Someone Who Knows The Truth


doyle_icon.gif kaylee_icon.gif

Scene Title Someone Who Knows The Truth
Synopsis Kaylee goes to visit Doyle at his new place. While there she learns about his ability, but also gets the name of somone who might be able to tell her about Adam.
Date September 16, 2009

Puppet Theatre (Under Construction)

The sign outside a run-down little building in Bed Stuy - or, as it's more appropriately called, Bedford-Stuyvesant - proclaims it to be the 'Bedford Hip-Hop Dance Studio'. Past the sign, one finds a realty sign tucked into soaped windows, recently overwritten with a sticker reading SOLD.

The unlocked doors lead into a large room with a waxed, scuffed wooden floor and vaulted ceiling, dark in the midst of the day save for the faint light spilling through the soaped-up windows and the overhead lights directed upon the stage. A hammer rests in the hand of Eric Doyle, coming down again and again upon a nail's head as he works at the construction of a wooden framework that takes up much of the stage. The portly puppeteer is dressed in denim coveralls and suspenders, stretching up on his toes to get a piece of wood properly in line with the other as he secures it. More pieces of wood and power tools litter the stage, and there's a fine layer of sawdust everywhere.

She had meant to visit the big guy sooner, but life has a funny thing of keeping one busy. Now that everything was fairly calmed down here Kaylee was quietly slipping into the building. An amused smile on her face, the blonde telepath glances around the building, her boots echoing in the empty space. "Damn Jason.. He really gave you the hook-up."

She has no qualms about the fact she's trespassing on his new digs, as Kaylee walks right up to the stage. A pink box is placed there almost like an offering. "Take a break, tool man. I brought donuts. It's late in the morning.. but technically it's still breakfast time."

The echo of boot-falls in the studio cause the hammer to pause in mid-swing, hovering there in the air above the nail even as the soles of Doyle's own feet ease down to rest flat against the stage's surface. His brow furrows, lips pulling back in a slightly jowly scowl before he turns his head to look back over his shoulder to the blonde.

"Oh," he says in clipped tones, sounding none too thrilled, "It's you. What, did you have someone else to turn me over to?" The fat man steps over to a bit of scaffolding he's set up, laying the hammer down and gathering a kerchief in hand to mop his brow with.

"It's Adam. The moment I asked.. You know?" Kaylee doesn't sound sorry about it. "Come on… He did what you need though." She gives him a pointed look. She turns around, she gives a hop and hauls herself up to sit on the stage. Turning so she can watch him. "I asked.. So I know he used his blood to help." She flips open the lid of the box and studies it's contents, she pucks out a sugar coated donut and takes a bite. "I took a guess on what you might like." She motions at the box. "So? How's the kid. Do you know?"

"The 'kid' is fine," Doyle replies almost reluctantly, dropping the rag back onto the scaffolding after cleaning off his hands as well; stepping over to stand near where she's seated, arms folding over his chest as he watches her for a moment. "You know, I— " He cuts him off, shaking his head tightly in frustration, "Nevermind. Just— nevermind." Knees bend, and he plants a hand to the stage, shifting to swing his legs over the side and reaching into the donut box.

Kaylee just grins at him with a satisfied look as he seats himself, her donut slowly disappearing. "Now.. I coulda asked Adam. But I figured it wouldn't be polite." The last bite of her disappears into her mouth, "But if you were on Level 5.. That means you got something special about you. So…" She gives him a grin, "What do you do?"

"This is just another Level 5, another Moab," is Eric's reply, quiet and bitter as he lets his gaze sweep over the studio, "I just have first choice on decorating options this time, is all." The donut's brought up, and he looks at it for a moment, asking in an enigmatic response to her question, "Do you dance?"

Kaylee considers him for a moment, brows lift a bit at the counter question. "I like to say I'm not bad." She says a touch smug, grinning. She licks the sugar off her fingers and shrugs. "Depends on the type of dancing. Though.. since I started working for Adam, I haven't done much dancing." She wrinkles her nose a bit. "Actually, I don't do much of what I use too." Rubbing her hands on her jeans she asks, "Why?"

A bite of the donut's taken and savoured, Eric's jaw slowly moving as he chews upon the sugar-dusted treat and then sets it carefully into the box beside him. "So what's your big thing, blondie? I'm sure you've got some use, or Adam wouldn't be trailing you about," he notes, not answering her questions yet; reaching back to grip the edge of the stage's framework, he hauls himself up to his feet, swinging his arms a bit to limber them up.

"Me?" Kaylee gives a little shrug, "I'm a telepath." She smirks a bit. "And I know.. 'Stay out of my head'" She gives him a grin, watching him curiously. "I don't make a habit of poking into peoples brains. Kinda rude really. Unless Adam asks me too.. Or you know.. my life is on the line."

