Participants:
| Scene Title | She Didn't Like The Sales Pitch |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Bored and mischievous as ever, Huruma invades Ryans' space again and shows up for dinner. |
| Date | April 25, 2010 |
Ryan's Hotel Room
Never has it been this cold this far into spring, its got just about everyone huddled inside to keep warm. Ryans and his youngest are two such individuals, hunkered down in the warm of his small hotel room several floors up. They sit at the tiny table, set right next to the window, the radiator clicking softly as it dumps out heat. The world is dark outside the window, save for the twinkle of lights in other buildings.
Ryans stares out the window, looking past the reflection of himself, decked out in a dark red henley and blue jeans. Normally there would be many little lines speeding along the streets below, but not tonight… Tonight all he can see is the pale gray snow, as the moon manages to find a break in the cloud cover.
He has a box from a near by Chinese food place, held in one hand, chop sticks in another… a skill he picked up overseas. "I'm starting to think that this weather is not planning to loosen it's grip." His rumbling tone thoughtful.
Dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a worn out cable knit sweater, Delia also has a carton in one hand and chopsticks in the other. Unlike her father, her skill was picked up by simple mimickry when she was younger. "They should find whoever's doing this and … I dunno… stop them." She says rather glumly. The cold weather has more than begun to take its effect on her, while she's normally quite cheerful to be around her father, she's suffering from being inside a little too much.
"It's like that one Frosty the Snowman cartoon," she adds idly, taking another quick slurp of noodles as she turns her head to look out the window. "Where they try to save Frosty by making it winter all the time. Except here, there's no snowman to go sledding with." The chopsticks are stabbed into the carton a few times before they come out holding a few noodles in the air. "Did I tell you I tried to learn how to skate the other night?"
Dinner with the Ryans clan- well- two of them. Dinner with family is something that the shadow outside the door hasn't had since before she was disowned; though she always outwardly found it unnecessary, there is probably some part of Huruma that would not mind doing it these days. Boredom brought here to his doorstep, but curiosity makes her stay there, listening in with phantom whiskers outstretched to feel at the moods inside the hotel room. The quiet both inside and out is rather bothersome at one point, and so she lifts a hand in debate.
Huruma almost tries the door out of habit, but instead, she plays normal and raps there on the door a few times before moving aside, out of the way of the peephole in the door. She waits, just along the wall where the door will open to. Truly, she has no business here but her own, whatever that may be. Usually she would keep walking and return when he was not there, but this- that must be his other daughter- does not sound much like Lucille.
The knock on the door makes Ryans turns quickly, brows furrowing. A quick glance to Delia, his bros lift slightly. "Maybe that is your sister after all." Chopsticks are pushed into box, before its set down, so he can push to his feet. "You invited her right?" He asks, his tone light, even though with his back turned to his youngest, brows are furrowed with worry.
Hand on the door, Ryans is wishing he could have his gun, but that might freak out Delia. So the senior Company agent takes a chance, the door is opened, slowly his shoulder to the wall. The dark woman on the other side of the door., makes Ryan's breath catch in his throat.
Here he was with his youngest in his room, and a dangerous woman coming a rap rap rapping on his chamber door. "Huruma." He offers politely, eyes narrowing at her, " To what do I owe this pleasure?" Though by the tone of his voice, there is a warning there. Behave.
There's a little bit of a guilty expression as her father mentions her sister. "Uhm… I left a note?" It's in the form of a question, the kind that begs forgiveness. "I uhm.. didn't actually see her. I think she was out with some guy that's been hanging around." Possibly her agent or a photographer, but Delia didn't ask, she was busy.
When Benjamin opens the door, Delia leans back in her chair and cranes her head to see who is on the other side. The sight of the woman has the redhead's eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, or small orbiting moons. "Holy crap… it's a giant…" she whispers to herself, there's a little bit of fear in her voice as she ducks out of line of sight and scoots over to the chair near the wall. "Who is it dad~?" she sing songs, hoping against all hope that it's not her father's newest girlfriend.
She loves that moment- that split second when the feeling of neutral expectation turns into brief horror. Huruma smiles as she leans there against the wall, barely a foot away from the opening door. She smiles, teeth white and the gesture only partially deceiving in politeness. There is some there, regardless. Her neck curves, bringing her cheek against the ruff of her heavy coat. She can feel Delia inside, examining her bout of shock and wariness mixed with that prior flash of guilt. It's interesting, between the two Ryans' here.
