Participants:
| Scene Title | Southern Hospitatlity |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Adam dons a Southern Accent and gives Meredith an opportunity to work some odd jobs for him. |
| Date | December 9, 2009 |
The weather has been cold and unforgiving for those living in the Big Apple. Wind whistles through the straight avenues, manmade wind tunnels that sometimes blow hard enough to knock people off their feet. Never having been very good at dealing with the cold or the wind in Manhattan, Meredith made a detour on her way back to her safehouse somewhere around Chelsea. It was recently that she had set parts of the streets here on fire in order to escape with Deckard. Pulling the hood of her jacket low over her head, she slides into some nondescript bar. Even though it's growing dark and she doesn't know the area very well, she's sure that no one will mess with her. After ordering a beer of something dark, she slides into a table in the back corner to to thaw out. One beer and then she'll be out of here and back out to where she belongs.
He can be impetuous and careless, but Adam Monroe is also a patient man. He had been watching the pyro quietly from afar for a little while now, getting a good lay of the land so to speak. He even stayed in the bar closest to her safehouse today because he knew she might show up. He had nursed his drinks quietly and slowly and nearly missed her, what with the hood pulled over her head, but he gets a look at her and studies his quarry quietly. He's been able to get some facets of her personality from his study, but he hasn't engaged her yet to have a perfect bead on her yet. Still, he stands from his seat with a drink in hand and walks towards a dart board in the bar. But, unfortunately, on his way by he trips and goes crashing to the ground, his drink falling and making a mess of things, spilling some on Meredith.
To Adam's credit, Meredith never noticed his shadowing. While she had a few times where the hairs on the back of her neck rose, but she never noticed anything that could make her any more paranoid than she normally is. The impossibly old Brit is just another drunk in the bar until he trips and spills his drink on the cold blonde. "Hey!" Standing up out of surprise and anger, she glares at Adam. "Watch where you're fallin'!" A more charitable woman might give the other man a hand up, but all she reaches for is the napkins to start to mop herself up. "You've had too much to drink, buddy." If he turns out to be seriously hurt, she'll move forward to help him out, but for now she just watches him with a frown on her face. The last thing she wants is to be damp in the cold.
"God, no, sorry, I can be so clumsy." he says as he begins to get up, except his accent isn't British, it's pure Georgian. Sort of aristocratic Georgian, too. The kind of people that throw debuttante balls and drink mint julips on impossibly long porches. "I swear, I don't do that all the time. Look, I've made a mess, let me go get a rag from the bartender. And let me buy you a drink for the trouble." he brushes himself off, "Lord knows I owe you that much."
The accent seems spot on to Meredith. She hasn't been to Georgia much, but Adam does sound like a well-to-do Southerner. Why would anyone fake an accent in some random bar just to drop a beer on her? "Yeah, that and a quarter'll get you a phone call." Or at least it would before when there were payphones and cellphones weren't all the rage. She waves a hand at him in some sort of agreement that she's not going to argue with him. "Go ahead, then." She gestures at her own still filled drink and raises an eyebrow at him. "I didn't spill mine all over the floor, but I'll take another if that's the offer." She's going to have to wait a little while longer now before heading out into the cold again and she might as well take a drink to insulate herself for that inevitability.
Adam nods, a sincerely apologetic look on his face, "Alright." he says and makes his way towards the bar. He chats with a bartender a bit and then comes back with a dry dishtowel over his shoulder. He pulls it off his shoulder and looks like he's about to use it and then stops, "Right, sorry, here you go." he pauses, "So, I figured that you wouldn't want your drink to get cold or warm or whatever, so I paid the bartender up and you can just order your drinks." he lifts his hands, "I'm so sorry about all this. First the damned weather and now this, huh?" he rubs the back of his neck with a look of concern on his face.
Even with the apologetic look, Meredith doesn't melt at all the ways he's attempting to make up his mistake to her. Instead, she just keeps blotting at her shirt where beer spilled and frowning. Dropping a damp napkin back onto the table, she just nods at Adam in acknowledgement that she heard him talk. "Well, thanks." It's the polite thing to do when someone buys someone else a beer, even if it's because they spilled theirs all over her. "Still not used to all this damn wind and cold." He's from the South, it sounds like, he should know how she's feeling, right? "Bein' all wet doesn't exactly help the matter." Yes, she's still a little upset about it.
