Ryans Has a Nightmare


amadeus_icon.gif delia_icon.gif

Scene Title Ryans Has a Nightmare
Synopsis … It's this.
Date August 21 2010

NYU + Van

Silly students and their drug debts. Though this particular student has worked up quite the gambling debt too. Amadeus wanted to make a quick buck, so a collection job's not much to him. "This all you got for me?" he asks as he stands in an empty lab with a student he seems to have a few inches on, wearing his black AC/DC shirt with a black MLB bat bag on his back. "Five thousand dollars on a twenty thousand debt? Man, your ball's are as good as fried."

"Look, man, that's the best I can do! I've got student loans!" the blonde shakily defends as Amadeus grabs his wrist.

"The boss'll give you a week, then I come back for a finger. Nothin' personal, it's just business. Good luck, buddy." With that, he heads out, hands in his pockets as he walks down the hall and outside the school, slipping a joint inbetween his lips but not lighting yet. It's around 3PM, and some people's classes are ending. "It's a good day." he mutters to himself, eyes half-lidded against the sun.

At 3:05pm Delia is already late but luckily, she's already mostly dressed for work. The lycra cycling pants are safely worn underneath a pair of loose jeans, but the rest of the courier uniform is out there and visible. Her eyes are cast down to the ground so she doesn't see that she's quickly approaching a man at a speed that's rather unsafe for a bunch of steps. It's inevitable that the collision happens and boy does it ever. Her bag literally clatters to the ground, spilling heavy books everywhere.

"Oh god! I'm sorry!" She exclaims in a very hurries fashion. The redhead doesn't make a move to help the man aside from a gloved grip on his arm to make sure he doesn't tip forward. When she's satisfied that he's not going to fall down the steps and sue her for everything she's worth, she's down on the ground repacking the bag with all those heavy books.

"Huh?" Amadeus asks as he almost tumbles forward, but grips her hand to stop himself, sighing in relief when he's regained his footing. "Fuck…" He seems as if he's about to say something indignant, but then gets a good look at her and just shrugs, leaning down to start helping with her books. "It's cool, I know you college chicks are always rushin' and stuff." He takes a look at some of her books, eyebrows raised for a moment. "Damn, you can actually understand this stuff?"

Delia slows a little to take a look at the man she almost sent hurtling to his doom. It doesn't take too long before she's zipping the books back up into the bag and swinging it onto her back. "Uh… yeah? It's called studying." There's just a hint of sarcastic edge to her voice, or maybe a lot more than just a hint. Her eyes shift to the joint and she backs down a few steps to put a little distance between them. "D'you mind? That's a little bit illegal, and I really don't want to go to prison for being seen with you."

"I didn't light it or anything." Amadeus removes it from his mouth and slips it into his pocket. "And trust me, you won't go to prison for being seen with me. I've been seen with guys doing a lot worse than pot smoking." He brushes his hands off, looking down for a brief moment before his head turns up to watch her. "Besides, when you get arrested for possession, they don't exactly send you to maximum security. Wasn't a bad three years, just really boring."

The student graces the stoner with a wrinkled nose and grimace of distaste. As she backs down a few more steps, she jams her hands into her pockets and glances around nervously. "Uhm… seriously? Three years in maximum security?" Just being seen with an ex-con makes the young woman visibly nervous, her breath quickens (and not in the good way). The hands in Delia's pockets curl into fists, one of them around her handy dandy little whistle that she keeps just in case of emergencies.

"No way, they'd eat me alive. I was arrested for possession. I'm tryin' to say that they don't put you in maximum security for possession. Fuck, I ain't a murderer." Amadeus walks next to her, hands still in his pockets, apparently not having anything better to do before he has to take the money from the man who hired him for the job. "A thief, con artist, stoner, maybe, but I never did anything that'd get me put into maximum security. Fuck, you must've been scared shitless." He can't help but laugh at that, shaking his head with an amused smile.

Something about this man just rankles the redhead. Her eyebrows furrow into a rather angry frown and she narrows her eyes at him. "I'm not scared. I just can't afford to be caught with someone who … does that… and is an ex-con. I have a life ahead of me, not just a bunch of wasted years before I get a cap popped in my ass and become another hood statistic." It's possible that she's talking about the man walking beside her, here's hoping he's not packing any heat. Her jaw clenches and her lips purse together in a rather displeased expression.

"I'm not wanted or in a gang, I'm not a mor… well alright, but I know how to stay out of trouble. The possession thing was just a dumb fuckup." Amadeus doesn't sound too annoyed, he can at least understand her concerns as they continue to walk. "I don't think I've ever gotten my, like, what d' ya call it? Character ripped apart, so fuckin' thoroughly, without that many words." The fact seems to amuse him a bit, though there's a hint of at least being a little bothered by it in his eyes, he tries not to let that on too easily. "Amadeus Deckard. And for the record, I ain't the kinda guy who'd drag a chick with a future down with 'im."