"Th'weather. An'boredom." Huruma replies, voice smooth and only loud enough for him. "Your other daughter…?"
"Yes." That warning is still there, alarm playing along Huruma's senses. There is a long moment, before the door opens wider, the older man sets aside. "Delia. My youngest." There is a slightly resigned tone to his voice, a hand motioning her inside.
His daughter's question, has him eyeing Huruma again, "It is no one you know, just an… associate." Ryans motions to the tall dark woman, "This is Huruma. She works with your sister at Old Lucy's."
"Uh, hi… I'm Delia," the youngest Ryans echoes in greeting. She's still staring at the supreme stature of the woman. Where do they grow people that big? "So, you're an associate of Dad's but you work with Lulu? That's kind of…" She glances at her father for a brief moment before darting her blue eyes toward her container of noodles. "…weird."
Picking through the bits in the bottom of the container, she shoves the chopsticks in and then places the whole carton on the table. The inflictions in her father's voice aren't missed by the redhead and the distinct sense of worry encompasses the young adult.
Huruma steps into the door frame when he opens up his little world for her. She smiles at him as she steps past and just inside. With the heavy coat hanging on her, Huruma seems to be otherwise all legs and a bust of dark complexion. On her flat feet, she would be just around Delia's father's height; in this case, the boots make it so she practically brushes the doorframe. The fact that she came inside with Ryans knowing she is here- that is one thing that should strike notable for him. If she were planning on making a mess of anything, chances are that she'd have done so already.
"Hello, Delia." The woman's voice seems to play at saying the girl's name, and now that she is closer, she fixes the ginger girl with her pale eyes for a passing moment of study. "You say tha'as if he is not weird already…" Huruma peers over to Ryans, her volume at an affectionate purr, and one hand flicking back the coat's rim to sit angled on a curved hip.
"Only learned about her working at Old Lucy's recently." Ryans admits, slowly closing the door behind Huruma. His voice doesn't hold any real emotion, he's closed down, even though the dark woman can feel it all. She makes him uncomfortable, but then even though the scar faded with the turning back of the clock, his shoulder still twinges now and then in memory.
A flat look is given to Huruma, as he settles back into his chair, Ryans clearly doesn't see himself as weird. "Calling the kettle black?" He asks mildly to the exotic woman, brows lift slightly. He glances at the boxes on the table and picks one up and offers it to her. "Beef and broccoli?" At least he can polite, despite the past.
Delia was taking a drink as Benjamin makes his pot comment and she chokes, nearly spitting the entire contents of her mouth onto her poor father. Luckily her other hand was free and she managed to catch the spray before it went anywhere. She coughs for a little while before wiping her hand on her pants and clearing her throat.
"Dad!" she admonishes, turning to give another rather fearful look toward the giant woman close by. "Uhm… I mean.. uh… So, you sold paper too?" Graceful recovery on the ginger girl's part, most definitely.
In a vague effort to reassure him she is not here to misbehave, there is a short span of time where she even shows her back to him- in the guise of peering around at the room to supposedly get a good look. She glances over her shoulder at his touche, a smile growing on her face as she bumps the coat off to place it somewhere aside. "Don'mind if I do. S'hard t'find a place that is open." The woman takes the back of the third chair at the table, slipping down into it and moving her shadowy presence into the dinner date. She sits almost sidelong, one leg over the other just to the side. Delia simply gets another smile, her hand taking the box that Benjamin offers up.
"Didn'sell. I was a customer." Hmhmm.
Brows lift a bit at her assessment of their past, a small tic of a smile. Yes, he finds that amusing. "Customer sounds about right." Blue eyes shift from watching Huruma, to look at his youngest, "She didn't like what I was selling, however." Course, what's not to like about paper. "She wasn't interested in wholesale I guess. One of the few to turn my sale pitch down."
He almost looks relaxed as he plucks the box of food he was eating from the table, the amazon knows better. It's an act to calm his youngest. "Actually, Huruma… I'm glad you stopped by." That must sound odd. "I 'lost' your number." He gives her a look, obviously the caution is still there. "I wanted to discuss a few things with you later, so don't let me forget to get it."
The looks the two of them receive is rather dubious. "Customer… riiiiiiight," she says, no sarcasm there. Her eyes narrow just a little as she examines the tall woman as though sizing her up. "Do you usually visit your old paper salesmen? What do you do now? Are you a bartender?" The rapid succession of questions seem to beat around the bush until finally the young woman comes right out with it. "Are you dating my dad?"
