey, take off all that crap, stay awhile. Just… we gotta keep it down a bit, try not to shake up Magnes. He hit the bottle a bit hard last night, and the bottle hit right back."

There's a nod of Colette's head as she reaches up to sweep those bangs behind one ear, treading around the living room and towards Magnes' kitchen. "You ever see like, an insulin test thingie? That's kind've what the new test kits look like. Just a finger-prick away from… I dunno, change?"

Tromping around the island and into the kitchen, Colette seems to be favoring her left arm over her right, keeping the latter as still as she can, hand tucked into a pocket of the jacket she's not quite ready to take off yet. "I think you're cool, ability or not. Doesn't matter, one way're the other… I owe you a lot," though she doesn't clarify, "doesn't matter if you've got a power. You're still a friend."

"You owe me roughly crap," Sable avers, following Colette into the kitchen and tossing the bag onto the spot of counter next to the fridge, "But please, don't lemme correct you. I'm all for craziness, 's long as it's crazy in my favor." She sets the box by the sink, pushing aside a couple unwashed glasses, marked by the vague residue of some beverage or other, unrecognizable post-evaporation. She takes a moment to turn on the faucet, taking a couple handfuls of water and splashing her face, rubbing with both hands before releasing, letting her head hang over the drain, water running down her nose and dripping from the tips of her bangs. When she lifts her head, she looks significantly less grimy, though not /quite/ kempt. "Now that I've got my face on…" she says, with a grin.

Hands press heels against the edge of the counter and press down as Sable hikes herself up into a sit. The discomfort is much less now than that experienced during her ill-fated and worse planned couch vault, evidence of the aspirin's efficacy. Her legs swing a little, backs of her socked feet bumping lightly against the cupboard beneath. "At least shed the coat. You'll be cookin' shortly, the heat cranked up the way it is," she suggests. She reaches over and opens the box, squinting at the contents. A wrinkled nose signals uncertainty. "Wanna walk me through this? This shit innit exactly my forte…"

Looking down to her jacket, Colette offers a nervous smile, then tugs off her striped gloves, laying them down on the countertop before letting cold fingers pluck at the buttons of her coat. "I do owe you…" she insists gently while working down the large round buttons, "for… giving me some perspective." If that's what the kids are calling it now a days. "I've been hung up on the same girl for… a long time, and up until we— " Colette's lips creep up into a smile, head dipping down and eyes shifting over to where her gloves are, "it— that night sort've helped me figure out some things. I— I appreciate it, it meant a lot to me and… and I owe you."

Coat unbuttoned, the brick red of her turtleneck sweater is the only touch of color gracing the teen at the moment. Shedding the coat, it's laid across the island atop her gloves. Colette winces once the jacket's off, rubbing carefully at her right shoulder as she turns to rest her hip against the counter, eyes up and over to Sable, then to the box she's holding.

"It's pretty simple, just take the plastic wand thingie out of the box and pull off the plastic cap one on end, then press your finger on the black pad." Colette makes little air-pantomimes that aren't very helpful. Then all you do is press the button on the side, there's a quick stabbity thing and then you just wait…"

Sable's affect shifts as Colette explains herself; where before she was behaving personably, casually, and with her habitual levity, she now shifts into a much more thoughtful register. She doesn't look at Colette - her yellow eyes /regard/ the other woman. The conclusion of whatever thought process goes on behind this gaze takes the form of a single nod. "I dunno that it has much to do with me. Least, nothing I was thinkin' on myself. That… whatchacallit? Perspective. That's all you. You did that work, which ain't a mean thing. Me…" the corner of her mouth, a serious line throughout, twitches up a little, "I just slept in."

The half-smile soon gains momentum, and Sable's levity returns, though a certain earnestness remains. "That said, if you ever need some more help with yer perspective," Sable lifts a hand to her lips, kisses her fingertips, then leans forward to touch Colette's cheek, transferring the contact, "Just lemme know."

