Participants:
| Scene Title | Sponsorship |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Gabriel has "problems" that he finally seeks out Magnes for. They thankfully become vague by the time Elaine walks in. |
| Date | May 28, 2010 |
Gun Hill: Magnes' Room
It's later in the evening, and Magnes' two bedroom Gun Hill apartment is rather baron with most of his things still at Dorchester. There isn't a poster in sight, but there are clearly people here. The smell of shower steam is thick in the air once someone enters the living room, and entering Magnes' bedroom, the only furnished area due to the nightstand, table for the large HD television, movies/games, and of course the bed, they can hear the shower from the bathroom next to the bedroom.
He's not hard to find, he's under a blanket, laying shirtless in bed with his hands behind his back, watching a Futurama DVD. The scents in the bedroom are more elaborate than the rest of the apartment. coffee, a feminine scent, and Old Spice… not to mention the hint of new electronics smell. "Hah, giant closet…"
It's an intimately intrusive kind of place to be, unless you live here, which Gabriel Gray certainly does not. Something shifts in the corner of Magnes' eye, someone entering his periphery and coming to rest his back against the wall. The scent of coffee in the room is abruptly heightened with an additional fresh cup clutched in Gabriel's hands, steaming merrily from a porcelain mug that Magnes will probably recognise as one of his own, should he think to glance that way.
Gabriel has his eyes on the screen too, watching the flat cartoon in motion, now, with the kind of demeanor that would imply he's been here a while. According to Magnes' recollection of events, he definitely has not. There wasn't even the sound of anyone making coffee in his kitchen. The serial killer is dressed, still, like he's just walked in off the street —a heavy black coat, with a red scarf of familiar material wrapped around his sleeve, and his shoes still damp from slush and snow.
"Nice place," Gabriel offers around the same time he's entered Magnes' periphery, flicking dark eyes from TV screen to younger man.
"What the-" Magnes spots the familiar figure, then hears the familiar voice, sitting up quickly to wrap his blanket completely around his waist. "What the hell, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" he asks with obvious impatience, taking him in, observing all the little details. The cloth is what gets his attention the most, someone who makes clothing can't help but notice the similarity. "Messiah?" is asks with clear surprise and curiosity, he's not sure, but… who wouldn't want Gabriel on their side? Magnes wouldn't, but Rebel's just crazy enough. "Oh god, were you here twenty minutes ago?"
"About twenty minutes. Not your twenty minutes." Gabriel doesn't comment on whether he's heard of knocking — it's a question he gets asked frequently enough at home, although apparently, not enough for it to sink in. Glancing down at the loop of red bound around his wrist, Gabriel simply shrugs his shoulders, lifting his cup up to take a long deep sip from it, nose near disappearing within the rim until he's done.
It's cold out there. He is also uninjured, which may or may not be a surprise. It's hard to say the likelihood of Gabriel getting hurt. "I've been looking for an objective mind. Failing that, I came here. How's your clean slate working out for you?"
Only now is there a curious glance towards the bathroom door, as if he hadn't really noticed the sound of a shower and the presence of another person until now.
"I guess it's working out. I'm finally starting to move on from the Apollo stuff, though since the blizzard I'm not sure if I have a job or not, have to contact my boss. I have a band and we're writing a rock opera, and I recently got a new girlfriend." Magnes crosses his arms, staring at that material again when he doesn't get an answer. "So what is it that you want exactly? I may not be completely objective, but I'm analytical."
"I have problems." His gaze wanders along a corner of furniture rather than look at Magnes directly. "And you're probably one of the few people I'd have to concentrate enough to kill." Sucking in a breath, Gabriel levers himself off from the wall, pacing forward a meandering step, though coming no closer.
Whatever's left of his coffee is swirled around within porcelain container, and his other hand finds a pocket to settle in. "Does your girlfriend," his heavy skull lists to the side to indicate the bathroom, one thick eyebrow going up, "know about Messiah too?" It's as much of an answer as Gabriel is willing to give — that Magnes recognises the red scarf at all is answer for Gabriel to a question he didn't even ask.
