Sopranos Will Soothe The Savage Beast


dante_icon.gif isabella_icon.gif

Scene Title Sopranos Will Soothe The Savage Beast
Synopsis Dante visits a disciplined Isabella, and succeeds in mollifying her (somewhat) and getting her out of her room for a while.
Date July 7, 2010

Fort Hero

The world has ended for Isabella Dawson. The sun has set, and the acerbic woman is alone in her room, locked and guarded by a medical officer, her only friends the remnants of a McDonald's cheeseburger and the broken porcelain shards of an I <3 Irony mug in the corner. On her table is the crumpled remnant of a paper cup — the kind that holds the suppressor pills.

As for the woman herself, Isa is curled on her bed and swinging the broken handle from the mug in her fingers. She certainly looks ruffled, too. Eyes red and cheeks stained, Isa's been crying, though the stony stare and irritable pout mean she's denying those accusations entirely. And of course, she has a lot on her very upset mind, right now.

There's the whole 'disciplinary probation' thing. The 'has to see a shrink' thing. And must we mention, the 'suddenly being Evolved' thing. The last one, of course, is the biggest hum-dinger; the rest is fairly par for the course in her professional life. But to have the carpet pulled out from under her like that… SLC? In my bloodstream? It's more likely than you think.

At least there are some constants in her life. Dante is one of them, and though her "brother"'s busy schedule still has him off at work for most of the day, he's yet to miss a chance to visit with her.

There's a light knock on the door, and Dante's flat tone calls through it, "Isabella? Can I come in?"

"…Yeah," Isabella calls, voice grating just a little before she clears her throat. The medical attendant unlocks the door and admits Dante, so he can see his rumpled partner and "sister" on the bed toying blankly with the McDonald's wrapper. She looks up at him then, a bit of a harsh look in her eyes. "What?"

Dante ducks his way into the room, pausing briefly just outside the door for a moment, making sure there's nothing about to be thrown his way. He's dressed in his work clothes still, tie loosened and his shirt unbuttoned, with his hands still buried deep in his pockets. He stands just inside the door, glancing back when the attendant closes it behind him before looking back forward to Isabella with a smile. "I'm here to visit," he says simply. Okay, test the water. Careful… Find out first if she's in a biting mood before putting both feet in.

"Oh." Isabella drops the handle on the bed and flops back on the pillows she's propped up, arms folding over her chest. "Well, you get to visit me lots more now that I'm on vacation," she growls, kicking one ankle over the other. Though her tone is biting, it's clear a lot of the bite has gone out of her for tonight. She seems tired. Maybe even morose. "I'm on probation." Let's dance around the subject of being Evolved, shall we?

"I heard. It's like the first year you joined the force." Hey, Dante's more than happy to avoid the question of her being Evolved. Best to let /that/ freakout come out on its own. He slips slowly out of his trenchcoat, draping it over the back of one of the chairs. Grunting a little (he's still sore from sparring practice), he takes a seat at the foot of the bed, lacing his fingers and glancing sideways to Isabella. "At least it's just a week this time."

"Don't remind me," Isabella mutters. One hand scrubs at her cheeks a bit, and then runs into her hair to start sorting out tangles. Knees lifted, she seems rather withdrawn for the moment, something she, frankly, rarely is. And she's quiet for a good long time as she sorts out her hair, but he can tell she's thinking. And then he knows when she's finally decided what to say. A few moments later, she takes in a soft breath, and makes a disgusted sound. "They're…making me learn," she sneers, lip curling a bit. "How did you…learn?" Oh, and there's the Evolved topic. So much for avoiding it.

Dante drums his fingers together, licking slowly at his lips and letting his gaze drift around the small room. Awkward silences with Isabella? Not something he's used to. He's starting to get more and more fidgety, and begins to reach for his trenchcoat when she speaks up. He blinks up at her, and the question gets a wry smile. "Ah. Well…" Give him a moment to get his thoughts together. Dante slides back farther on the bed, getting comfortable and leaning back against the wall. "It's not easy. Especially if you don't want to be, I hear. I was lucky, because at the time I didn't know what I was. At first, I was a little freaked out." He shrugs mildly. "Until I realized it was just that I'd learned something new about myself. And I'd just have to learn to live with it."

Isabella makes another sound of distaste and hugs her knees to her chest, looking darkly at the blankets. "This isn't a part of me. I tested negative. I'm not some…freak." Dante, of course, is familiar with Isa's double-standards. Somehow when she labels all Evolved 'freaks,' she doesn't mean him. "I don't want to have to live with it. I'm not some… some hemokinetic freakfest! It's all Stack's fault, I know it!"

And yet… she lacks conviction. Crowley popped that bubble earlier. And as much as she hates it, and as much as she loathes it, some part of her mind knows this is inescapable. Genetic. She's spent enough time hating Evolved to know she can't make them change back to normal people.

Familiar, used to, and over it. Dante doesn't even bat an eye at her comment. He smiles consolingly, just letting her work through her frustrations for now. He rests a hand carefully against her knee. "No, you're not a freak." And…that's about all he has. For now.

Isa's eyes snap to Dante's, staring for a few long moments, before her nose wrinkles and she huffs. "That's what I said," she replies, pressing her lips into a line. "They don't believe me. But… Anyways. I'm supposed to go 'soak up the sun.' Where the hell am I going to soak up the sun?"

"I know," Dante says patiently, "I'm agreeing with you." But he pulls his hand away, lacing fingers in his lap again. "Hmmm…could go up on the roof. How far away are you allowed to wander?"

Isabella sighs. "As far as I'm aware, wherever I want, so long as I show up for psych appointments with Dr. Richards." Hmph. As if she needs psych appointments. "I just want this over and done with."

"Ah, well. Let's get you out and about then, hmm? We can go to Central Park." Dante smiles as charmingly as he can manage, which isn't much at all. "I'll buy you a sno cone." And if they're lucky, they can find some litterers for her to verbally abuse. That should help her feel better, and hopefully he'll be able to tell if she's about to use her power again. …hmm, actually… "Or maybe we can take in a movie."

"Uh, yeah, that's not what I'd call getting sun," Isabella snaps. But either way she grabs a pillow from behind her and hugs it irritably. Hmph. "Fine, we can hit Central Park, or whatever." She's quiet again for a few moments, before she looks at him a bit more docilely. A bit. Sort of. "I want takeout. Can you get us takeout? From China Palace."

"It'll at least get you outside," Dante says simply, grabbing his trenchcoat up again. "And yes, we can get takeout. Though before we decide where to go, I got this for you." With no fanfare whatsoever, Dante extracts a box from one of the deep pockets of his coat. The last season of the Sopranos, the one she needs to complete their collection.

"Yeah, okay," Isabella huffs, resigned. She's too tired to be feisty tonight, honestly. It's been a long, frustrating day. Week. Thing. But as he pulls that out, her eyes narrow, looking from the gift to him and back to the gift. Taking the box set, she lets out a huff and eyes him. "You're handling me, aren't you." The lack of accusation in her voice is her way of saying thank you.

A slow smile curves Dante's lips. "You're welcome." Gathering up his trenchcoat, he stands with a sore grunt and slips his coat on before gesturing towards the door. "Ready to go whenever you are. If you'd like to change, do it now, or we can swing by the house. I'm easy."

Jerk. Isabella is at least mollified, and she slides off the bed and looks down at her t-shirt and pants and just throws up her hands. "Whatever, I'm hungry. Let's just go." And so she leads the way, Sopranos in hand as they head out for food.

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