Shipping in Supplies


alia_icon.gif brian_icon.gif darla_icon.gif delilah_icon.gif grace_icon.gif kain_icon.gif kaylee2_icon.gif viviane_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif

Also with an appearance by…


Scene Title Shipping in Supplies
Synopsis Two relief trucks arrive at Summer Meadows with shipments that no one admits to ordering. Those in charge of the goods are subjected to a shell game of 'who's most responsible', while the Ferry takes advantage of the opportunity to abscond with the actual merchandise behind their backs. …Who said the Ferrymen are saints?
Date December 9, 2009

Summer Meadows

The low brickwork walls flanking the entrance to this subdivision pronounce it to be 'S MMER ME DOWS', black metal letters pitted by age and each tilted slightly askew by decades of weather and neglect. The rest of the subdivision echoes this theme — pavement cracked, its lines worn and faded nearly into obscurity; small lawns littered with autumn leaves and dying grass, shrubbery poorly pruned or not trimmed back at all, such flowers as there are in most cases long since grown wild. The buildings are a mix of townhouses, duplexes, and quartered apartments, most of them with paint peeling at the edges, a few boarded over and sporting jagged holes where the windows weren't quite protected enough. Feral dogs slink at the back of the streets; their feline counterparts are less commonly seen, usually visible as no more than a streak of motion disappearing into the bushes or someone's cracked-open garage door. This isn't a neighborhood where people are seen lounging on their porches as the sun sinks low in the sky; to stay out as darkness gathers is to risk unwanted attention, and the consequences thereof.

Winter made its presence decisively known at the end of yesterday: a tradeoff between snow and sleet which finally gave way to cold needles of rain in the early hours. There is no snow on the ground, not after a solid morning of falling water that left asphalt slick-sheened and soft ground little more than puddles of mud. The fog rolled in at noon, but somehow the sky cleared after — there's actually sunshine and blue above now, even if it's still cold and somewhat windy and standing water can be found everywhere.

Only the most stubborn would have kept working through all this… but some did. Raking leaves and clearing gutters so that the waterfall had somewhere to go; someone had to, and these people who don't even live here did it.

Darla was one of them, which is why her curly black hair is less curly now, although it's had enough time in the sun to dry quite well. She's still got a rake in hand, pulling gold and brown leaves onto a tarp and chatting with the guy who's waiting ready to haul the load over to a truck.

Grace is standing by a folded-out table set square in the middle of the road, its surface decorated with heating urns and the most mismatched collection of ceramic mugs you ever did see — but their appearance is less important than what they can be filled with: coffee, tea, and hot chocolate all waiting for those willing to brave the windchill and mud. She's not actually staffing the table — that's someone else's job. The harsh-voiced woman is there to drink her own cup of coffee.

Alia arrives with less noise then usual. Apparently the mud and rain has grounded her skateboard somewhere else. Instead she walks up slowly, a smile on her face after a day of work at the Surech Center. However, she brings with her a cheerful air, and another pair of hands. She walks up towards Grace with a nod, then stops to say something that might seem odd.

"Too early for Holiday Miracles?" The words are full of cheer and perhaps just a touch of mischief.

And who should actually been manning the table of hot drinks? None other than Mr. Muggles and his trusty side-kick Sandra Bennet. With their powers combined, they create hot drink to warm even the coldest and most frozen of people. And by 'they create', really Sandra makes and Mr. Muggles stands there barking out commands. After all, someone has to supervise, don't they? This is a very important task, after all, keeping people warm on cold days. At present, Sandra is just carrying out some more hot drinks with the fluffy little dog at her heel.

Having left her bike under shelter next to the house on which she was last working, Ygraine arrives at the coffee table still bearing signs of her labours. Even with the addition of her biker's jacket to conceal whatever decoration has landed on her body, her boots, hair, thighs and even nose are spattered here and there with grey-blue paint. Hunching her shoulders into the chill of the air, she rubs gloved hands together and offers a cold-lipped smile to Sandra as she approaches the woman. "You must be frozen!", she says, her accent, as usual, distinctly British and educated.

As one of the stubborn ones, Kaylee arrived early with a holiday-colored square box, made by Robin, marked Santa's Letters. She had it secured in a good spot so that the kids of the area could add their letters. Now, after some nasty weather she is probably looking less then great, hair while for the most part dry, hangs straighter still clinging to her neck in some places. She shivers a bit against the chill, as her coat isn't exactly water proof.