"She doesn't, she's not… in this life, she doesn't know about most of this stuff. She just knows I'm involved in things." Magnes ties the blanket around himself, just in case he needs to spring up. He can guess what 'problems' are. "Are your compulsions overtaking you again? I met an old man with your ability, tried to kill a gym full of people. You know anything about that?"
There's some surprise in the way Gabriel jerks his gaze back up to meet Magnes', guarded and resistant, before his mouth ruefully twists in a smirk, sneer in his voice. "You met dad. I saved his life, like, twice, and I don't even know why. He's a murderer and— " And his jaw locks up, defense in his shoulders and some doubt that this was ever a good idea in the way he weaves a look away from Magnes, meandering another pacing step leftwards. "He probably deserves everything that I deserve.
"It's probably why I gave him a second chance. I just— I wanted to be something different, but I'm just being exactly who I was always meant to be. Retracing steps I didn't even know were set down. Compulsions. Yeah," and a thin, dry snicker snakes out between teeth, "you could say I'm having those too."
Another shrug towards the bathroom. "Should I not be here?" he asks, raising up his coffee to take another sip.
"Don't worry, you're here post all the interesting stuff." Magnes assures, and is careful not to use his ability as freely as he normally does, not wanting to tempt a lion with red meat. "So, your father. That answers that." And now there's a few… well, visits to make, since calls are so unlikely. "And I can't help but notice a clear beating around the proverbial bush. So why don't you tell me what you want me to help you with?"
Descending into a comfortable crouch, still keeping a distance but not so much that he's out of sight, Gabriel takes Magnes at his word and does not leave, arms rested against bent knees, mug held loosely in long fingers. "I need you to tell Claire that she doesn't have to shoot me on sight anymore. To tell her that the situation is about as on hold as it can be. If you're not in contact at all, or if she won't trust you, I can have Eileen track her down instead. It's important. Otherwise—
"Nothing tangible. The people I talk to want me around and might tell me the things they think I want to hear. We don't exactly have that kind of rapport. I guess I'm curious about whether you still think I'm a step above Norman Bates. If you still think villains are only made out of fear and a lack of understanding. People keep wanting me to help them."
It's an odd place to pause, and his tone suggests he probably has more to say, but ultimately he doesn't — exhales a soft snort, and seems too tired to pursue that train of thought much further.
"Claire… I have ways to contact her, but the communications systems are very unstable, so it wouldn't be a sure thing. I think Claire's still pissed at me for trying to be close to her again, but this is important, and I guess it's the least I can do since you kept me from killing someone when that person did whatever he did to my mind." Magnes doesn't sound the most happy with having to contact her again, not that he dislikes her, but something about potentially ripping the fresh bandages from his wounds, well… "My opinion of you, I guess it's changed a bit, not in a particularly good or bad way. Your ability makes you a lion, and the rest of our kind meat. But you're a lion with a mind, and possibly Green Lantern-like willpower, so I still believe you can control yourself. You make an effort, that's something most people don't give you credit for, you do make a real effort and I respect that."
He reaches over for a cold cup of triple chocolate mocha he has sitting on the nightstand, sipping the rest of it down. "Despite everything, like your relapse back at Apollo, I still consider you my friend. And my lack of fear is not so much to do with my ability, and more to do with the fact that I truly believe that you try."
"Sometimes I hate that I try." This simple, if bitter statement is muttered into his coffee as opposed to hooking it into the conversation proper, and Gabriel goes to set it aside. Discomfort is probably detectable, by now, in the tension of his shoulders and the ever-shifting mark of his attention — perhaps things were smoother, in the brighter future. But no one is dying tonight, so that's something. "There's someone who has a new ability — people think that I can help her. The last time I helped someone — things go wrong for me."
For all of his own kind of stilted awkwardness, the lull of conversation is something to get distracted with, ignoring both Futurama on the television and no longer factoring in the presence of someone in the other room. Gabriel remains in his gargoyle crouch, hands loose at his wrists and gravel-toned voice at a quiet level.