Adam frowns a moment as he considers the jacket, "Well…" he says, "I'm not sure exactly how people handle this sort of thing here. Do you need me to buy you a new jacket?" he questions. There's a bit of a frown of consternation before he says, "Or look, hey, why don't you take my jacket, I mean that out to help?" he pauses and starts taking off his jacket as if it were a natural thing. "I wouldn't know about the wet part, it rains fair in Atlanta, but I know what you mean about the cold."
Meredith slowly just studies Adam for a moment, pausing in her mopping. Buy her a new jacket, just like that? "It's not like you ripped it or anythin'. It'll dry." The last thing she wants is to feel indebted to some random Southerner who spilled a beer on her. Especially when it should be the other way around. "And I don't take jacket's off of random guys at bars. Even if they've got slippery fingers." She holds up a hand to stop him from stripping off any further. "Texas doesn't get much weather other than hot, but rain ain't that bad when it's already 90 degrees out. Never been to Atlanta."
Adam stops taking off his jacket and shrugs it back for a moment, "Well, I just didn't mean anything by it, is all. Just trying to make the situation right as I can." he pauses a moment, "Texas, I've been there, but it's been a few years. A lot of dry heat. Atlanta.." he chuckles as if remembering something affectionately, "Atlanta can get sticky, you know? I mean, sometimes rain will cool off a 90 degree day, sometimes it'll just push it all right in your face."
Adam has reconnected.
"Never said you did." With a shrug, Meredith just tosses the last of the napkins onto the table and picks up her pint glass. Taking a long drink from it, she listens to him a moment, thinking back to her own life in Texas. "No need to get all bent out of shape over it all. You bought me a drink to make up for the one you spilled all over the place. Seems to be fine by me." His over polite-ness has made her feel a little awkward. "Seems like that here, too. Can't just stay hot, it's gotta be all suffocating, too. Can't tell if I'd like it to be summer or winter, here. They both've got their problems."
Adam nods a tad wistfully, "Yeah…I don't know, I think it's all the buildings and people. You get them all pushed into a small space and it's just.." he shakes his head. "You know what I miss?" he questions, "I miss the space. There's no space here in New York. Everywhere you go, you're squeezed into a space. I miss the room to move around. To be on my own sometimes, you know? Driving with no particular destination."
Back in Texas, Meredith lived in a trailer. However, it's true, she had space to move around in. She wasn't living above a Vietnamese restaurant and worried about her every move. "Texas is all about the space. Everything's bigger there, case you hadn't heard." For the first time, Meredith gives him something of a smirk. "Haven't driven anywhere in years." What's the need in Manhattan? Wrapping her hands around her drink, she turns the bottom of the glass in it's own circle. "What made you move up here, then? Or are you just passin' through?" Not that she can imagine many people just coming to town just to sight see.
Adam considers the question, "A bit of both, actually. It's business really, but I don't just work here." he tilts his head to the side, "But, you know, despite the weather and the squeezed people, you have to go where the business is. Why'd you come up here? New York's a fair bit away from Texas in more ways than one." he pauses, "I mean, I'm sure you could get knocked into guys down south as easily as you could here."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Meredith gives Adam a skeptical look. "'Not just work here'?" Maybe it's family, a girl, a boy, something else entirely, but the phrasing has raised her curiosity. After another quick drink, she shrugs her shoulders again. "Few things. All of 'em seemed to take me away from the Lone Star and up to where it's too cold to think. Hell, if this were the South, guys would knock themselves over before they fell on a lady. That I certainly miss, the whole gentleman thing." And, no, she didn't forget to say 'present company excluded'.
Adam considers a moment, "I mean, I have to travel all over the country. All over the world, really." he says in response, "Although, mostly I stay in North America. You know, fly here, fly there. Though lately most of that means staying here." he pauses, "Not my favorite place to be, especially with all the violence and such, but.." he shrugs, "What can you do." he considers Meredith a moment, "None of those things could have a drink with you tonight?"