Up on a ladder, Kaylee is digging leaves out of the gutter and letting them drop to the ground below so that others can gather them up. "Ug… when was the last time this thing was cleaned out?" She grumbles, wrinkling her nose against the smell of rotting leaves and other questionable things. Silently, she's thankful that she has a good pair of gloves on. "Watch out below." She called to the ground crew below as she send another mass to the ground.

The curves of the black town car that pulls up in the neighborhood glints off the mid afternoon sun, engine purring to a quiet halt a bit away from the workers and the refreshment stand. Door opening with a soft click, the high heel that appears is obviously not there for the real work of other volunteers. It's quickly followed by a graceful movement of the councilwoman out of her car, sunglasses taking up most of Viviane Spollini's face.

After a quiet conference with the driver who does not appear to be getting out of the car, Vivi turns towards the closest person she sees, Darla, and questions in easy tones, "Hello. I am looking for who is in charge of this…" A wave of an Italian leather gloved hand. "Project." Her glasses are removed from her face, a camera-friendly smile flashed as she buries the eyewear in a pocket of her plaid coat.

The squeaking of brakes is heard a distance off as a large black truck slowly rolls over.

The squeaking continues every time the vehicle slows to a stop, until it is finally put in park. Several tiny heads occupy the bed of the truck, all wearing thick ponchos and heavy duty coats. The door of the drivers side is kicked open. The driver sliding out smoothly, flinging the door closed behind him as he walks round the front of the vehicle. A large brown coat is balanced on the shoulders of the driver, wearing a hat that is pulled low to his brow. The young man goes to open the passenger door. A smaller coat-ed package dressed much like the driver is grabbed by the waist and quite carelessly flung out of the vehicle. Most people would be enraged by such thoughtless regard of a child. But it doesn't seem to bother Brian.

Closing the door. Brian smirks after the stumbling Joe. It seems the young mutantesque freak has bought a crew of little freaks to work out. The tiny heavily -clad children quickly flinging themselves out of the back of the vehicle. "I should get that checked out." He murmurs as he looks back to the wheels. He hasn't really looked around at those gathered, and the mass of people who know his face… Though it may be as different people. Oh yay.

There is one poncho more colorful than the others— Delilah's is red, with a duo of yellow flowers on the back. She seems to only have it because it was raining earlier— otherwise she is dry and the hood is falling down off of her head. One, two, three— the girl is out of the truck first to help the smaller kids down.

"Brian! Get your brakes fixed!" Delilah practically caws this out when all the kids are out of the truck, one hand after the other fidgeting with the sleeves under her slicker. "I'll give you money if you need it— but— brakes." Those are important.

Blue eyes turn to regard Alia, and Grace's lips quirk sideways in a subtle smile. "Never too early for miracles," she remarks, grating voice a harsh counterpoint to Brian's squealing brakes. "But if you're asking whether we've had any…" She jerks her chin up slightly. "Only if you count the break in the weather." Her gaze shifts to follow Viviane's progress, assessing the woman's dress and demeanor. Her eyes narrow. "Now, isn't she interesting… in the Chinese sense, no doubt."

Darla flinches from Kaylee's bundle of tossed leaves, which flump down through the air rather perilously close to her face (and get a few stray stragglers stuck in her hair). "Watch out above," the aerokinetic calls back, tone amused rather than offended. Which is good for Kaylee, because — well, aerokinetic. "Hey —" …only whatever she was about to say is derailed by Viviane's entrance. Darla turns to face her, while her companion with the rake gets his expression under control and contrives to look like part of the background scenery.

"In charge?" the aerokinetic echoes, brows raising. "Can't say I'd be sure exactly who best to direct you to — can I ask what your interest is?"

Much as Brian's arrival was heralded by the noise of his truck, so is another — not squealing brakes, but the deep rumble of a large truck. A tractor-trailer, in fact, which might as well be unheardof in this residential neighborhood. Aside from someone moving, but — well, people don't move in bright red tractor-trailers with Target blazoned in very large letters (and a logo!) on the sides.

Alia grins as she finds somewhere to lean, a twinkle in her eye as she spots the truck. She grins even wider as it blows the horn as it approaches… and stops about twenty yards from the gathered volunteers. The engine dies… then there is another rumbling sound…

One truck was unheard of… two of them? Was the island being emptied? Only if the white truck with the big letters of WalMart and Sam's Club on the side suddenly engaged in the moving buisiness. The second trailor parks next to the first, the two drivers looking at each other in mild surprise and astonishment before getting out of the cab to find someone who appears to be 'in charge'.