It would have been hard to notice, if one hadn't been paying attention, but the shower has stopped. After a moment, the bathroom door opens and out walks Elaine, wrapped in a white bath towel, red hair loose about her shoulders. She /thought/ she heard voices, but with Futurama in the background, she wrote it off as the cartoon. Now, of course, she notes that it isn't so.
Seeing as she isn't planning on retreating, Elaine reaches to make sure the towel is secure around her body before she clears her throat. "I'm not intruding, am I?" She asks, an eyebrow raised. Her gaze flickers from Gabriel to Magnes, and back.
"Ah, no, it's fine, we're not talking about anything clandestine anymore. Elaine, this is Gabriel, Gabriel, Elaine. If you have x-ray vision, we're gonna have some problems." he warns the older man, then goes back to their previous discussion… well tries. He looks to Elaine again, then coughs. "Could you put a robe on?" then finally, he moves on with the discussion. "I think you could help her, whoever she is. But I know you might be tempted, I know sometimes it could be too hard for you. So, how about I be your safety net? There to save you from yourself if you start feeling those urges." He's being quite vague not that Elaine's around.
Gabriel doesn't startle — but the look he does deal Elaine is cold, flat, assessing. By the time Magnes is introducing them, a kind of warmth has kindled. He even smiles at her, splays his fingers in a wave that those who know him better would identify as facetious, and those who do not would identify as friendly. There are times when he can seem like a completely different person. This would be one of them. "No x-ray vision. We're cool. It's nice to meet you," he adds, a brief twitch up of an eyebrow, as he levers himself out of his crouch.
Fingers fidget a little with the red scarf at his wrist, serious brows now knitting together at this suggestion. Well. Better than asking Raith to set a sniper-sight on him. "You'd do that," he asks, though his flat tone sounds less querying, more thoughtful.
Elaine is quick to note the first look from Gabriel. She offers a kind smile, though at Magnes' request for a robe, she moves back into the bathroom, fishing for a robe. She disappears for a moment before heading back out, robe-clad this time. She's well-aware of the silence and vague talk on Magnes' end of things, so when she returns, she just steps quietly out of the way, moving to go sit on the bed.
"Yes, I'd do that. I don't want you to do something you'd regret, and like I said, I believe in you. If me being there can give you more confidence, knowing that there's a safety net, then I'll do it." Magnes reaches over to take Elaine's hand, but keeps his gaze squarely on Gabriel. "You just say the word."
"He's my sponsor," Gabriel tells Elaine, an edge of wry accompanying his tone, hand drifting up to rub his fingertips along the slope of his brow. "I have to ask the girl first," he responds, more seriously, seemingly blithe in discussing this in the presence of a stranger — it probably doesn't ultimately matter, in the end, even if she did recognise him, and even if they weren't talking so vaguely. "But I will. Give the word. If I think I have to."
"I'm glad, you shouldn't be afraid to ask me for help, no one should have to do things alone. You don't wanna end up dead like Batman or something." Magnes offers a friendly hand, holding his sheets still. "Just let your friend know that I'm trustworthy and have some experience with teaching people to use their abilities." Kinda… sorta…
There's a pause, before Gabriel is moving forward, enveloping up space between himself and the edge of the bed on which Magnes found his perch to meet the handshake. It's a clammy and human meeting of tactile contact, with ordinarily rough fingers branching from smooth palm, knuckles cold from the chill outside, still. It ends as fast as it started, Gabriel rocking back a step and tucking his chin in at a single nod. "Fine.
"Thanks." Chill brown eyes shift from Magnes' face to Elaine's, and with the smallest of feline curls at the corners of his mouth that indicate a good for you kind of smirk, Gabriel goes to turn and head for the door, without indication of opening it first. He doesn't really need to.
Once Gabriel's gone, Magnes just lays back in the bed, arms sprawled as he stares up at Elaine's sitting form. He's not sure what to think, but at the very least, he'll look forward to giving Gabriel his one month without a murder chip.