"Nice work if you can get it." Meredith doesn't exactly sound impressed, but the idea of being mobile and traveling around the world is a welcome idea. She's been pinned down to one place for what feels like too long for a woman who travels a fair bit around the country herself. "Doesn't sound all that different from how people thought of New York before." She remembers all the studies on how dangerous this city was even before the explosion. The consideration is taken with a raised eyebrow. "Apparently not. Jet setters drink alone, too, I guess."
Adam nods, "I suppose it's true, it can be nice work. But it has its good parts and its bad parts, like anything else." his head tilts to the left for a moment. At the mention of New York before, his eyes squint a little, "I suppose it's always been a bit dangerous. Dunno that I think it's been this dangerous. Military moving in, a whole island sort of forgotten." he shrugs a shoulder, "Violent, sure. Warzone? I dunno." he pauses a moment, "I suppose so. Although, I'm not sure I'd call myself a jet setter. Might as well just be a traveling salesman. Nothing glamorous about what I do." he pauses, "You mind if I sit?" he questions.
"Honestly, I was never in New York before it all went down." She mainly stayed in small towns and kept off the radar as best she could. The Company was after her for so long she didn't want to be in any big city where there could be a concentration of Agents. "Salesman? What d'ya sell?" Meredith can't help but think vacuum cleaners and make up boxes, like on TV. At the question to sit, she shrugs and nods over at the chair. He bought her a drink, even if he also spilled one on her. "Might as well."
Adam settles into the chair and leans back a moment, "Well, I didn't say that I was a salesman. Just that I should be one. I'm more of a negotiator. I go places, figure out what needs to be done at a location and.." he moves his hand forward like you might a plane, "Off I go." he pauses lightly for a moment, "My name's Abrahm Ross." he says, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Now that Adam and Meredith are mostly on the same level, Meredith adjusts her own gaze so that they're on even eye level again. "Sounds like you're selling something, at least. That you can fix things better'n other people can." As the introductions are passed about, she pauses before adding her own. Maybe she should give a fake name, but she has never really been one for that sort of thing. "Meredith Gordon. Thanks for the beer."
Adam chuckles a moment, "Of a sort, I suppose." he says in response, "Or maybe I just do the dirty work others don't want to admit needs to be done." he shrugs, "But I suppose I'm just waxing poetic." he nods, "Good to meet you, Ms. Gordon." he considers a moment, "What do you do for work, Ms. Gordon?" he asks.
"Seems like everyone does the dirty work for someone else. Unless you're at the top, and then you just get to make other people do the dirty work." A simple outlook, perhaps, but not too far from the truth. "Odd jobs, mostly." Meredith shrugs. "Work I can find here and there. I like to make my own hours."
Adam smiles a bit, "Well, that's nice work if you can get it." he returns. He leans back for a moment, "Although, I'm not sure I agree with you. Everyone's got to do someone else's dirty business, even at the top. The only thing that changes is the pay grade." he says thoughtfully, "There's always someone behind someone." he shakes his head, "But I suppose that's a bit cynical, isn't it?" he pauses, "Any chance you wouldn't mind telling me what kind of work you look for here and there? I'm just curious. The range of work when people say that sort of thing is pretty varied."
"Ha. I certainly wouldn't mind getting my hands dirty for what some people get paid." Meredith gives an almost amused smile in Adam's direction at his quip. The two may have a different view on the ups and downs of the corporate world, but that's not really a cause to stop talking to each other. "Well, that's the thing, it varies. Mostly whatever I can get my hands on. I've helped out at churches, behind a few shop counters, deliveries." Mostly, what Meredith does is help out the Ferrymen and keep her safehouse secured and well stocked, but she needs to get some money from some place. "Must be the same for you, different things need fixin'."
Adam smiles a bit and nods, "It's true, I suppose. The dirty work might not change, but the pay grade often does." he watches Meredith quietly for some moments, "Well, I suppose that is a bit varied." as for what he does, he nods, "Yes, situations change, the people change, I suppose the…drive?" he pauses as if he considers if he's used the right word, "Might change, but I suppose the process tends to remain the same." he considers Meredith for a few moments, "You know, I often find that I or the people I work for need odd jobs done sometimes. And, I still feel like I owe you. If it wouldn't be too forward, I could pass along your name if you want. Can't promise you the jobs would be any more exciting…but the pay grade might be better. But, it's up to you."