"Such a well behaved girl…" A breathless little chuckle stirs upon his lips, and then he waves a hand in her direction, palm down… and then raises it up in a smooth gesture that's echoed by the movement of the girl as the puppeteer draws upon the strings that only he can see. The telepath's body suddenly ceases to respond to her demands, her hand bracing to the stage to push her up, knees gathering under her, then straightening up to her feet— a startlingly intimate violation of personal control, feeling her muscles flex, tense and relax under demands not her own.

Eric Doyle sweeps one arm out wide as if in invitation, the other hand drawing in beckoningly to bring her closer with a jerky step, one foot before the other until she stands before him. His hand clasps to hers, sawdust on his callused fingers, and he moves he take her in a slow, waltz-like spin upon the stage, every step and movement forced to mirror his own, pressed lightly to the man's broad chest and stomach. "I'm a puppeteer, blondie," he observes with a lazy smile from bare inches before her face, both brows arching high and large eyes wide and amused, "I thought I already told you that."

There is a look of confusion and then surprise as she body starts moving on it's own. "What the….? Whoa.. " Hey.. at least she can talk. At first she looks fearful as he moves her, at least until he starts waltzing her around the stage. She gives him an amused look as he takes her for a spin, "So did not tell me about this. I'd remember this." She sounds rather fascinated by the whole thing. "This.. is a cool ability. I sucked at the waltz… or really any ballroom dance." She chuckles as they continue to dance, she doesn't seem to mind so much, "Usefully really…. So you do this and play with real puppets too?"

A little chuckle answers her words as he dances her in a slow circle, then pauses once more near the box of donuts— although the smile fades a bit at the last comment, and he releases her to stand there, turning to step along back over deeper upon the stage without releasing his hold on her movements. A statue, though at least one that can speak. "It's not playing," he replies a bit curtly, "It's— art. Storytelling. Showing people a new and better world than this one. Only the kids care, though, anymore."

She looks startled at the dance abruptly ends and she's left standing there. "Oh.. crap.. sorry." Kaylee says with a grimace. "Bad choice of words." She says softly, watching him move away. A little uncertain about the fact that she still can't move. "Well, nothing wrong about doing that for the kids. I have memories of people coming to my school for shows. Or the fair. Considering how things are now a days, they need an escape from the real word. We make them lose our imaginations.. grow up too fast, they need it." Mentally, she's kicking herself for talking before she speaks. // Note to self… big guy is sensitive.// "Caaann.. I have my body back? Pretty please?" She gives him an innocent look, a nervous smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Then we have this shit-hole of a world crammed down our throats and we're told there's no other choice but to accept it," Doyle replies bitterly, chuckling at the dark irony of it all, his head shaking briefly, "It's really not fair, in the long run. Not fair at all…"

One hand lifts up, sliding over the framework of the puppet theatre being built, and then he looks back over his shoulder, lips twisting in a sly smile, "What if I'm not done with it yet, blondie?"

"No.. it's not. At all." Kaylee agrees whole heartedly, since she's in a sense dying even as she stands there unmoving. She does feel it's unfair. Watching him, she finds herself growing more uneasy, though she does still manage that smirk. "If your planning to use me to help with your building… all you got to do is ask." She states matter of factly. "I do that you know… help." She sighs a bit, which looks weird with her standing stock still. "Well.. did.. Now I spend all my time at Adam's bar. He's got me working double shifts and stuff. Use to go to Staten to help with the soup kitchen.. then he told me not to go over anymore…which is how.. I…. " She realizes she's babbling a bit and stumbles to a stop. Biting her lip, she murmurs. "Sorry."

"As if Adam cares about soup kitchens…" A brush of Doyle's hand through the air is almost dismissive, her knees suddenly buckling as he relinquishes control of her body— she might fall, might not, depending on how fast she is at telling them to stop bending. He steps over to the scaffolding, picking up the hammer again and waving it in her direction, "…the only one Adam cares about is Adam."

Kaylee gives a little oof as she hits her knees, grimacing and knowing they will be bruised. "He keeps me busy to keep me out of trouble." She explains lamely as she pushes back onto her heels and back to her feet. "But I admit I miss it. You know… helping to make someone's life a little better."

She approaches him and tries to snatch the hammer away, with the intent of helping. Her voice lowers as she says softly, "Eric… and I know that's your real name… But I've been respecting your wishes and I will continue to do so. I'll even help you here, but I need something from you." A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, cause she's hoping he likes this little opportunity. "I want to know what you know about Adam." Her head turns a bit so that she can look out over the empty seats briefly. "I could ask him… and I plan too. But I want to hear from the people that are not biased. So when I talk to him.. I know he's telling the truth or not."