Her eyes hold Colette's for a moment, before she eases back, gaze flicking back over to the box. "Okay… doesn't sound like rocket science or anythin'," she says, brow creasing slightly as she reaches in to take up the semi-cylindrical wand. She removes the plastic cap with unnecessary care, setting it aside as if she thinks it might be crucial later on. A moment is spent considering her fingers, deciding which one needs be sacrificed. Her left thumb is chosen, pressed over the top of the wand, which is held in her right hand. Her right thumb depresses the button, and her thumb jerks involuntarily as a hidden needle juts out.

Sable continues to hold this position, peering at her hands intently until, finally, she lets her eyes slide to Colette. Her expression sends a clear message: 'What next?'

"Now," Colette leans over to Sable, one hand taking the brunette's and the other taking the plastic wand, "we wait." Separating the two, Colette looks the test kit over, then leans across Sable for the box, picking it up and turning it around before slanting an askance look at the brunette. "Hey, think about it this way, could be a pregnancy test!" There's a lopsided smile offered there, and Colette can't help but punctuate the joke with a laugh, shaking the box as she does, getting the folded paper instructions out.

"Let's see it's… if it turns blue, you're normal…" Colette's green eyes angle over to Sable from the instructions, "ish," the teen adds with a smirk, then looks back to the instructions again. "If it turns red," she notes with a nod of her head, "then you're like me…" and with another askance look she adds, "moreso."

Setting the test down on the island, Colette turns fully to rest her stomach against the counter, hands folded and elbows resting on the countertop. "Takes ten minutes though so… why don't you tell me what got Mags drinking?"

"Lord save me from normality," Sable replies with a wide smile, "A save me twice over from gettin' knocked up. Ain't nothing about that notion that appeals to me," she gives a theatrical shudder, "Just the thought… Jesus. Give me the fuckin' jitters."
A single red bead has welled up on the pad of her thumb, and Sable proceeds, with no noticeable shame or self consciousness, to stick the wounded digit in her mouth and suck on it while she listens to Colette explain the possible results, using a nod here and there to indicate that she follows. The last comment makes her snort, and pluck her thumb from her mouth. "Dunno 'bout you, but I was always told that was a matter 'f choice," she comments, tone undisguisedly bitter, "Dipshits shoulda known I'd choose wrong, just to spite 'em."

The mention of Magnes causes Sable to peek towards the door, a pointless, essentially superstitious perimeter check. Like Magnes would be sneaking around in his own house, unannounced. She shrugs, "Girl trouble. What else?"

There's that groan and the roll of Colette's eyes again, "Maybe he should find a nice boy," she opines with a raise of her brows, turning over the tester in her hands, lips pursed to the side and head tilted, dark bangs coming to spill over one eye again. "You know, subconsciously sabotaging all of his relationships 'cause he ain't aware he's actually all about a dude?" Colette offers a look over at Sable, then gives a small shake of her head to try and shift her bangs futily, needing to reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear again.

"He got put in my custody, I found out…" There's a grumped noise from Colette at that, and she turns just enough to look over her shoulder at Magnes' bedroom before looking back to Sable. "Ferry-stuff. Basically I'm crackin' his whip an' stuff, or I should be. Kind've got a lot going on right now… Won't be surprised if they put you with me too, once we get that all figured out. The weather's screwing with everything."

Sable starts to cackle at Colette's suggestion of Magnes switching teams, and has to cover her mouth with a hand to stifle the sound. Wouldn't do for /that/ of all things to disturb him. Once she has herself properly under control she folds her hands in her lap and tilts back and forth in her seat, from side to side, in a restless fidget. Not uncommon when waiting for something. She'd have been a wreck if she'd ever taken any sort of exam.

"So we'll all be seein' a bit more of each other, then?" Sable says. She stops rocking occasionally, whenever her eye is caught by one of Colette's own little gestures. The fiddling with her hair, in particular, manages to distract Sable from her innate discomfort over waiting periods. "Glad t' hear it. It'll give me more chances to try and convince you to do lights for us!" A joke, yes, but one can pretty much bet that the punch line will consist of actual routine harassment in this vein.