Then she goes extremely silent, staring between the two older adults as though she was the parent and giving the twenty questions on their first date. The can of pop in her hand is swirled around slowly as she watches them.
Knees crossed, Huruma slings the elbow holding the box over the back corner of the chair, fingers nudging up a pair of the cheap wooden chopsticks into her hand and prying them apart. It seems like she is quite deft at using them as well. Naturally, she goes for a snippet of beef first, carefully eating it while listening to the father speak to his daughter. At least she has manners in not wolfing something down. Not here, anyway. Her smile cracks wide again, after a second of brushing over her teeth with her tongue. Sales Pitch. Hah.
As for the number- "Of course." You see? If you ask her nicely for something, chances are that she will appreciate the gesture of going to her firs-
A tree trunk of broccoli snips between her teeth in response to Delia, white eyes shifting to direct the droplets of pupils towards Benjamin. Huruma is more interested in what he's going to say than anything she could possibly come up with.
Ryans doesn't exactly choke on his food, but there is a slight crease of his brow. The empath feels it all, the complete udder stop of all thought in shock. There is a heart beat to two before he finally regains his composure. "Delia." There is a sharpness to his tone, even those the words are calm.
"Be nice. She is only someone I knew a while back." A glance goes to Huruma, looking for a little back up, before giving Delia the full weight of the old man's gaze. "Last thing I need you to do is ask every woman who knows me, if we are dating. You know I'm not." The chopstick find a target, and he lifts it from the box. "You know I loved your mother."
"I am being nice, she works with Lulu and she's been trying to set you up with everything that moves." It seems that even though the youngest inherited her looks from her mother, she certainly earned her expressions from her father. The stubborn set to her jaw is telltale enough that Delia isn't backing down, even under that stern glare.
Then Delia smiles toward Huruma, it's not a cold smile, but it's not overly friendly either. "Not that you're everything that moves… Just that you know Lu and she's hellbent on making Daddy happy. That way." An involuntary shudder courses up the redhead's spine and after it's over, she takes another drink of her pop. "So, you were an almost paper customer that's visiting my dad now. Ever meet my mom?"
Huruma is left to snort lightly and purse her lips to keep from laughing. Ryans looks over for some sort of leverage on her end, but the woman keeps silent, though her expression is full of mirth threatening to boil over. She smiles back at Delia, and her own is far less reserved. A smile like Alice's Cheshire, and a deep-throated little laugh. "Tha'mus'be why she was chatting up th'flock of cougars and MILFs not long b'fore we closed f'th'winter…" Oh look, Huruma knows some shiny slang terms.
"Never. I am sure your father will agree when I say 'thank goodness for that', mm?"
"She is not trying to set me up with everything that moves." There is actually some exasperation in the senior agents tone. "If she is, I have not been made…" A brief pause as Ryans stumbles to a stop. "Well… that explains the calls." He murmurs before taking another bite, his thoughts going to the fact he'll have to have a talk with his oldest about trying to 'hook him up'. After Huruma's statement, the senior agent definitely thinks a talk with Lu is in order.
There is a small sigh as he gives Huruma an apologetic look, that clearly says 'Kids… go figure.' When it comes to his now deceased wife… "Amen to that." He agrees with the dark exotic woman, knowing full well the meaning, especially what she did to her own kids. His eyes flicker over to Delia, and gives her a small hint of a smile. "They wouldn't have gotten along."
"Is so, she talks about it all the time." Delia grumbles as she sweeps the container of noodles off the table and begins angrily stabbing at them with her chopsticks. Stirring them around for a little while, she pulls a small string of chicken from the depths of the box and stuffs it into her mouth. After a few deep breaths, she calms somewhat though her mood is tending toward monotony than anything else.
"Whaddya do at the bar? Are you a bartender? You never answered." She's actually not quite sure what goes on in the establishment though she's clearly amused about something. "You could be like Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse… that'd be kind of cool." Taking another thoughtful bite of the noodles, the young woman seems rather satisfied at the answers she's been given thus far.
"Not back when I firs'met your father, in any case." Who knows what would have happened now. Huruma takes a moment to eat another couple bites of the food she was so graciously offered. "Bouncer." She seems somewhat entertained by the Roadhouse reference. "That is actually very accurate." There's a fleeting thought as she considers the conversation, and the woman lifts an arm to reach into the back pocket of her dark pants. Huruma isn't much for wallets except to hold money with- at least, she wasn't before. It seems to be one of those thin ones that fold flat, and as she flicks it open it is actually large enough to hold bills. Though, what she removes is certainly not. A piece of laminate- a picture paper- which she offers across the edge of the table towards Ryans. Peace offering, of sorts.