Distracted from whatever Sandra might have been about to say, Ygraine finds her attention caught by the arrival of the apparent dignitary, and the somewhat more unusual collection of individuals piling out of the truck. As she turns to stare curiously, her ear is caught by an unique voice — and, with a broad smile on her face, she is just about to approach Grace when the second juggernaut makes its presence known. She finds herself joining the ranks of those looking around for anyone who might know what's going on.

Whatever Viviane's first answer was to be is lost as she turns to mark the arrival of the trucks, a slight lift of her eyebrow as she waits for the overly loud engines to cut off. A small clear of her throat before she turns back to Darla, holding out her hand as she introduces herself, "Councilwoman Spollini. I heard about this project from a friend of mine."

"Sorry, Darla." Kaylee calls down with a wince and a sheepish smile, before another more carefully directed mass hits the ground. She starts back into what she's doing til, she hears the squeal of brakes. Turning slightly on the ladder, boots squeaking on the metal. Spotting Brian right off, the blonde telepath lifts a hand to wave at him and the kids.

Of course, the arrival of the bigger trucks makes her stop anything she is doing to watch them, brows lifting high on her head. "Holy…" She doesn't complete the thought, but starts making her way down the ladder, carefully. "Well well…" She murmurs as she drops to the ground near Darla, giving the woman a big smirk. "Out of the woodworks." She says at barely a whisper, looking impressed as the big trucks pull in.

"They're fine. It's just dust." Or something like that. Brian dismisses the thought of actually getting his brakes repaired. He only transports children in it. Come on. No big deal! Brian smirks at Delilah over his shoulder before a few faces start to get his attention. First Kaylee. Haven't seen her in a while. And then Viviane. And then Ygraine. And then back to Delilah. It's like those bad sitcom episodes when a guy walks in to have all his ex-girlfriends in one room. Except none of these women were ever his girlfriend. It's just a similar concept okay. Slightly nervous at the thought that he might be outted for his 'twins', Brian stays near the back of his herd of children.

"Joe. Go get some hot co—" His attention is quickly grabbed by the louder truck rumblings than his own. Hey. :( Looking at the two large trucks, he glances over his shoulder once again, pulling his hat low.

Delilah is herding the kids to-and-fro already, looking the part of a field trip chaperone as she gets them to the side of the road. She even puts her hands on her hips when Brian scoffs at the state of his brakes. "It's not just dust, you probably wore them down to the base— if you don't take it, I'll take it." It's both a threat and a promise to help— but then again she'd have to steal it…! The rumbles of bigger engines take her attention away now. Delilah turns to find the new source of the sound, eyebrows lifting onto her forehead when she has no trouble finding it.

"The hell's going on out here?" Delilah asks whoever is listening, the question half-posed as a laugh.

That is exactly what Kain Zarek would like to know.

The sedan that arrives isn't quite the same showy arrival as he had days prior, in fact that black car doesn't even pull up in front of Summer Meadows, but rather across the street and away from the trucks that had arrived. The car is silent and motionless for a time once it parks, engine turned off and tinted windows giving no clue to the driver's identity. But when that driver's side door opens, someone is getting an earfull on the other end of his phone. "No Ah' don't know a goddamned thing about no delivery! What th' hell d'Ah' pay you for anyway?" All six feet of Italian suit and dirty blonde hair seems rigid in tension, blue eyes leveled at the delivery trucks as if they had just said something untoward about his mother.

"You're suppos'ta be keepin' mah appointments— " He cuts himself off, listening to his secretary on the other end, then flashes another scowl to the trucks. "What th' hell d'you mean y'don't know who arranged for it? Why don' you figure out how hard m'gonna' fire yer ass while yer' lookin' up what the hell Ah'm supposed'ta be doing here today!" The phone is slapped shut angrily, it's the closest thing Kain can manage to strangling someone on the other end.

Looking away from the trucks, he starts to scan the crowd for someone who looks like they know what the hell is going on, why he got called out here, and why these deliveries are even getting made without him knowing ahead of time.

Grace looks sidelong at Alia… and doesn't say anything, just expels breath in a most unladylike snort. Setting her coffee down on the flimsy table, the woman straightens and starts for the two lost- and forlorn-looking truck drivers. "Something I can help you gentlemen with?" she asks, polite phrasing almost masked by the jarring roughness of her voice, in that the gravelly tone registers an impression long before the actual words are extracted from it — never mind their meaning.