"So…" her eyes cut over to the oven's digital clock, lingering on the numbers there just long enough for her to figure out that, since she didn't check the time when she pricked her thumb, she can gather no useful intel from the faintly glowing display. "Precisely how much crazy shit have you gotten up to? Magnes is always mentioning these fuckin' lunatic antics, like, pretty much off-handedly. So, y'know, don't hold back or nothin'. I haven't got any shock or, like, disbelief left in me."

Trying to restrain her laughter when she sees Sable doing the same, Colette's cheeks flush with color and a smile tints her lips. She glances over to Magnes' room then shakes her head. "I know a nice Sicilian boy," Colette notes with a crooked smile, "haven't seen him in a while but I bet if we get Magnes drunk enough…" all joking aside, and all choked back laughter with it, Colette does manage to put on a serious face when more serious questions are asked.

Slouching to the side and eyeing the test kit, Colette leans her shoulder against Sable in a bump, then steps forward and away from the island, turning to set the test kit down, and looks around the apartment before starting to roll up her right sleeve carefully. She has to pull it all the way up to almost her shoulder before Sable sees the dark brown stain on white gauze, medical tape and reddened skin,

"New scar," Colette says quietly, motioning with her nose to the gauze, then back up to Sable as she rolls the sleeve back down. "I— got shot. Grazed really, or— anyway, if I didn't have a vest on you wouldn't be having this conversation right now. Sometimes— things go sideways, and bad things happen. But, I volunteered, an' I knew what I was getting into. But— " Colette's brows furrow, eyes cast down to the floor, "shit gets weird sometimes. He isn't exaggerating."

The thing with Magnes' stories is that they are all /stories/ to Sable, and even his normal eye was something she only vaguely recalls before its blinding. The worst state she's ever seen him in was over a pit fight, a context that, for the most part Sable can jive with. She's been in bar fights before, which is to say she's /escaped/ from bar fights before. But that's incidental and, in her mind, mostly innocuous.

A gunshot wound is different. Sable's face falls as she sees the real evidence of real violence, unfiltered by Magnes' optimism and comic-heroic attitude. For all that she said she's immune to shock, this strikes her rather hard. "Jesus…" she breathes, low, as the scar is covered up once more. She bites her lip.

"Y'know, I just want you t'know up front, that I believe in makin' love, not war," she finally states, tapping the spot over her heart with two fingers, "So, y'know… keep that in mind when handin' out the assignments." She smiles, crookedly, but there remains a certain unease in the expression. She clearly doesn't fancy the idea of a vest, or /any/ piece of couture, being all that stands between her and oblivion.

An open-mouthed smile that smacks of just a little bit fluttered embarassment strikes Colette at Sable's comment, though it really shouldn't by now. Her brows furrow, green eyes alight to the brunette and one lifts with a somewhat inscrutable look as she takes a step over to her. "Don't worry…" Colette offers quietly, "I can only protect so many cute girls at one time." It's only fair she tease back, though in her commentary Colette catches sight of something out of the corner of her eyes, and that smile is quick to falter.

Stepping to stand directly in front of Sable, she leans to the side and takes the test kit, turning it screen-side towards her, then lifts up her green eyes to Sable, lower lip trapped between her teeth. Swallowing nervously, she takes a step forward, not much between Colette and Sable's knees now where the brunette's propped up on the counter. The test kit is lifted, turned around, and the bright red panel on the side is a pretty clear indicator.

Red can mean a lot of things — danger, passion, pain — In this case, it means Evolved.

That it means just that is something Sable certainly /remembers/ Colette saying, but memory is often faulty. I mean, 'normal' would be such a boring result maybe she'd remember /blue/ as the positive result if it had come up blue, right? Right? Guys?