Whatever it is that takes people to the top of the ladder, Meredith would certainly use the word 'drive' to describe it. "I imagine a lot of ass kissing is involved with the driving, as well." Maybe that's why Meredith is still doing menial tasks and there are other very rich people out there. As for the job offer, the blonde thinks it through. Using a long drink of her beer - finishing off her first glass - as a distraction to think over the pluses and minuses of seriously considering a random offer from the guy at a bar, she studies him. Naturally suspicious, she can't help but say, "You don't have to give me a job 'cause you spilled a beer on me. Why do you think I'd be any good at even the basics of what you do?"
Adam considers the question, "Well, I'm not actually offering you a job. Not outright. I'm saying sometimes odd jobs need to be done that /someone's/ going to get hired and paid for. Might as well be you. I'm not offering you a position or anything. Deliveries, maybe some temp work." he tilts his head to the right, "On the other hand, if you look like you're /good/ at something, I'm not saying I might not offer you a real job either. But all I'm saying is that.." he pauses, "Don't take offense to this, but there's a lot of menial work to be done at higher paygrades too. I'm offering to get you in the mix, so to speak."
"Odd jobs are still jobs." It's where most of Meredith's cash flow comes from, after all. While she listens to 'Abrahm' intently, she doesn't answer him with a straight yes or no answer. Not yet, at least. "Do you do this a lot? Spill beer on people and then toss them some work?" Even if she's going to be just put into the mix, it's a strange that this all came from her just stepping into a bar to get out of the cold air.
Adam mms, "That exact series of events? No. I have to say this is the first.." he pauses, "But, if you were to ask do I end up offering odd jobs to people that I've recently met, I'd say that's a more common occurance. You meet people, you make friends, you do favors." he lifts one side of his lips, "I think you might be over estimating the importance of the work I'm offering."
That smirk from before is back on Meredith's face and she tilts her head just slightly as she watches Adam. "If you say it's menial, I believe you. I'm just not used to people giving offers of work to people they meet at bars. Where I come from, a strange man comes in and tells you he can offer you some work if you just follow him out to this harmless back alley, it gets a girl in trouble, you know what I mean?" The blonde haired pyro leans forward slightly at that, her eyes narrowing just slightly.
Adam chuckles a bit and says in reply, "Well, I don't need you to follow me in a back alley." he says in reply, "And forgive me for saying so, Ms. Gordon, but you look like maybe you can take care of yourself." he picks up one of the few napkins that wasn't used in the spill and takes out a pen, he writes a number down quietly and slides it across the table. "Look, you say no, it's no big deal. It's a good enough deed to me that I offered. If you do decide you want to pick up some work, call that number. It's my assistant. She'll be able to handle the details."
With a snort, Meredith raises an eyebrow again at Adam. "Why would you need to be forgiven for that?" As far as she's concerned, that was a compliment. After all, she didn't make it this far by being some random damsel in distress. It's hard to fake the fact that she's intrigued by this whole affair, and she takes the napkin to look at the number. It's just a number, it doesn't hold any answers to life's questions, but it's still interesting. Instead of dropping it into her empty glass or crumpling it up, she folds the flimsy napkin and slides it into her jacket pocket. "I'll think it over, then. Thanks for the offer, Mr. Ross."
Adam smiles, "You're welcome, Ms. Gordon." he says in reply. He glances at his watch, "And, it's starting to get to the time that all good Southern boys should be in bed, so I might as well see what's going on uptown." he winks a bit, teasing, perhaps even flirting. Then he stands, "So, I paid the bartender for your next few drinks. So, I guess you can mill around here or start a tab or something, I don't know, but whatever you decide is on me." he brushes his jacket down a bit, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Gordon."
It's a pity this bar is on the lower scale of things. It's not beneath Meredith to order a top shelf cocktail in order to make everything even in her mind. Even if she is considering taking him up on his offer for the odd job here and there. It never hurts to have more cash. Instead, she'll most likely make do with these two drinks before heading back out. "Whose bed is the question," she snickers at the wink. Leaning back in her chair, she gives him a wave. "Pleasure's mine. Stay warm." It's her own version of teasing.