Darla looks down at the extended hand; up at the councilwoman's face; then purses her lips and reaches out to complete the handshake. "That doesn't tell me why you're here, Ms. Spollini," she points out with a flicker of a friendly smile. Dark eyes shift to the trucks, the aerokinetic chewing idly on her lower lip. "Or them, for that matter. Kaylee, can you keep Ms. Spollini company for the moment?" Which is to say, keep an eye on Ms. Spollini. "I'm going to find out what's up." At which Darla begins to jog over towards the gathering inquisitive onlookers.

The Target truck driver eyes the Wal-Mart truck driver with a sort of befuddled suspicion — essentially why are you here, or perhaps are you here for the same reason I am. "Umm…" He hesitates a moment, then charges forward on Grace's prompt. I have a delivery for…" He checks the paperwork on the clipboard again, unnecessarily but compulsively. "…a 'Summer Meadows Rebuilding Foundation'. I'm guessing that might mean you people?"

"Is that the exact wording?" Grace asks, gesturing for the clipboard and its papers with the air of expectation that it will be given over. Her other hand waves at the trucks. "What is it you're delivering, anyway?"

Alia has the biggest grin on her face, eyes full of mischief, hands in her jacket pockets. She's likely one of the few people in the crowd who is not wearing some form of shock or awe on her face. She adjusts the headband she was wearing to keep her ears warm, smirking as she motions a couple of the volunteers forward, grabing some planks of wood to use as a makeshift ramp. The sound of two plastic seals to make sure the shipment was intact being opened is heard.

The sunlight shines on the goodies inside. There are blankets, clothes, building supplies, and food items, as well as generators, lights, the things you need to recover from a disaster, even as the drivers and Grace try to figure out who ordered what, and how.

Perhaps fortunately for Brian, Ygraine is distracted from the brown-clad figures and the herd of children by the noisy man directing threats into his phone. She frowns pensively… then after a few moments remembers where she's seen him before. The Linderman Building. Hallowe'en. A mobster costume, some chat-up lines, and the conversation being interrupted when Kain's (possibly-hired) date attacked someone before laying into the man himself. Fancy that, given how nicely he treats people. Shaking her head in mild disbelief, the Briton tries to split her attention between the delivery trucks and the irate PR man.

Viviane drops her hand once the gesture has been complete, pulling at the fingers of her right glove as she looks over the woman addressed as Kaylee. "Pleasure to meet you. How long have you been working on this project?" she asks of the young blonde, her smile still lingering on lips. If the woman is listening, there is a flicker of more than mild curiousity across the politician's mind, calculation as she plots silently what to ask next, in given scenarios.

Oh god… that one is back. That is exactly what goes through Kaylee's mind when she hears Kain in the distance, blue eyes narrowing at him suspiciously. Of course, she isn't given much time to ponder on that Linderman guy, when she's saddled with babysitting the councilwoman. Head turning back to the woman, Kaylee flashes a bright smile. "Of course, Darla… Welcome, Ms. Spollini." Her tone friendly, her mind indeed giving a little skim of those surface thoughts. "For a couple of weeks. Ready for the long haul," she offers, hands tucking into her jacket to warm them up. "So.. what made you decide to come out here? Curiosity? Maybe get your hand into some work to rally future voters?" Her tone turning slightly amused, "Extra hands are always welcome."

"Language, Dee." Says the man who keeps literal tons of weapons and ammunition a story below where children with Evolved abilities sleep. He has priorities straight, for sure. Brian sets one hand on Joe's shoulder as he eyes the participants and then the big trucks and then Delilah again. "Dee, I'm not sure I want the kids to stay here." AKA, I'm not sure I want to be recognized by these people and called out in public. The young man edges back towards the truck, calling out to the kids to stay close.

"Up to you, and whether they think they want to stay- if some of them do I can take them home." Delilah ignores Brian's warning for language, knowing that the kids have been subjected to far worse than a cuss word. They'll live, it's fine. Her eyebrows rise again, however, when some people are already rooting around in the deliveries. "Wow.

"Who sent all this?" Another question for the air, before she glances over towards Darla and then past her, towards where she can see Kain emerge. Her mouth turns into a half-frown. "It wasn't him, was it?" A little part of her hopes not— and it's in her voice.