"That is m'son. And, his son." Dajan, stooped, with his scarred arm around Badrani, and his missing arm at the boy's side. They've both got the same exotic features as she does, though Dajan's are obviously and heavily warped by the thick scars all over his body.
When the picture is offers over, Ryans glances at the tall woman at first. Brows lift again slowly, as his blue gaze drops to the picture. The food is sets down after a moment of hesitation, teeth still grinding at a mouthful, when he takes the picture from her.
There is no hiding that look of surprise, he looks up at Huruma, brows furrowing. "I thought…" A sideways glance goes to his daughter and he doesn't finish that thought, instead he looks at the photo again. It's hard to fathom, his former target a granma. He finally offers the photo back to her. "A strong son… and a fine looking grandson." He rumbles politely, then something occurs to him.
"Isn't that the man that is working to reform Madagascar?" See, Ryans does keep up with the news! "He's yours?" There is disbelief in his tone.
Picking quietly at her noodles, Delia glances toward the picture rather curiously but as it's a distance away, she resigns herself to her food. "You though' wha'?" She asks, her mouth half full of food. It's impolite but it's her dad and she wants to know!
When he asks about Madagascar, that's when Delia actually gets up from her seat to lean over and peer closer at the picture. She blinks in surprise and can't help but stare at the multitude of scars. Not out of disgust but actual medical curiosity.
"Whoah… those are some scars. You know what guage of thread they used to stitch those up?" She bends even closer and lifts one hand to hold the other side of the picture, without invitation. Her eyes flit curiously over every one of them. "I bet they had to pack and staple some of those… Wow, that is impressive work."
Huruma smiles. It is not that toothy smile, nor one hiding a laugh. It is the sort of expression that Mary may have gotten when someone complimented how cute or smart her little girls were, or how lovely her family was. A real smile. "I though'th'same." She amends, her voice slightly forlorn for that first part, and she gives Delia a cat=like, slow blink, deciding to say nothing. "He is th'same man, yes. I was there, helping him. On accident, quite- until tha'day in December, I b'lieved him dead. Tha'was taken a week or so afte'he helped take Antananarivo." She is duly preening, sitting there upright and with that expression of mixed serenity and pride.
"His name is Dajan. My grandson's name is Badrani. Dajan is around twenty-four now, Badrani is six." A beat's pause. "He calls me Nana." Huruma informs Benjamin, tilting her chin up. There is one clear thing being made an example of here. Huruma is not quite the same person that he thought he knew.
And the slightly crooked smile he has on his face, as he watches Huruma preen, says that Ryans is noticing this. "So you are a grandmother?" There is no tease in that question, a simple impressed one. "Then congratulations to you for that and finding your son. Only the son? He had a twin if I remember right."
For a customer, Ryans knows a lot about the mysterious amazonian woman. He still watches Huruma as he leans back in his chair, a box of orange chicken in his hands.
Delia settles back into her chair, since she was duly ignored by both the woman and her father. She tried to compliment, she was being nice like he requested. So with a little huff, she digs through the noodles before putting them back on the table and picking out a different carton.
It's an impressive pick, dry ribs, one of her favorites. Plucking the lemon from the top she holds it between two fingers and gives it a good squeeze. "Congratulations on finding your son," the young woman echoes as well. Placing her chopsticks on the table, she rummages through the little carton with her bare fingers. Apparently, she's not big on sharing this one.
"He put his sister somewhere safe. A home." What 'home' means here almost means what it means over there. "Missionaries." Huruma seems vaguely bitter about the mention of her daughter. "Juwariya is worse than I was, an'she has-" The woman pauses, leaning forward to return the picture to where it had come from. She then motions vaguely at her temple. "Incapabilities." It wasn't that she wasn't able to address Delia- it is that she did not want to talk about Dajan's scars. She's the one that put them there.
"It was quite th'task t'get him t'even trust me. And at first I didn'want t'think he was real." She is glad she did, in the end. It led to far more than just his trust.
"Ahh…" Is said softly as Ryans realizes it is a sore subject. "My apologies for bringing up something like that." He even looks apologetic as he says those words. The senior agent glances at his youngest out of the corner of his eyes, thankful he hasn't had to deal with such things. He ended up with two healthy girls… mentally stable is another thing.