"I'm sorry, but apparently if I tell anyone anything about him, he'll have me killed," Doyle replies in dust-dry tones, glancing over his shoulder with a brow arched, chin bobbing in a double-nod, "Oh yeah. That was your fault, by the way." A turn back to the framework, scowling, "I'm not falling for that one twice."

"Shit… " Kaylee says with feeling and then again, "Shit… " She crouches down where she's at and presses fingers to her forehead, covering her face from view. "Damn it, Adam." Her hands drop away to rest on her knees. "My ability doesn't work on him.. I needed to know.. Your the only one that seemed to actually know him from before."

She grimaces and straightens again, pulling a prescription bottle out of her pocket. "Again the things I do, come back to bite me on the ass." Kaylee pops off the lid and fishes out a single pill. As she closes it, she frowns slightly. "Know anyone else that might be able to tell me about him?" She arches a brow at the big guy, before tilting her and taking the pill. Swallowing, she tucks the bottle away again.

"Yeah, well, when all of those things start having the name 'Adam Monroe' on top of them," Eric Doyle replies just a bit fiercely, hands lifting as if to put the name upon a neon sign, "Maybe you should learn something from that. I'm holding to our deal, though, just as long as he leaves me the hell alone like he promised." A bit of dark sarcasm as he chuckles jovially, "You could always ask the Company."

Kaylee gives the puppeteer a flat look. "Yeah… no." There is no humor in her voice and she shakes her head. "Sure fire way to end up where you were. I'm pretty sure." Pressing her lips together she watches him work, her fingers tucking into her pockets. "Is there anyone else?"

She moves to rest her shoulder against the puppet stage so that she can look at him. "There is a chance that learning that information could me the difference between me living.. or dying." The blonde pulls out one bottle of pills and then another, both prescription. Holding them in one hand, she continues, "I'm on pain pills and anti-nausea pills, cause someone is making my body shut down. It's strangling itself and there is a small chance it could be tied to me knowing about Adam." She watches him curiously, leaning a bit closer as she whispers, "I'm not going to ask you to violate your agreement with Adam.. Cause you just want your life.. you want to give kids something to smile about. And I totally respect that. So if there is anyone else you know about that might know, I would appreciate that."

"Somehow, I'm not finding much sympathy to muster, blondie," Doyle replies with a snort of breath, head jerking back briefly from the sound, then something stirs behind his eyes, and he considers her for a long moment, lips pursing in a tight line. "There is… one person. But she wouldn't be easy to find."

"If I was looking for sympathy, Jason, I would have told Adam. Or any one of the people in his gang." Kaylee explains with a tight smile. She tucks the pill bottles away and arches a brow, her blue eyes study him. She nudges herself off the wall of his project and prompts him to continues with a soft, "Who?"

"Her name's Odessa Knutson," Eric offers in quiet tones, leaning in ever so slightly as if in conspiracy, "She was the… medical expert on Level Five, though she's since gone rogue, so she doesn't have the Company's backing anymore. If anyone knows things about Monroe, it'd be her. I haven't the faintest clue where you'd start looking for her, though, blondie."

He hesitates, then wrinkles his nose, "Just don't bring my name up this time, okay? To him, or her. I don't want to get into any more trouble here."

Ducking her head and holding up her hands, Kaylee offers honestly, "I'm won't." She even does the old childish, crossing her heart with a finger, "Cross my heart and hope to die… of course, that last could be sooner then later." Wrinkling her nose, she sighs and crosses her arms under her chest, "Well, a name is a start really. Thank you for that at least."

After a moment of thought she holds out a hand, palm up. "Got a spare hammer? I'm here.. I don't have to be to work for a couple of hours." She gives him a small smile. "Come on.. Let Kaylee help. I owe you anyhow for getting you into this fix." She does seem to feel a touch guilty about that.

"If you do find her," Doyle adds, turning back to the support beam he was shoring up earlier, "Let me know, will you…? And there's a tool box over near the scaffolding, if you really want to. Just don't touch anything I don't tell you do, blondie."

That gets a curious look from the telepath, but then Kaylee gives a little nod and shrugs her shoulders "Um.. sure. If you want. I can do that." She glances at the toolbox and starts that way. "Just tell me what to do.. And we'll get this thing done twice as fast. No reason to make the kids wait."

"Just start building that side to match this one," Doyle says, tilting his head towards a pile of boards, "Use the three-inch nails, and be careful not to splinter the wood or anything, it's expensive." That said, he turns back to hammering, a turn that hides the faint and ominous smile that curves to his lips.

After all, he's just a harmless fat man with a dangerous ability who wants to be left alone. What harm could he do?

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