Making his way towards the trucks, Kain Zarek simply looks out of place here, as much as his face has some notoriety thanks to his position with the Linderman Group, it's more his expensive attire that — mostly — seems unlike the other occupants of this neighborhood of Roosevelt Island, save for perhaps Viviane, even if she is more transient to this area than resident. He doesn't recognize, or perhaps he just doesn't see Ygraine, focus so intent on those delivery trucks that he's moving alongside of.


Blue eyes find Fulk in the crowd the way sharks find blood in the water, and the Linderman Group associate narrows his eyes just a touch on spying the Lighthouse proprieter, then offers a look around the crowd. No real heads or tails is made of anyone, it's hard to tell just who's running the show and who's running in circles. One look at the truck drivers tells Kain that they're just as confused as anyone else.

The sound of the truck doors opening gets instant attention from the drivers. Stepping around from where they had been conferring with Grace, both level nearly identical frowns on the volunteers bold enough to open the doors. "Wait a minute, you—"

"Says right here this is the destination," the raven's voice cuts in, clipboard thrust forward into their field of view. "For both of them," Grace continues, finger tapping against the relevant line of type. She pauses then; her gaze skips across the nearby familiar faces, lands on Ygraine's. "Hey, Ygraine! Can I borrow a second opinion from you?"

Darla watches Grace redirect the attention of the truck drivers; stifles a smirk of her own and slips around the side of the Wal-Mart trailer. She looks at some of the people loitering around — Alia, Brian, Delilah, among others — and waves them up towards the open back of each trailer. Come on, help unload this. Like, now; opportunity's a-wasting. The beginnings of two bucket brigades begin to assemble under her direction.

Alia smiles and nods at Darla as she scrambles up into one of the trucks to start helping unload the freight. She begins to hum "Winter Wonderland" as she works, trying for a infectiously cheerful mood. It might be a long time before anyone figured out how these trucks got here, but as the saying goes, it is unwise to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The drivers, for their part, look half-outraged, and half-bemused, even as they are handed off to Ygraine, trying to figure out just how they eneded up in such a fix.

Startled, but apparently happy to help, Ygraine breaks into a jog, moving easily as if well-used to running — in spite of the boots and heavy jacket. Clomping to a halt beside Grace, she flashes a grin at her — silently pleased to have been remembered — then obligingly peers at the clipboard. "Mmmmm. I'm not used to deliveries on this scale. Mine tend to be rather smaller," she muses in her exotic accent. "Where is it I'm meant to be looking?"

"I do like to know what our citizens are interested in," Viviane agrees with a wry smile of her own at the question of volunteer work. Brown eyes glance down at the expensive wool coat, the Manolo Blahniks. That should be answer enough. "Perhaps you can tell me more about the project and its organizers." What little information she's gathered, mostly from city permits, whispers to the front of her brain as she recalls. As she talks to the younger woman, she sweeps the crowd, gaze momentarily stuttering on Brian with an echoed name tied to her mind. Fox. It only lasts a moment before she's taking further catalog of her surroundings.

"Mmm.." Kaylee states with an amused smirk to the woman, yet she continues to be polite. "Well… The project is pretty simple really.. Fixing up a neighborhood that's been neglected." She almost sounds like she wants to say more, but she continues on with a clearing of her throat, "Our goal is to ease up some of the hardship on these people. If you look around the area you'll see everything from simple landscaping and painting… all the way up to rebuilding portions of houses."

Her tone continues on rather matter of fact, "Everyone here is giving up their free time to help out. We're running purely on donations and get no money for our work." She glances over a house where the family has come out to see what's going on, "With hope, Councilwoman, we'll be rewarded with some heartfelt thank you's from the residents." Eyes flicker back to the politician. "That is pretty much the gist of it."

Yes. He needs to be going. The weird look from that weird guy over there in the Italian suit confirms it. "Yeah. Dee. You keep a couple of the kids. I'll send someone later to pick them up." Most likely himself, but he won't say that. "Joe. In the truck." Brian says quickly, heading around the head of the car again to get himself into the driver's seat and start the vehicle up again.

Whether or not anyone knows who sent it— it is staying here, apparently. Once that much becomes clear, Delilah moves to help with the nearest moving line of supplies from the trucks with a couple of the lighthouse kids in tow, hands in hers until she places them alongside. "I'll see you guys later— and you'll be mad because we had fun and you didn't." The girl on her left giggles. Delilah isn't as savvy to Brian's hitches when it comes to these things— and frankly, she might not care— so all she knows to do now is lead the charge for the kids to be able to help.