All thought of answering Colette with her own banter promptly disappears as Sable goggles at the little red window, a monochromatic aperture leading to a whole new conception of herself. So, naturally, her reaction is to doubt. "Red. That means… uh… that means…" At this point, she actually is no longer sure, she has, in a matter of seconds, so thoroughly guessed, second guessed, and /third/ guessed herself. She reaches for the box, pulling free the papers that explain how to use and read the test in dense, repeating blocks in numerous languages. She finds the English section, the first one, and reads once. Twice. Three times. "So… uh… it says red is… uh… 'positive for the Suresh Linkage Complex'," she says, reciting from the text with laborious care. She looks up at Colette, "What the fuck does that mean? Does that mean…? What does that mean?"

Evidently she needs to be told.

"It means you're special," Colette gives the lightest explanation possible, leaning over to settle down the test and reach up, taking the papers out of Sable's hands, folding them up and tossing them to the side on the counter. "It means you've got choices now, stuff you're going to have to consider, but I'll help." There's a faint smile offered by Colette, hands coming to rest down on Sable's knees.

"You… gonna' be okay?" Dark brows lift up, and Colette's doing her level best to be the calm one in this instance, because she knows how traumatic finding out herself was. "You're gonna' be fine so just— breathe," there's a squeeze of her hands against the brunette's knees, "and relax."

Relaxing is not one of Sable's strong suits. She hasn't had a great deal of practice. Absorption, sure, while listening to a truly great song. Meditative concentration, yeah, while in a particularly good groove. But relaxation is nearly antithetical to her modi operandorum.

Luckily, she has alternatives outside the relax/freak out binary.

"Fuck /yeah/!" Sable declares, entirely forgetting her previous decision to 'keep it down'. She slides off the counter and scoops Colette into her arms, lifting and twirling the other girl before setting her back on her feet. "I fuckin' /knew/ it. Incredible musical genius, baby! It's in my fuckin' blood!" She lifts her thumb to illustrate, though it's no longer bleeding, the tiny puncture no more than a small red speck amidst the whorl of the pad.

Letting out a yelp of surprise when she's picked up and spun, Colette offers only the smallest of grimaces from the ache in her ribs. Not enough to whine about, and certainly not enough to spoil Sable's mood. When she's set down, Colette's smile is evident, even though she's shedding a sigh of relief and modest apprehension that had taken hold of her in those moments of silence. "Hey— hey c'mon, don't wake sulkie." Colette teases with a wrinkle of her nose, stepping around Sable so the pair can alternate positions, Colette now boosting herself up on the counter, legs kicking a little.

"S'cool that you're excited, but you've got some serious decisions to make now. When you go to renew your license, or just… pretty much try and do anything legal, you're going to get tested. I don't know how far along some stuff is, but I think even people who're non-evolved are going to start getting checked for it. It's gonna' get worse 'fore it gets better."

Running her tongue over her lower lip, Colette sways from side to side slowly. "I can help you, fake identification stuff, papers. Or, if you don't give a shit about stuff like licenses or credit cards, you can pop right off the grid. We've got places you can stay, I mean, you can live here in the open for a while, but it's gonna' get harder for you."

Looking down to her lap, Colette folds her hands there, bobbing her head in a slow nod as she looks up to Sable. "Or, you can register. Some of us are, it— it's your choice, how you wanna' live your life. We're givin' you the choice the government ain't."

Sable snickers, "I've been off the grid since I ditched my foster home so, like, all I'd be doin' is going deeper. Only reason I'll be making a visible fuckin' object of myself, legal-wise, is when I sign my first big record deal." Not if, /when/. If only her overweening bravado could be credited solely to the test's result.

Speaking of which… "Okay, okay, so /if/ I registered - which I don't like, of course, because-" she makes an obscene gesture that is actually an inventive amalgam of at least two other obscene gestures, "-the Man! But like, so, /if/ I registered, do they register me as having whatever, like, power I say I have? Or do you, like, have to prove it by doing it in front of… I dunno, a tribunal of douchebag squares?" It would appear, despite the /very/ real difficulties, tough choices and unique hardships that being an Evolved does entail, Sable manages to keep her own priorities firmly intact.