Pause. Delia literally pauses in midstep and pivots very slowly to look at the man beside her again. "D- Deckard?" She actually stutters the name. Her eyes a little wider than before and she blinks a few times while taking in a deep breath and holding it for a half a minute. "As in Flint Deckard? HomeSec guy?" She clears her throat and gives the thug a weak sort of smile. "Hi… Delia Ryans." The smile widens to a very brilliant one, too bad it doesn't reach her blue eyes. "My dad works with your dad."

"Whoa, wait a fuckin' minute." Amadeus holds his hands up, as if he's just been hit with some surreal bombshell. "My loser fuckin' dad works for homeland security? Drunken bar guy who needs a shave? That's… how the fuck? He's got sexy little blondes and smart redheads hanging around with him, and now the government's got him working for 'em? What crazy fuckin' planet did I land on."

He doesn't seem angry or upset exactly, just genuinely surprised and confused. How could Flint Deckard be Homeland? "Shit, sorry, don't mean to be a fuckin' sailor in front of a college chick, that's just a big fuckin' bombshell to drop on a guy. I just met him a few days ago, first time in my whole life."

The young woman actually get a little bit of a smile on her face when the man talking to her starts describing his dad. "Heh.. seriously? Isn't he kind of ol— " Another pause. "Nevermind, my sister was trying to get him in the sack when he was watching us one night. So I think I can believe it." Delia's nose wrinkles again in distaste, this time not for Amadeus himself but for the mental image that's formed in her mind. "Yeah… gross. If she got pregnant with your little brother, we'd be semi-related."

"How… I… what the fuck? Your sister tried to screw him? If she looks anything like you, that just blows my fuckin' mind." Amadeus shakes his head, pulling out a pack of Trident in a purple package, offering her one. "Fuck, I hope I've got some crazy fuckin' appeal when I'm his age. And God I can't stop dropping f-bombs, I'm really… freakin' sorry."

Delia takes a stick of gum as she shakes her head. "Naw… she doesn't look anything like me, I don't think." After unwrapping it and popping it in her mouth, she chews on it a few times before snapping her fingers. "Hang on a sec! I have —" She pulls her wallet out of one of the vest pockets and flips it open to a little folder of family photos. There's a few of Delia with friends, a couple of a blonde bombshell, and one of Delia with her sister and father. Pointing to the blonde picture, she lifts it up to Amadeus and taps the face. "That's Lu, my sister."

Amadeus bends over slightly to take a good look at the picture, then looks up at her, down at the picture, and back up to her again. "Your sister's not bad, pretty smokin' actually, you both are, but you've got an honest face, and I like an honest face." He doesn't say what an 'honest face' is, he just stands up straight and slips a stick of gum into his mouth before sliding it into his pocket. "And you've got pretty eyes." he quickly adds, and turns to keep walking again. "You were rushin' somewhere, need a ride?"

Dumbfounded is a great word for the expression on Delia's face right now but she quickly collects herself. The wallet gets folded back up and popped into her pocket and she eyes the bus stop across the street. "I was going to work, actually, Roosevelt Island." She's not exactly sure if you can get there by car since she's always just used her bike. Giving the scruffy guy another sidelong glance, she shrugs and wrinkles her nose. "I don't know if you can get there by car. It might just be faster to take my bike."

"I drive a van, I'll just put your bike in the back and take you as far as I can go." Amadeus suggests, not having anything better to do really, and it's always interesting to talk to people who know his father. "Too bad you've got work, it'd be cool to hang out. I won't smoke pot or get you shot or anything." he laughs, teasing her for her earlier reactions.

"Good, because I can't afford to get shot. I can't go to the ho— I mean, I have way too much going on to go to the hospital and spend eons there recovering." Delia's blue eyes slide a sidelong glance toward Amadeus, suspicious if he actually caught her almost foible. She turns to head to the bike racks around the building and stops at a fairly expensive bike. It's been locked up seven ways from Sunday and looks to be about the same price and some people would pay for a car. "Van huh? Do you use it to kidnap people or what?"

"I live in it. Remember that whole jail thing I mentioned? Well I've got no place to stay, getting a job's hard, so I've been living in the van. Curfew makes it a bitch, but sometimes I can talk my way into a hotel, but most of the time I spend my nights dodging the cops." Amadeus opens the back of his van, which has a bed taking up most of it, with lots of containers and a few backpacks. His whole life is clearly back there. "When I got out, I was gonna look for Flint, but the storm hit. Fuckin' blessing in disguise, I lost my ability. Fuck that Evolved bullshit."

He raises an eyebrow at the bike, looking impressed. "You could get a big chunk of cash for that. You live in a penthouse or somethin'?"

Gripping onto her bike tightly, Delia almost scowls at Amadeus when he talks about her precious bike. "I work at a courier service too. A good bike is the difference between on time and late with a delivery." It's a simple explanation, but in the growly tone of voice she's using, it's likely the only one he's going to get about it. The inside of the van earns a wide eyes gaping mouthed stare that's usually only seen on cartoon shows. Slowly, her face (still wearing that shocked anime expression) turns toward him and her eyebrows raise high up on her forehead. "Seriously? You live in here? How long has it been since you had a shower?" For her own part, Delia showers pretty much twice daily.