"Hey!" Kaylee was hoping for something other than Kain's voice growing louder and sharper in the back of her mind. At the moment, she's the only familiar face that Zarek can make out in the crowd. "Blondie!" He's not here in any official capacity, he can be as crass of as asshole as he'd like to be, at least until cameras are rolling or reporters crawl out of the woodwork. "What the hell's goin' on here?" Sauntering across the sidewalk and up towards where Kaylee is conversing with others, Kain's swagger is sharp and swift, even as he dials a phone number into his cell with one hand.

"Nobody from your little social club went an' told me we'd be doing a public donation today, d'you know how hard it is to get a news crew on such short notice?" Blue eyes dart up to the young blonde, then back down to his phone. "Which one'a you numbskulls put this together an' called m'office?" Someone called Kain? "'Cause either one'a you is gettin' chewed out or Ah'm firin' mah secretary…" His eyes narrow, and he murmurs an addendum, "out of a cannon."

"Actually," Grace says to Ygraine, "it's this 'Foundation' business. I'm not sure any of us could sign off for such a thing, and from what I can see in the rest of it— " She flips through the papers accordingly. "— I think they expect a signature."

"Ma'am— " The Wal-Mart driver reaches for the clipboard, then seems to think better of that idea and retracts his hand. Grace doesn't look like she has any interest in letting go of the forms, and if the drivers ever had any measure of control it's clearly been swept out from under them long since. "There should be a list on page three…"

Having gotten the crew moving along at a self-sustaining pace, Darla clambers around them and back out of the truck. She has an errand to tend to before getting entirely distracted… one which brings her back to the vicinity of Kaylee, Viviane — and Kain. "Hard to get just about anything on short notice, I think," the dark-skinned woman observes mildly. "Except angry words." She jabs a thumb over one shoulder. "Looks like they're trying to work the same sort of mess out. You might see what someone there knows." Darla smiles at Viviane, politesse coming to the fore. "Sorry to leave so abruptly, Ms… Spollini, but obviously we're kinda busy now. Kaylee— " She fishes a manila envelope out of her jacket. "Mouse left this for you. He's so high on Grace's blacklist right now — well, anywhere was better than here, you know how that goes. Seemed like something personal;" you may want to hold on to it 'till later.

It's the ones who aren't telepaths that sometimes surprisingly seem to have a sixth sense; Grace's preoccupation is broken to the extent that she looks past the drivers, towards their friendly neighborhood Linderman Group representative. "Hey, Zarek! Quit harassing the help. You got problems, you — and they," she adds, tipping her head towards the drivers, "— can take them up with Joyce."

Ygraine darts a glance over towards Kain when he demonstrates his usual knack for the subtleties of courteous etiquette, and again when Grace shouts at him, but in between she helpfully flips the papers towards the back and peers at the small print. "It should say somewhere who constitutes an authorised signatory," she muses. "That'd probably help…. Though it's not as if we have a standard corporate structure…."

"This sounds like lovely work, Miss Kaylee," Viviane responds to the younger woman, her easy public smile growing as she gestures. "I think I will inform the rest of the council what I saw here, perhaps work on funding. How close does the group believe you are to finishing, and do you have other projects in mind?"

At Kain's approach, one slender eyebrow raises as she tries to match a name to the face of the man. Finally, Vivi greets, "Mr. Zarek, a pleasure to finally meet you." A pause before she says with a twist of wry smile. "And I rarely find it hard to get a news crew." She brushes back a curl behind her ear before extending the same hand out to Kain with a soft smile. "It is refreshing to see such hard work being put into our city, Ms…" She never did get Darla's name. "I quite understand hectic schedules and situations."

Alia grins as she slips out of the line of the bucket brigade to walk out towards the drivers, smiling as she watches the interesting colission of people, as she picks up a cup of hot cocoa from the table and sips at it slowly, the twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

Brows lift as eyes roll skyward as the man she'd rather stay away gets closer, asking the higher powers to give her strength. Kaylee turns her attention to Kain, giving him a lop sided smile. "Hello Mr. Zarek… Looking.. uh… " Like a punk in a tie? A Sleaze in a Suit? "… professional today." His attitude clearly not affecting her in the slightest. "As for what's going on… Well… I haven't the faintest, I can safely say that we're all about as confused by the delivery as you are." Her voice continues to be pleasant to the crass man, not bad for a young blonde in grungy clothing and a worn leather jacket.

