Participants:
Scene Title | Spokesperson v. Spokesperson |
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Synopsis | Miss Cee shows up to try and explain herself to Tracy, who is having none of it. When they leave, a mysterious clue is left behind. |
Date | May 23, 2009 |
The Orchid Lounge, owned by the mother of Senator Nathan Petrelli, is an Asian-inspired martini bar lit by candlelight and the soft glow of wall sconces spaced evenly throughout the room. Although there aren't any employees at the door to check for identification, it's unusual to find anyone in the college-aged crowd at the Lounge, which caters to young professionals with plenty of extra money to burn. During the day, the plush burgundy drapes affixed to the windows are used to filter out the sounds of traffic and at night are drawn back to allow passersby a glimpse inside.
Seating is simple: clusters of rectangular tables fashioned from white marble, each with two leather benches parallel to the longest sides. Silk pillows in varying shades of red, brown, yellow and orange lend a splash of colour to the Lounge, vivid against the pale walls and black-painted cement floor. On one wall is a giant mirror with an intricately carved frame that reflects almost everything in the room and makes the space appear twice as large as it really is. Clearly, the proprietor of this establishment wanted to get her money's worth, real estate in this part of town isn't cheap!
It is early evening over New York City and twilight is quickly overtaking it, but, the city that never sleeps isn't getting ready for sleep. A light drizzle can be seen outside, making everything seem grey and washed out. A rather melancholic day, some would say, otherwise would laugh and indeed go singing in the rain. Regardless, Candy Allard can be found inside of The Orchid, the woman frowning faintly as she runs a hand through rain slicked hair. She stands out in the crowd, mostly because of her dress. She does not look like she belongs in a ritzy place such as this, but she has money and money talks when appearences aren't quite enough. Ask any John on the streets. She nurses a glass of wine as she waits for a certain someone to come in. The woman has a couple of apologies to make, some explaining to do, and can hopefully smooth things over so that she isn't being hunted down by Homeland Security for being a terriost along with an escaped evolved. On the other side, those are both one and the same now days. Her eyes are kept on the door, the woman shivering as she represses the urge to just make all that water hit the floor.
Soon enough, Candy's target will arrive. Her hair is down today, which is unusual but not unheard of. A business suite is her attire of choice, with a wrap around trench raincoat and an umbrella. People don't seem to be rushing through the door to get in this place - no, that's for others who don't always have an umbrella. Ritzy people seem to have umbrellas in spades. Tracy Strauss does not see Candy, at least not right away. Instead, she offers her coat and umbrella to the coat check, stepping toward the bar with a light air. "Hello Robbie." She says to the bartender, slipping into a seat. "Usual, if you please, I haven't got long."
Candy looks over at her target, another sip of the wine being taken. Luckily for Tracy, Candy isn't here to eliminate her target, merely to nuetralize it, or something like that. So, she merely says, "Hello there, Ms. Straus, correct?" She looks around the bar, before she adds in much quiet tones, "Don't panic. I'm not here to do anything to you, just talk about a particular day." With the current news that is hitting, Candy's face is largely forgotten, and its not like the camera on the phone really got a decent vid of her anyway.
Looking around once more she adds, "Hope you weren't too offended. It was just business. I needed something for them to accept me as one of their own and unfortunately, you were in the right place at the right time."
But she doesn't panic. Not quite the opposite, either, but she does perk up. "Miss Cee, I presume." She says, the hand on her drink tightening somewaht in a shallow display of discomfort. She listens, eyes as cool as ice upon the woman. "I see. You are here to apologize for attempting to martyr me to Humanis First? Or perhaps you are here to apologize for advocating the anarchy of one of the most stable and democratic countries in the nation. Or perhaps you are here to apologize for wearing a t-shirt into a business lounge." Still, although Tracy's tone isn't poision, it's icy, her hand on the martini glass still. There's unsettlement there, but she does her best to choke it down.