"Well, we— don't know what you can do, which is a problem. As far as I know the tests require a demonstration, and a few witnesses and authorities who know stuff about powers. I— think?" Scrunching up her nose, as she looks cockeyed at Sable's hand gesture, Colette manages a crooked smile after the fact. "You're gonna' need t'think about that. I dunno what they do in your case, I could ask my dad…" there's a wobble side to side, and Colette seems just as prone to fidgeting where she sits as Sable did.

"If you're already out've the public eye then— really— there's no point in registering 'cause you'll have protective services up your ass pretty fast." Colette notes with a certain veteran quality to it. "I booked-it from my foster home too after the bomb, I got picked up by a good cop though. He— took me in, 'ventually adopted me. But… he's with us now, so, it's— different."

Huffing out a breath designed to blow a lock of hair from her face, Colette looks from Sable down to the floor. "Magnes isn't gonna' be able to keep you here forever, eventually… I dunno. This is a pretty noticable building, and it's owned by the Linderman Group, so… it— " Colette shakes her head slowly. "Whenever you're ready to go somewhere else, I'll be right there t'help you. Maybe sometime this week I can show you around with Magnes, give you guys a better idea about what we do."

"I'm just sayin'," Sabel says, her original train of thought still chugging along, "Would they make me play? Like, what if I /proved/ to them it's my musical talent? It'd be, like, official." There is a glint in her eyes that's maybe just liiiittle bit crazy.

But Colette knows too well the hard facts that even people with their heads in the clouds (or up their asses) must eventually tangle with. Sable's expression falls a bit, her excitement ebbing as the /real/ big questions finally force themselves into her mental spotlight. "Ah… hell… /leave/?"

Sable's nibbles on her lip, her brow creasing as she reached behind herself and scratches the nape of her neck in a confluence of nervous gestures. "I mean, Jesus, I don't wanna get him in trouble or anything. And-," she glances to Colette, her voice maybe a touch defensive, "-I'm not a freeloader! I mean… yeah, I'm a freeloader in a /technic'l/ sorta sense. But I told him I didn't wanna be a freeloader and he /insist'd/ I crash with him." Defense turns into anxiety tinged with guilty within the first couple sentences.

Making a soft noise in the back of her throat, Colette shakes her head and leans forward, planting a hand on each of Sable's shoulders. "Focus," Colette offers before pulling Sable forward and leaning in and— gently headbutting her. Konk. "I'm gonna' pretend you aren't crazy enough to register for that, an' that you were joking 'cause I kind've think you're smart and don't wanna ruin that mental image."

Leaning back, letting her hands slide off Sable's shoulders, Colette tilts her head to the side and crosses her arms over her chest. "Magnes is registered, so it's different. But— I dunno what'd happen to him if he got in trouble for hiding you. Especially if the laws get stricter, eventually you're going t'need to either try and get yourself emancipated and all this other garbage and get Registered, or… you're gonna' have to start taking responsibility for your own life. I mean— " Colette rolls her eyes, "God I sound like my dad."

"Um," sighing exasperatedly, Colette lifts a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, "what I mean t'say is," green eyes alight from her lap to Sable, "eventually you're going to have to make a choice, of being free, or being comfortable. I didn't make it this way, but… it's how it's going to be, sooner or later."

Sable slips into near-surliness, her mood clearly shot to hell, emotional payback for her previous elation. Her arms cross over her chest in a perfect image of churlishness, though she's not as bad as all that - at least she doesn't seem angry /at/ Colette. She feels she must defend herself, likely, against her own super ego.

"I made it all the way from Atlanta by myself," she says, glaring mutinously at empty space, "Worked plenty of jobs. Just never stuck around. Or couldn't stick around because the manager was a fuckin' pervert or some shit. Responsibility, /shit/. I've had a double mouthful of that every day for 's long as I can remember."

Her eyes cut over to Colette, and her expression is suddenly a little fierce, "But fuck yeah I'd choose free. Hardly ever been comfortable. So little that being comfortable, like, feels /uncomfortable/, y'know?"