Glancing over her shoulder at the truck, she offers… "I'd say follow the paper trail before you scapegoat your secretary." Spotting Darla's return, Kaylee gives her a thankful look. She is not much for the hoity toity types… maybe bitterness left by her dad. Her brows lift at the envelope and she reaches to take it. "Did he now?" She asks curiously. "I know he wanted to talk to me." She quickly tucks it into her brown jacket for later perusal, even though her curiosity is killing her.

Grace gets a telepathically sent Thank You! from Kaylee as she shouts at Kain, the telepath giving the guy a sweet smile even as she addresses the councilwoman, "I think at the moment it's hard to have a hard-set time frame. We're working on donations and volunteers… which can all be in short supply. But any help is always appreciated."

Snapping at whoever addresses him, Kain is a bit too hasty to wheel around with furrowed brows and a downturned frown to Viviane. "Don't you Mr.Zarek me you b— " His heart lurches up to his throat, brows raise, frown turns into a grimace, and there he may have just barely avoided putting his foot into his mouth with one of Linderman's potential investors for the Corinthian New York. Swallowing back his words with an exasperated sound, Kain offers a shaky hand out to Viviane with a crooked smile. "We— well hello there Ms. Spollini…" He looks like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary, having entirely forgotten about Kaylee as he tries to smooth over the ruffled feathers.

"Ah'm sorry 'bout that, this is all jus' a bit ah— unexpected's all." Blue eyes shift to the side at a familiar voice calling him out. Kain's stare goes wide-eyed when he spots Grace, then a little bit more awkwardly he offers a laugh to her. "W— well, th' paper-trail led straight t'my bank account so…" He tries not to swear, tries so hard not to pitch a cursing fit, "Ah'm jus' try'na figure out who's neck to wr— " his eyes flick back to Viviane and he laughs off the end of that sentence. "What Ah' meant t'say is… Ah… came down here… ta…" Blue eyes sweep around the trucks, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow, one twitching briefly, "check… on mah investment for th' good'a th' people here. Guess Ah' jus' forgot that Ah' made a several hun'red thousan' dollar donation in mah good name…"

See? He just forgot…

You keep right on digging that hole, Kain Zarek. Grace continues to regard him for a moment, then looks past him to Darla, pointing at her in a sharp gesture. The aerokinetic smirks in reply and offers a thumbs-up in response; order received and acknowledged. She'll keep an eye on the sleaze and his suit. And the good councilwoman, too.

"Darla," the woman so named supplies at Viviane's request. "Just Darla." Tasked with the role of monitor, the aerokinetic leaves the actual conversation in Kaylee's obviously-capable hands, and lurks.

The unloading progressing nicely and the official personnel in their fine clothes also handled, Grace turns her attention to the drivers. "If it's his bank accounts paying for this, I bet that nice man over there will sign for it." She smiles, the faint expression bearing a bit more resemblance to a smirk than anything else. "Ygraine, would you make the introductions while I go round up places for all this unexpected largesse to land? And if he gives you any trouble — just let me know."

Ygraine nods to Grace, cracking a lop-sided smile before grinning at the drivers. "That, over there, is Mr Zarek. He's the press and public relations man for the Linderman Group. He works for the guy hosting half the city government at the moment. And he's the one who just laid on all of this delivery, it seems." Handing back the clipboards to the relevant drivers, she starts to usher them towards Zarek. "Do you guys get tipped much, out of curiosity?"

The curve of Viviane's lips seems more amused than angry about the greeting, eyebrow rising a hint higher as brown eyes comb over Kain, perhaps placing the expensive suit by name and season. "That was very generous of you, Mr. Zarek. If I had known of the project before, I would have offered some funding of my own as well." A slight shift of her gaze to Kaylee before the councilwoman points out, "But, perhaps not. After all, I am still waiting to hear from Mr. Linderman. For some reason, I am having the hardest time getting an appointment with the man himself." Her head tilts almost flirtaciously, an encouraging look towards the man known as Kain. "Maybe I will have to pick your brain someday for a tip."

"Darla," Viviane repeats as if to remember the woman, grin flashing as she slips a card out to hand to Darla before she moves off to lurk.

Alia smirks slightly as she sets down the now-empty cup before sliding easily out of the crowd, and the subdivision. She has one more stop to make tonight, and if she stays here much longer, the mischief in her eyes might explode something, metaphorically speaking. She giggles once she is out of earshot of the crowd, and once again goes back to humming "Winter Wonderland"… shame there's no snow to go with it.