"That aside, it is good news about your son and you should/ be proud of what he has done." Ryans sets the box of food on the table. He is almost tempted to ask a question about if Dajan is like his mother, but another glance at Delia stops the question. Not a good idea to out the empath in front of some one who doesn't like their kind.
"He looks pretty tall, is he tall like you?" Delia, on the other hand, is not afraid of outing the giant woman at all. Tilting the carton toward the other two, she does the polite thing and offers them both some of the dry ribs before she inhales another five or six. "Are you from Madagascar? What brought you to the United States? How long have you been here?"
The youngest is so full of questions and she fires them off in rapid succession, allowing no room to answer one at a time. Then begins the fun part of the Q&A, the speculation. "I bet he's huge, must be at least seven feet tall. I bet your grandson is going to be someone spectacular too. Things like that run in the family. I'm pretty tall," Not nearly as tall as her father or Huruma, comparitively she feels like a midget, "and Lulu's short compared to me. I think she gets it from mom."
Huruma can feel his indecisiveness, and so she ponders on its meaning a moment while she responds. "I am very, very proud of him." She smiles again, prying at some of the saucy broccoli with the pair of chopsticks. "He an'his men freed an entire nation. I woul'be silly if I were not proud of that. He has the presence t'be able t'do great things." Hopefully, he does. Huruma is meanwhile bombarded with innocent questions, and she crooks her lips up at Delia.
"I make them big, yes. Dajan is rather like y'father, though heavier." Denser, really. "M'grandmother is very small. M'family was relatively normal, but I left long b'fore m'big brother stopped growing." This could mean quite a few things, but Huruma is not too specific. "I am from Kenya. My children were born in Nigeria, an'Dajan relocated t'be with his late wife." It's all very factual. But she does not tell Delia why she is in the country, or for how long. If the girl wants to press, she'll answer- but otherwise it is not something she thinks to address.
Benjamin probably hopes his girls socialize like this, with new people- just perhaps not this one. Not especially. Whoops.
For the moment Ryans seems content to listen to the conversation, gaze turning to the dark world beyond, the people in the room reflected in the reflective surface. Eyes land on the tall woman for a moment, thoughtful. They had both changed so much since that time, once pitted against each other, now both sitting at the same table talking about families.
The thought draws Benjamin's brows down into the thoughtful furrow. Gael didn't think he was getting soft, but Ryans sure felt like it. He had plans to ask her for her assistance in finding Luke… to actually trust her.
It was all kind of surreal.
Delia is finally getting animated with her father's visitor, smiling and talking in earnest rather than with the swell of fear that she'd felt when first seeing the woman. "Kenya?! Seriously? Oh man… I heard they have some really neat stuff over there. I saw some pictures, when I become a doctor I'm going to join Oxfam and go somewhere in Africa to help out. I could probably go now, but I'd have to put school on hold and I wouldn't be as useful or anything." She tilts her little take out carton toward the woman again and this time it's over half empty. The young redhead has certainly been digging into the ribs.
"Is that why you came to the United States? To go to school or something? I don't think I could live so far away from my dad… Maybe Lulu, but not dad." She gives a brilliant white smile to the exotic woman before taking a few more ribs into her fingers and popping them into her mouth one by one.
Huruma hasn't forgotten what happened between them years ago; she has chosen to ignore it in favor of what happens between them now that they have matured and tempered themselves out into what they are. It is so different that to her- what happened before is hardly different from a rambunctious sibling rivalry. Only with more blood loss and less blood relation. Huruma catches his gaze when it lands, peering quietly back at him when his brow knots up.
Luckily, Huruma is fine with the box she had been given, letting Delia wolf away at those take out ribs. White eyes move towards the girl with a soft blink of heavy lashes. "No. I really just- ended up here. I never finished high school. Even then, I'ad only been going b'cause th'mission boarding school were making an effort to wrangle street rats." Oh.
"I got my GED." Ryans offers up softly, his attention turning back to the two woman. "I went into the Navy at seventeen, my mother had to sign the paperwork that would allow me to join up that early. So I had to get my GED to make up for missing that last year of high school." He's probably never told Delia about that. A foot is brought up to rest sideways on his knee, arms crossing over his chest.
"I had once planned to go to college, however… I found a good job in the paper business." A knowing glance goes to Huruma, Ryans gives her a ghost of a smile. "Delia is doing what I should have done…" Namely go to college.