"Seems pretty good here…" Colette admits with a sad smile, "C'mon, I got a couple hours before I need to head out to catch my friend." Colette slides forward, letting her boots clunk down on the floor, both hands lifting up to ruffle through Sable's hair to jar her out of that sullen mood. "You don't have to decide right now, 'cause ain't nobody gonna' come up here and fuck with you in this weather." Leaning back and letting her hands come down onto Sable's shoulders, Colette tilts her head to the side. "If you wanna' stay off the radar, that's exactly what we'll do. When I leave, I'll get in touch with somebody who can figure out a good way to help you out."

Offering a warm smile, Colette lifts her brows and gives a squeeze to each of Sable's shoulders. "So, you're special— like me an' Magnes— we don't know what it is you do," she tries to drive that home, "but we'll figure it out. No worries, now— we got two more hours, mind off of the troubles and the past. Ahead, to the future!" Colette chirps, then grimaces awkwardly and adds, "or— something."

There is no greater weapon against someone who is up in arms than genuine kindness. Sable looks instantly ashamed of herself, which still ends up registering as slightly sulky, but that may simply be the way she makes that face. She nods, staring at the floor for a moment, then up at Colette, then back down, then back up, then… she reaches out, steps forward, and /hugs/ Colette. It's a pretty damn firm embrace, too, considering how worn out her arms are from this morning… and how tender Colette's ribs still are.

The grimace is offered over Sable's shoulder, brows wrenched and one eye squinted shut at the hug. Colette makes a squeaking noise, but it's easy enough to misinterprt as an endearingly affectionate sound rather than the noise of oh god the pain, the last thing she wants to do is make Sable feel worse. After the moment of wincing shock, Colette gently wraps her arms aorund Sable's shoulders, resting her nose down atop the brunette's hair, breathing out a warm, comforting breath there. If nothing else, Colette has learned how to smooth over people's emotions with affection, inappropriate or not.

"Not a bad start," Colette offers with a press of her nose into Sable's hair, "not so hard bein' a freak, now is it?"

Sable eases up on the death grip, and then steps back from Colette, though her hands remain on the girl's upper arms. "Naw," she says, looking more herself already, making what looks like a quick recovery, "Had plenty of practice." Her wolfish grin makes it clear she's back in action.

Pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek, Colette wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes, sliding down off of the island with a clomp of her boots. "You're a cocky thing, you know that?" She notes with a raise of one brow, "but fine…" there's a shift of green eyes askance, then down to the hands on her arms as she looks back to Sable, nose wrinkled. "I'll probably still be around when you really need to worry, and…" Colette's head bobs from side to side, "my door's always open for people who need somebody, you— you know." There's a smirk, brows creasing together and head canting slightly in a catlike inspection of Sable, one hand up and brushing a thumb across the brunette's cheek beneath one eye.

"You ever wonder if your power's vision related?" Colette asks with her hand still there, "I mean… those're yellow," she offers so very helpfully, leaning in close, her nose brushing Sable's as she stares into the brunette's eyes. "Not contacts, not… they're just weird." Colette leans back just a touch, head tilting again.

"You got X-ray vision and not told anybody?" Colette teases with a smirk.

Sable is pretty damn charmed by the brief contacts Colette makes with her, and there is certainly part of her that gets vague and fuzzy as a result, but she has some strong learned instincts. Her hands move from Colette's arms, brushing her sides before finding her waist, a touch that is pretty darn friendly.

Her smile isn't /quite/ goofy, but it looks like it wants to be. Still, she keeps it as cool as she can. "Hell, they're just nature's way of remindin' me of my destiny. Two gold records… my eyes lit'rly on the prize."

She rises on her toes a bit, canceling their height difference, and brings her forehead to touch against Colette's. "Hon, if I had X-ray vision,

Bubbling with a laugh that is obviously elicited by some amusement at Sable's attentions, Colette's lips part into a toothy open-mouthed smile as her cheeks flush and brows raise, watching Sable silently as she plays the corniest line about her eyes. There's a raise of dark brows, and Colette makes a soft noise in the back of her throat at the touch of hands on her hips. "I…" there's a croak of hesitation there, swallowed by selfishness a moment later.