A glance goes sideways to Darla at Kain's words, Kaylee's brows lift a little. Interesting. Her arms are crossed over her stomach, though one hand does lift to cover her mouth, as eyes flick form Councilwoman to Kain. It's like… entertainment for the blonde. Her hand slides down to rest on her chin as she nods to Darla, though she's not super happy being stuck playing answer woman.

Hand dropping to her waist again, Kaylee states brightly, "I guess my little social club has you to thank for this Mr. Zarek? I'll make sure it's noted.. that's quite the donation." She gives him a bright smile, "And you'll have to give Mr. Linderman my compliments on the generosity of those in his employ." That said, she take a step to the side to make room for the truck drivers who approach with their clip boards.

Kain looks like a man who was just told his dog died. Having to commit to the atrocity of this donation seems to sit heavy enough on him that is drives his heels into the ground and causes him to stoop just a little, as if it were all physically weighing down on him. "Yeah it— " Kain offers a reluctant smile, "S'all fancy like, in'nit?" Blue eyes leer at Kaylee for a moment, a stare that implies he'd like to back one of the trucks over her before a more polite — even if forced — look is afforded to Viviane.

"Well you know, this was all mostly volunteer work right up until, you know…" Kain waves one hand at the trucks ambiguously; you know. "Sometimes Ah' jus' go a little outta' mah mind when it comes 'round t'the holidays an' all that, right? Ah'm jus' a regular Santa Claus."

Eyeing Grace for a moment, Kain narrows his eyes in speculation, wondering if somehow she had anything to do with this. But it's the approach of the truck drivers and Ygraine that has Kain shaking his head slowly. "Guess Ah' better go find out what all mah hard-earned money jus' bought this place…"

"Tipped?" One of the truck drivers asks back to Ygraine, a smile cracked on his lips. "Honey, we're lucky we get paid our salaries with how the economy is." The trucker notices Kain's swaggered approach, and nods his head towards him. "We ain't wearin' fancy suits like him and driving around in fifty-thousand dollar cars. But you know, it ain't all bad." The driver looks back at the trucks. "Kinda' nice doin' something like this. Makes ya feel like it ain't every man for himself, y'know?"

Ygraine cracks a swift grin at the drivers. "Well, he's the generous man eager to make sure that the whole Linderman Group looks good before as many people as possible, so… today might be a chance to get a little extra for the festive season. Good luck, guys." Backing away as the drivers move to meet Kain, Ygraine figures that now might be a good time to make her own escape before Kain finds people to blame for his unintended generosity….

As the conversation turns to truck drivers and tips, Viviane seems ready to excuse herself as a hand fishes out expensive sunglasses from her coat pocket. They're settled on her face as she offers to Kaylee, "Thank you for your time. Hopefully I'll see your group again soon, after talking to council." Despite the pleasant words and attitude, friendly but not overly so, her thoughts are of another category entirely. Waste of time, floats across it. No way to use this to an advantage. Well, maybe. It's a fleeting thought before Vivi's giving a wave and turning towards her town car with the driver still waiting.

That stare from Kain gets a brighter smile as Kaylee isn't phased at all, in fact, she has to keep from laughing at the idea of him driving that truck over her. Once his attention is shifted, Kaylee offers Viviane a much more sincere smile. "Thank you for coming out, Councilwoman. I do hope you give it some real consideration."

Turn back to Kain, Kaylee starts to move past him and the truck drivers. "If you happen to talk to Mrs. Petrelli. Let her know that Kaylee hopes she's still doing well and that I hope we can chat again sometime." Pulling on the gloves she was using for the gutters, she tugs them on. "Now… I have real work to do." Her voice continues to be pleasant, "Good day to you, Mr. Zarek." And the Lindergoon gets her back as she heads back for her ladder, humming a little christmas jingle.

As the truck drivers come over, Kain tucks his hands into his pockets and slouches his shoulders, offering a rueful look over to Kaylee and then a sullen frown to the two men looking not only for instructions, but also handouts in the good name of the Linderman Group. Kain withdraws one hand from his wallet, pulling it open before sliding out a pair of twenty dollars bills — the last money in his wallet — and offering them out between pinched fingers. "Go ahead…" he mutters, brows lowered and head shaking from side to side.

"May as well make this a proper mugging."

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