Candy blushes faintly before saying in a nuetral tone, "How about all three? And the t-shirt is beyond my control, fancy dresses are beyond my budget. Something I am sure you are not famaliar with." She takes a sip of her wine glass as she adds, "I merely thought it would be a good idea to extend my hand in peace, one may never know when you need a friend. That, and I did feel a little bad about the whole thing, after I thought about it." And saw it a million gazzillion times on the television. And got kicked out of her lodgings. And had a major set back in her goals.
Tracy seems to be more at ease now, sitting back a bit, but she doesn't sip her martini and she certainly doesn't take her fand from it. "I certainly can't imagine any incident where you might call on me as a friend, but if you mean the Federal Government, we protect all our citizens, even the fear-mongering soap box speakers." Well, given the context of what happened, is Tracy really wrong in saying that? Fairly not. Tracy leans forward a bit more, the light catching the pearls around her slender throat.
Candy shrugs her shoulders a little, "The future has a way of throwing together unimaginable situation," she replies. Setting down her wine glass before both hands go into her lap, "I am merely stating that it could be in the government's interest to have somebody on the inside of Humanis First who reports information directly someone who speaks directly with the President. Less chance of words getting mixed up, or somebody deciding that some information shouldn't get through," she states. She offers a faint smile and nods her head to the thinly vieled insult, "We each have our place," is her egnamatic reply.
Alright, Tracy has to let it out. Just one little chuckle. Just one. A smidgen of one. There it comes, from her red-painted lips. "My apologies, are you the new spokesperson for Humanis First? Let me get out my blackberry…" She releases one hand from her martini glass to pull out a blackberry, setting a recorder on as she places it gently on the bar. "So, let me clarify. The new statement from Humanis First is that it will result in Non-Evolved persons becoming secondary citizens and hearded into camps, am I correct?"
Candy shakes her head a little, before she makes a cutting motion with her hand, and then finishes her wine. Tape recorders are bad. With that, she stands up to head out. She did what she came to do, no sense in getting herself entangled in anywhere else at the moment. She has enough on her plate as it is. Being a double agent in Humanis First on assignment from Phoenix who she is a double agent in on assignment from Pinehearst. Life is complicated enough without tossing a bearucrat into it.
Tracy slips the blackberry back into her purse, releasing the martini glass and moving to follow Candy. Oh, no. You're not getting away that easily. "Miss Cee, I really need to know. If you are the new spokesperson for HUmans First, you'll need to be in discussions with me concerning policy."
Candy can very well get away that easily as she just walks. "Miss Straus, I'm flattered that you would like an evening walk with me, but unfortunately, I do not," she stops for a moment before she says, "How do you put it? Roll that way." The whole thing is said loud enough for the place to hear. Tit for tat.
The smile that comes across Tracy's features is an icy one - almost seems to chill the room. "That's quite alright. Let me inform you about how I 'roll'…." The blackberry is in her hand again, her purse being lifted up over her shoulder. "How I roll, Miss Cee, is calling the authorities when I meet someone who is wanted for questioning for inciting a riot in New York City. Which, after all the trouble this City has seen recently, they do not take lightly." Her well-manicured nails start to dial.
Candy doesn't even take a minute to stand there, before she is out the door and running as fast her legs will take her. Making sure to double back and change directions more than a couple of times so that Tracy can't just say, 'she went thata way,' and they find her.
And the dialing is finished. And the phone is brought to her ear. "Cam? Hi, it's Tracy Strauss. Yes, hi, how are you. Listen, I was wondering if we could get together for that talk we needed to have over with Burt, from Lockheed Martin? Sounds fantastic, see you then." By the time Tracy's hung up the phone, she's back at her seat. But she doesn't last there long. She sits there, holding the martini glass between her fingers but never sipping, finally standing up to leave. She was shaken with that woman finding her so easily. So shaken.
A minute or two later, the bartender comes back for Tracy's undrank martini. He picks it up with a raised eyebrow. Martini glasses aren't supposed to be frosted…..