"You're… so lame," Colette breathes out the words teasingly, her nose pressed against Sable's, enticed by the same impishly seductive manners of the only slightly older girl. "Lame… but cute…" she already regrets saying as it slips from her lips, but then again true in both regards.

Pensively toying with her bottom lip, Colette's eyes flick from side to side at Sable's, breath a little unsteady, and now she's watching the clock over the brunette's shoulder, before looking back to her with one brow raised. "Shame you… have to look the hard way," Colette offers back, the threat of another bubbling laugh at the back of her throat as she lets her nose dance across Sable's playfully, her words doubling as warm breaths across the other girl's lips from the closeness. Seems Sable hasn't lost her touch yet.

The corners of Sable's eyes crinkle with laughter, but she manages to keep it there. Colette's resistance to her absurd hyperbole gets her, and Sable can hope that her hyperbole is part of what gets Colette. But, then again, does it matter as long as she's got…?

The glance towards the clock is something Sable catches, and she turns her head, eyes darting to their corners as she snatches a glance at the time. "Two hours you said, right?" she says, turning back to Colette with all due haste. The time limit does lend a touch of urgency to her tone. "If you make me promise," she says, taking Colette's hips firmly in hand and drawing the girl in close, this half embrace rather different than the emotional vice of minutes before, "I won't make you late," she bites her lip for just a second, "If you /make/ me promise."

There's a hush of breath, a noise in the back of Colette's throat bordering on a whimper that the touch. Her head swims, a chill goes up her spine and she feels wanted again, that sensation of simple physical desire that often isn't angled at her. Chasing her dreams is one thing, but the cruder and simpler realities are often the easiest to latch onto. Letting her arms loop around Sable's shoulders, Colette rises up onto her toes and rests one hadn against the back of the brunette's head, shuddering out a sigh against her trapped lip.

No words, just a kiss, as feverish as it is impulsive, fingers curling into Sable's hair, walking forward as she pushes the smaller girl back across the narrow span of kitchen's space, cornering her against the opposite countertop. Colette leans forward, a hand on Sable's hip, thumb fingind flesh between the space of shirt and pants, pressing against the curve of her hip. Lips press together, eyes shut, and Colerre breathes out a heavier sigh into the kiss.

It's clear as though Colette may not even have intentions of the promise, hand sliding around Sable's side, bare hand moving up the skin of her back, fingertips up the rise and fall of vertibrae. A touch of nails, then, and Colette's free hand moves to cup the side of Sable's cheek, lift her chin up, and…


"I can't." Colette breathes out sharply, with every single fiber of ber being leaning behind that to try and break away, lips drawing away, eyes shut, fingers sitll in Sable's hair as she lets herself draw away from the young woman. "I can't," she repeats, breathing heavily, face flushed red and eyes wide.

A step back comes next, reluctant, brows raised and that warm palm sliding away from where nails just made the threat of a good time. She clings to the hem of Sable's shirt as she pulls away, head shaking slowly and eyes still wide. "I— I shouldn't," seems less reinforced, but it has a different meaning to Colette.

"I'm sorry," however, is clear enough to both of them.

Aw, hell.

Sable has to take a moment just to return to earth, let alone process the /very/ sudden change in mood. Without any intention of putting on a show, her expression is one of comic surprise. She doesn't go so far as to shake her head in order to regain herself, but she does reach out to touch her fingers against the edge of the counter, a symbolic gesture of steadying.

When she's accounted for all her proper mental functions, and applied them to the situation, she moves to take Colette's shoulder, then /instantly/ stops herself, teetering back, gracelessly turning the motion into a sort of arm flop.

"Naw…" Sable says, the first word a little croaky. She clears her throat, "Naw…" back to normal again, "I understand. Or… well, maybe not understand. But I dig. Well, maybe not dig," she tries smiling but does an uneven job of it, "But, y'know…" She laughs, nervously, despite herself; it's a breathy sound, accompanied by the faint sound of her scratching the nape of her neck.