"Getting a shower's not hard. Helps to keep up with vacant houses and apartments. When you know the open house schedules, it's pretty easy to just go in and take a shower. I don't risk staying all night though, way too fuckin' risky." Amadeus walks in and heads all the way to the front, squeezing inbetween the two seats to get behind the wheel. "Close the doors tight. And I don't have a huge choice, it's sleep in here, a filthy shelter I might get shanked in, or the street."

The door is slammed and when the young woman is pretty much sure they're not being listened to, she turns to Amadeus and tilts her head. "You lost an ability in the storm? How did you do it? I mean, is that something that can happen to everyone with abilities?" Odd questions, but pretty straight forward, looks like she's not beating around the bush. "Because that would be pretty cool, everyone would be on equal footing again, no more 'special' people or 'evolved' people. Evolved from what exactly, aliens?"

"I got that crazy flu, and then didn't have my ability when I got better. I fuckin' hated it, who wants to hear what cats think? They're assholes. I don't like that Evolved crap worry me." Amadeus turns the key as the van rumbles, then starts to pull off. "So some guy can fly, or shoot lasers out his eyes? A bat between the eyes'll take any fucker down before he can do anything. But I think I get where you're comin' from. If some douche has super strength, he can kick ass at baseball and it's like, totally not fair." He's wearing a baseball bat, before he dropped it in the back, so who knows, maybe he's had an experience. "Or a guy who can turn into lots of people can put workers out of business. I don't think they deserve to die or anything, that's crazy shit, but either curing 'em or giving us all an ability, one that doesn't suck, would be pretty fuck… freakin' equal."

"Seriously? So why doesn't the government give all the evolved people the flu to get rid of abilities instead of worrying about mass registration?" It seems like a logical conclusion in her mind, Delia's still looking Amadeus over, taking her sweet time at it too. Every movement of his hand is studied carefully, every twitch of his head as he checks mirrors along the drive. "Anyway… So you said you were looking for your dad when you got out of prison? How come you're not living with him? Is his place too tiny or something?"

"Probably civil rights bullshit, and having the flu fuckin' hurts, thought I was gonna die for a while. I heard not everyone lost their ability." Amadeus is rather relaxed as he drives, far from being one who partakes in the practice of road rage, or even wild driving. "That deadbeat acted like he took a shit a few years ago and then it showed up a few years later and talked to him. So he ain't gonna be any help. That's life for ya."

Chewing on her lip, it's obvious that Delia really doesn't understand what the driver is saying. "Really? I mean… really? But he's your dad, right? I mean, he's your dad." Not to mention, he's Amadeus' dad. Delia's a little stuck on that one. "What kind of a dad just— Really?" This actually makes the redhead a little upset. Where would she be if her dad was even more absent. At least he cares enough to put a roof over her head and food in the house. "Do you need a job or something? Or would you even pass a drug test?"

"Doesn't mean a whole lot. He didn't give a damn for the last twenty-four years, why would he now? I just thought he might at least put me up in his place for a while." Amadeus shrugs, apparently not as bothered by it as he should be, at least not outwardly. "I couldn't pass a drug test if my fuckin' life depended on it. You don't gotta worry about me, I'll figure somethin' out." A pause, and he asks, "Can I get your number?"

Freeze Frame! Delia's head turns toward the window where the song is drifting in from the car adjacent to them. Almost as if she didn't hear the man's question, she looks back at him with a smile and points. "I love that song! Freeze Frame! Doo doo doo doo doo-do-do-doo doooo~!" She's not a very good singer either. So far from it that it's downright horrible. Whoever the redhead got her talent from, she should return it and get her money back. She shouldn't quit her day job, her evening job, or her overnight job because whatever time she's spending breaking eardrums is not worth it. "Sorry, what? Phone number? I.. I don't have a cell phone." She doesn't, no matter how much her father's insisted, she's always managed to 'lose' the ones he's gotten her.

Amadeus is laughing when she starts singing, not quite because it's bad, more because she started doing it out of the blue. "Christ, if you had a number, I'd really want it." he says as he wipes tears from his eyes, then starts driving off again. "You can turn the radio on if you want. Surprised a young chick like you doesn't have a phone, but that's old school, I can respect that."

"Phones are distracting," Delia says as she leans down to turn on the radio. She finds the station with the coveted song and this time, instead of singing, she hums along. It's still horrible. "I've got too much to do every day to worry about anyone calling or having to answer text messages or something like that. I have a beeper for one of my jobs, but it stays there unless I'm on shift." She pulls a little card out of her pocket and begins to scribble a few things down on it. "Here… this is my email and my AIM handle, I'm usually on both of them in class or when I'm working at the bookstore. That's a good third of my awake time, you'll catch me there faster than if I gave you my dad's number."

"I can get to a computer. So many fuc… freakin' libraries around here." Amadeus takes the card and slips it into his pocket, then pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it over to her. He got tired of writing on them repeatedly. "That's my number, for like, whatever." He offers a little grin when he says 'whatever', but otherwise leaves it up in the air. "You seem like a nice little girl, your dad would probably fuckin' wanna kick my ass if you ever brought a guy like me home."

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