Participants:
| Scene Title | Ready and Waiting |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Devon presents the gifts from Kincaid to Elisabeth, as help for their band of rebels. Some final plans are put in place, all that's left to do is survive until the time for departure comes. — OOC Note: This log was done before the renewal. The plans to depart should be ignored!! |
| Date | October 1, 2011 |
Skinny Brickfront : Endgame Safehouse
Outings have become less frequent. Not that Devon has been hiding himself away in his room or any other place he can find to get away from people. He hasn't been. He has just been staying indoors far more often. When he does leave, he's rarely alone, but occasionally a trip comes up that he partakes on by himself, usually after leaving a note or letting someone know when to expect him back. Such a trip alone was taken yesterday, ending with the teenager coming in a bit later than he'd said, skirting curfew by a couple hours, and talking of everything but where his field trip had taken him.
Then came morning.
The boy is up a little early, milling about in the kitchen trying to make coffee and oatmeal. Both usually easy things that can satisfy a number of people. A spoon scrapes against the bottom of the pain while the aroma of fresh black brew wafts through the kitchen and into the common room. Bowls and spoons and mugs are set out on a spool so the inhabitants of the house can come and go as they please.
It's the odor of coffee that has drawn Elisabeth. She's been pretty busy making ready for the group that chooses to go to depart New York. At a moment's notice if they have to. It's a complicated business and includes leaving a few subtle clues for a man who might never show up again. She comes through to the kitchen and smiles at Devon. "How're you holding up, kiddo?"
"I'm doing okay." Devon's head lifts from inspecting the pot of mush, turning to grin at Elisabeth. "I think I'm just about ready. Couple of places to go by still." And packing. He's been procrastinating over that task. "I saw Kincaid yesterday," he continues, pulling the oatmeal from the little stove. "Went by Studio K. I guess Kristen left him a good part of the company."
Elisabeth blinks. "She died?" There's a deep sigh. "Dammit." Shoving a hand through her hair, the blonde looks unhappy. "So damn many people, Dev. I'm glad to hear Kincaid's doing all right, though."
"Of the flu," Devon confirms with a small shrug. As though it hadn't needed to be said. The pot of oatmeal is set beside the bowls, Devon's uninjured hand retreating into his pocket. "Marlena, too. I tried, but…" Despite his efforts, there wasn't ever a cure and as far as he can tell the virus is still running rampant. "Kincaid's doing good, though. It's a good role for him, running that place. —He gave me a couple of things, too. For us… the group."
The name Marlena takes a moment to register, and then Elisabeth pales a little. "Brennan's kid?" The eldest one was the only one she'd ever really heard a name for. "Jesus Christ," she murmurs. "Poor guy." Shaking her head as she leans on the counter, she asks, "Kincaid gave you something for us? What?" She looks puzzled.
A nod this time, confirming the assumption. Devon lifts his unpocketed hand, fingers scratching at the side of his neck. "He gave us some of the studio's money, not a lot but… something. And a phone number to call if we need something." The off record goes unspoken. "He called it his version of heroics. Since mine seemed a little absurd to be trying in his office."
Elisabeth tilts her head. "He gave you a phone number? For … what?" she asks quietly. "Everyone seems to basically be laying low at this point. Even us. The broadcast… is ready to go. I'm just trying to find a good moment to put it out." She smiles a little. She's been struggling with the feeling that she gave it all up for nothing a lot lately.
"If we needed anything," the boy repeats with another small shrug. "That's not connected to anything like the studio. —I wonder if Kincaid would look the other way if we used the studio to put it out, if we needed it." He doesn't want to put the studio under scrutiny, but if he could keep the employees there free and clear… "If Phillip isn't able to come through with anything, maybe Alia could make it look like it was hacked."
"Possibly. But I don't think we'll have to worry about that part. Getting it out is doable. It's just picking the right time." Elisabeth sighs. "Another couple of weeks and I think we'll be ready to go. All supplied up and money in place."
Nodding, Devon looks at the pot of oatmeal. "I think we can manage surviving a couple of more weeks. We've lasted this long." He pauses, eyes lifting, looking to Elisabeth. "Seems strange to be thinking of leaving, let alone actually preparing to leave."
"Yeah," Elisabeth agrees. "I know. I keep expecting Eve to pop up and … tell me a riddle that will keep me here. Or for Joshua to turn up. Or… any number of other things. Some part of me keeps thinking that if we're not meant to leave, something will happen to make us not go." She pauses and then smiles sadly. "But I think in the end, there's just… choices."
"I half expect something to come up, too." The teen shakes his head, mustering a faint grin. "I'm going to stop by Mister Russo's place, and Melissa's. Collect some of my things and return keys. Then it's just visit my parents one last time and I'll be set to leave whenever the time's come."
With a nod, Elisabeth understands. "I need to send word to my father. I've left that til the last," she admits. "I don't know if he'll be better or worse knowing that I'm out of the country. He might consider it safer. I just…. wonder if that means I'll never see him again." She has the same fears as Devon, honestly.
"We'll come back one day," Devon points out gently, half smiling. "When it's safe again, when… all the stupid has worn itself out. Or if we're called to fight again." Which hopefully they won't be. "Your dad could always come visit, too. When things are settled and he can get across the borders without drawing attention."
"From your lips to God's ears, kiddo," Elisabeth says quietly. She's become … calmer. With the acceptance of their situation.
The boy's head tilts slightly, to one side, a curious quirk to his grin. After a moment, his teeth pull at his lip, eyes looking at some abstract point on the counter. "…Do… you want to come with? When I go see my parents? I think Graeme's going to go, but… I'd like it if you joined us, if you want to."
Elisabeth pauses and says quietly, "If you want me to come with, I will… but I can't imagine they'll be thrilled at knowing that you're going to be with me. I'm a wanted felon, Devon." The reminder is gentle.
"They've been gone for almost five years," Devon replies, turning to lean back against the edge of the counter. "I think they'd be happy to know I was with people who'll watch out for me, and that… regardless of how above or below the law it is, I've stood up for what I believe in, with people doing the same."
"Then I'll go if you'd like." Elisabeth smiles. "I'll reassure them as much as I can."
"Yeah." Devon looks up at Elisabeth, that same old half grin returning. "I'd like it if you came with." He pushes away from the counter and grabs the spoon stuck in the oatmeal. A healthy scoop is scraped from the pot and plopped into the topmost bowl. A spoon for eating follows, and the simple fare is offered to her. "Most important meal, and the coffee is still hot."
She screws up her nose in disgust. But Elisabeth takes the oatmeal and goes straight for the sugar and milk. For both coffee and oatmeal. "Yes, mother," she teases.
"That's what you get when I'm left to make breakfast," the teenager states with a grin. "Maybe next time I'll try pancakes, though." A scoop of oatmeal goes into a second bowl, and he follows for sweeteners and milk.