Jaw drop. Eyes wide. The expression of complete surprise and the sudden blank of emotion and then the chaos of conflicting commences. "Seriously?! Dad? I didn't know that!! Next you're going to tell me that you really weren't a paper salesman and you were a secret drug lord or pimp or something!" A quick glance is given to Huruma and Delia's pale Irish skin turns a brilliant shade of red. "Uhm.. not pimp… uhm.. Uhhh…" She's definitely backpeddling, "Uhm.. I don't mean that you.. hire hookers from pimps.. because you were a customer…"
Completely mortified now, Delia just quiets and resumes eating her ribs.
"You wouldn'ave gone t'school in Lagos either." Huruma ticks her chopsticks at the pair, apparently not too surprised at his news. Delia is, however. It makes Huruma cock her head and smirk to herself. As for her father being a pimp or a drug lord- it bubbles a short laugh from Huruma. "You woul'be surprised, Delia." The woman drawls, promptly biting down on something as to keep herself from elaboration. Wait, what?
"I could'ave done anything I wanted if I had not been born where I was. They talk about rising from obscurity. Honestly, it is easier said than done. Now, I do anything I want t'do anyway, an'sticklers are none th'wiser."
Huruma gets to hear one of those rare laughs from the old man, Ryans shakes his head at his youngest. "I rode a 50's Harley and had a mohawk before they were cool kiddo." And yes… back then, mohawks were around. "Your granma was beside herself dealing with me. She thought the Navy would be the best place for me.
"And it was. Straightened me out." And helped to make him what he is today, namely a perfect agent for the Company. As Huruma nearly slips up, his gaze snapping over the tall woman, eyes narrowing some.
Benjamin is treated to one of those wide eyed stares from his daughter and she slowly puts the carton down on the table. "You." She begins, managing to keep her voice very calm and collected. "You had a mohawk and rode a Harley and you wouldn't even let me go to the Quagga concert when I was 17?" Her jaw tenses and she purses her lips into a very tight line.
"That's so unfair!! It was their farewell tour too! Oh man… I'm totally telling you no next time I want to date someone that you don't think is good enough." Yes, she can be stubborn too.
It is Huruma's turn to laugh, her usual deep-throated noise; she looks to be between aghast and just purely amused by the revelation of Benjamin Ryans with a mohawk. "You had a what?" The dark woman shakes her head a few times to herself, allowing Delia the floor. She is glad that she came to bother him now- Delia is not much like Lucille, except for the fact they are their father's daughters. This is entertainment enough- who needs media?
"No it is perfectly fair." Ryans points out, not backing down from the look she gives him. "I learned from my mistakes, Lia, and strove to make sure you didn't do the same." A finger points at his daughter, as he gives her an accusing look. "And I believe you had school finals to study for and that is why I said no."
"I know… shocking." Ryans says to Huruma with a small smile. "Even I look back and can not believe that it was me."
"It was their farewell concert! That's a little more important than finals." The words are spilt out before Delia actually thinks about them and then she pauses. "Well… fine but I'm still going to date the next person you say no to. Because it's not fair." Not that she actually ever dates anyway but the threat is there.
She gives another smile to Huruma and dips her hand into the white carton to get a few more ribs, popping them into her mouth one by one. "Yeah, I can't believe it either…" Turning back to Ben, she gives him a stern look and raises her eyebrows, "Did you smoke weed too?"
"You did travel quite a lot…" Huruma peers at Benjamin from over the edge of the white paper box, waiting for his answer. It's fine if she wants to know, it's a good question! Lia's on the ball.
"I did." Ryans nods to Huruma, "for the Navy and Primatech." His gaze shifts to Delia to get her a flat look, "And no… I did not. And your education is more important and I will not argue with you again over it." He reaches over to pluck the box of orange chicken up again. "Now… can we stop with the twenty questions?" Brows lift to his youngest. "And just enjoy the food?"
Ben gets a dubious look, "I bet you did smoke pot… You can't have a mohawk and ride a Harley without smoking something." But she does quiet down concentrating on the rest of her ribs instead of happily chatting with her father's friend. Every once in a while she does catch her father studying the giant goddess and Delia's eyes narrow just before she clears her throat.
"So… Dad… Can you give me a ride back to Lulu's? Or do I get to stay here tonight?"
Huruma glances towards the ginger daughter soon after she asks her father about getting around. Though it is hard to tell if it is for her cough or the actual question. "If it is a ride you need…" She got here somehow, you know. It's not like she disapperates from one location to the next.
"No.." The Agent says a bit sharper then he means too. "I'll give her a ride back to her sisters." It'll take a lot more time for Ryans to trust his own children to a killer… pardon or not.
Trust is a long road.