"I want… you," Sable hears herself say this, and cannot help laughing again, no more than she can help completing her thought, "I mean, you're /heavy/" It's not early 90's slang she's using, nor some nonsensical weight crack. It's a song reference, which is marginally less embarrassing. If it helps, it sounds like she /means/ it. "But you told me, you've got somethin' real. And I told you that I'd never try 'n'… get in the way. And I mean it. Same as you did."

Running her tongue across the inside of her teeth, Colette swallows nervously, backed up to the island with one hand braced there in mirror to Sable's posture. Still trying to stop breathing so hastily, Colette lifts a hand to wipe down across her face, green eyes wide. "You— you're— intense," Colette admits, nodding her head slowly and letting her teeth draw against her lower lip. "I— I just— it's not…"

There's an incline of her head, green eyes finally averted down to her feet and throat tightening. "It's not her," Colette offers in explanation, half-heartedly. "I met… someone," Colette's brows furrow, "m— maybe I'm— I'm doing the whole chasing something that isn't real thing again, maybe I'm not, I just— " green eyes wander up to Sable, and Colette tenses, fingers curling against the edge of the counter.

"I'm stupidly sentimental…" Colette offers in whispered explanation, jaw giving a tiny tremble from both embarrassment and shame at having pulled away from the girl across from her. "She's— she's really… you'd have to meet her," isn't quite the best explanation Colette can offer, but it's close. "If it isn't real, then… that's one thing. But she— could be— I don't even know. Real."

Which is to imply, more than just this. Perhaps that's one of the things keeping Colette from coming back for more, that emotional attachment beyond the physical. "I really like you… I— I do. I really," she huffs out a laugh, "really do. I just— I'm… I'm sorry. But I can't just— Even if we're not— if— " there's a strain of breath there, "she's different." Yet somehow, Tamara wasn't? It's not the best argument Colette can make, and certainly a selfish one.

Colette smiles, nervously, ducking her head down, stepping away from the island and walking back over to Sable, lifting a hand up to brush knuckles over the back of Sable's cheek, then leans in and lightly presses a kiss to her forehead before leaning back. "She's that."

And that's the best explanation Colette can give.

For the second time in this encounter, Sable shifts almost instantly into a thoughtful state. Again, it's like Colette is being regarded, as if there were something in her face, in the motes of her eyes, that might hold some detail crucial to understanding /just/ what she means. And, just as before, Sable concludes this brief pause with a single nod.

"Arright," she says, voice level, and not even in a forced way, "You see if she's what you need," and the seriousness doesn't last long, though it doesn't leave - instead its joined by a smile, "Damn but wouldn't be nice if she was. And you a lucky thing to find her." She lifts a hand to tap the side of her nose, "If there's still a horizon over that hill you're climbing, if it ain't the top of the world… you come on back now," she shrugs, "I'd give it a run with you. For serious. If I'm available. Which, comon'," she flashes a grin, "Stag like me? I'll be around. Y'know, in case."

Bubbling up with laughter, Colette leans forward and wraps her arms around Sable, tightly, pressing her cheek to the other girl's, nose resting down against her shoulder for a moment before leaning back and away, forearms draped over Sable's shoulders, fingers drumming on her back. "You're sweeter than you give yourself credit for," Colette admits with a crook of a smile, head tilting to the side and dark bangs falling over one eye. "Thanks…" she says softly, "for understanding and… thanks."

Lifting a hand to run fingers though Sable's hair backwards to forwards in a very intentional messing up of her already messy hair, Colette slinks back and away, about as graceful as her clomping boots would indicate. "Come on," Colette offers with a crooked smile, sheepishly dipping her head down into a nod before one hand tucks bangs away behind her ear, "go get your guitar, I wanna see just what you've been boastin' about."

Then, with a wrinkle of her nose she adds teasingly, "I only do light shows for the best."

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