Participants:
| Scene Title | Statute 130 |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | With a capital S |
| Date | February 6, 2011 |
Some Park
Coincidence Park
Walks in the park sure are nice, aren't they?
Calvin's taking Nora on one now, after a movie that was so-so and coffee that was better. Especially after he'd added kahlua.
So that now he's walking with spiked Starbucks still in hand, mellow-like, head held high and gingery mane ruffled chill by the winter wind. Not far from his place, now. This park is a small one, independently maintained; they've only got a block or two to go through crisp snow and skeletal tree branches.
"I've still got the setup from before if you'd like to stay at my place," he's staying. "I'll still let you have the bed even though you aren't blind."
As Nora walks, her dark eyes seem to dart here and there, taking in the sights of the park that most people wouldn't notice: the way the light plays off of the snow, the way the black silhouettes of trees seem to reach with gnarled and skeletal fingers toward the dark sky, the way their footprints tell a story of playful pushes and an impromptu snowball fight in the very recent past.
Gloved hands wrap around her coffee cup, and she takes a sip before nodding, her breath puffing out in a pale cloud. "I don't want to go back just yet, though I probably should. There's not a lot I can do here, that isn't already being done. And I promised I'd help them with the raid for vaccines. If people get sick there," Nora begins, and she shakes her head, shivering at just the thought of it. "And here, we could have asked you to get us some, but your works under that damn dome. Great timing."
If Nora were playing less attention to the environment and more attention to Cal, she might pick up on how closely he's watching her now that they're off on their mutual lonesome with the blankety white and the fog and the grackles fluffing raggedy on black branches. Searching, in a way. Measuring, maybe.
He's switched coffee hands, right to left so that he can loop his arm casually warm around her while they walk. The carefully plotted onset — more jaded eyes may recognize — of a move being made.
"They'll be alright for a day or two," is reassurance that comes at a distracted delay, tilted down towards her in a push of white breath. "I'd like it if you stayed." He stops them walking to say so. He says it kind of like, seriously? Also. A little like maybe he's planning on trying to kiss her. Except that she kind of talks a lot so it's hard to — find a good point to.
Y'know.
After an anxious, brownknit beat spent trying to plot out a halfway smooth point of entry, he just sort've goes for it. Out in the park.
With no one to disturb them.
In this city, there are fiffteen coincidental meetings every week.
Make it sixteen, bitches. The tune sets over the snow laden park softly. Fingers dancing over the strings nimbly, he has come a long way since starting to play the guitar. He doesn't even need to start over four times as he carries the tune.
"Don't stop believin~, Oh oh ooooh"
Brian Winters is sitting atop a frostbitten bench, large black jacket pulled in tight around him. A fgray scarf dangling over his guitar. Black beanie pulled down to his brow, the man is all heavily clad save for his hands. Which are bare due to the work they are committed to.
His song pauses, as his eyes carry over to the couple not too far off in the distance. His hand pauses on the strings. The song changes, to one of the only love songs in his repetoire.
"Why do birds suddenly appear, whenever //you are near…//"
The rare seriousness and quietude to his words has Nora tipping her head at //just/ the right moment; for a split second she looks confused, genuinely perplexed at the sudden closeness of his face, its gradual incline toward hers. Lips part to perhaps speak, but then it's too late for such communication. Whatever might have been said is lost in a kiss.
The fact that he isn't on the ground singing soprano in 2.8 seconds means the answer wasn't no, at least.
Unfortunately, they're being serenaded, and the sudden sound of a stranger's voice has her stepping away, dark eyes searching blue for a second before she whirls to find the voice that begins to grow more and more familiar with each note sung.
"How many ways should we kill him," she mutters to Calvin, though one hand slips to take his, squeezing it. Her heart pounds audibly and her cheeks flush.
Calvin bristles and turns like an angry cat in the same beat, brow already hooded and nose rankled. There is a witness.
And he's gone a bit pink through the ears himself, ginger genes slower to make him red in the face where his teeth show out white and his eyes too blue instead. It takes concentrated effort not to grip too hard when her hand slips into his, tension strung in steel cables through the back of his arm.
"As many as we can think've 'til he stops coming back."
"Just like me, they long to be… Closer to you."
The only one not harboring violence in this park, glances at the couple over there. Not really registering he knows them despite Calvin's ridiculous appearance. Winters continues to play, sitting on the ffrozen bench. "Why do stars, fall from the sky.. Every time you walk by. Just like me, they long to be…" His eyes travel up to the couple. Who he has been so nice to play some mood music for.
"Closer to you…" Winters eyes travel up, pausing on the couple. Oh hey. Is that…? Shit. The song stops. Complete quiet filling the park and then some rapid loud strumming.
"CUT MY LIFE INTO PIECES"
"Shhh, it's okay," Nora murmurs, squeezing back and stopping to squint ahead to their musical entertainment. She puts herself a step in front of Calvin, her shoulder overlapping his so as to keep him from making a mad rush to kill the lonely singer.
That she's watching him is obvious, and new — clearly Nora can see. The last time the Brian on the island had seen her was almost a week ago, but the reason for her departure wasn't given, but might be as obvious as her cautious appraisal of him now. "He's younger looking than I expected him to be," she notes, glancing up and at Calvin through the corner of her eye. "What do you want to do? Just ignore him and maybe he'll go away?" Her lips curve into a smirk, and her cheeks flush a little more as she studies Calvin's face with new eyes.
No it isn't. Hackles lifted coarse into grey afternoon light, Calvin is effectively stayed out of an immediate advance by Nora stepping quickly in the way. Just enough for him to catch at his temper. Sort of.
At Brian's distance, a warning tremor through the bench's iron rails stifles into nothing with a harder clamp of Rosen's teeth. At Nora's, nothing significant happens at all, save for the fact that he looks to be unreasonably angry about one little peeping tom. But Brian's got a big mouth.
"I've already said what I want to do."
Brian eases off the bench, his impromptu papa roach tune fading off into nothing. Stepping around it he goes to place the guitar in the black case. Throwing the top over it he starts to latch it, settling down on one knee. The bench shaking is enough for him. Dying again in New York City probably isn't the best option.
Straightening up, the black case is picked up. He has nothing to prove to Calvin. His stalwart opposition to Calvin and his adventure club has eased off the last couple weeks. Nora is given a little wave. Heeeyy~
"While I agree he probably deserves it, washing off blood and viscera from one another isn't the most romantic of first dates, is it?" Nora murmurs, peeking upward at her lashes at him, cheeks coloring a little more at the word date. Movie, coffee, walks in parks and kisses seem to qualify, but it also seems somehow juvenile to label it.
"Brian," she says coolly. "You're either stalking us or you have something to tell one of us. Which is it?" There's a strange disconnect between the uncertainty and awkwardness of the romantic moment with the way she addresses their antagonist.
Calvin watches Brian ease up off the bench without blinking. Watches him put the guitar in its case. Watches him do the latches.
It's all very unabrasive, really. Enough to narrow his eyes with clear suspicion, the likes of which doesn't abate when Brian gets to his feet again without causing more of a scene.
As for Nora's first question, he hesitates, a slow blink and a beat's timely thought sparing him any answer other than the one implied by the question itself. He shakes his head. Slightly. When he looks back down at her. No. No, certainly not romantic at all.
Any more verbal reply is stayed by her sort've — inviting Brian over, more or less, and it's all he can do to sigh instead of protest. Protesting would be conspicuous. Maybe he'll go away on his own.
"I wasn't stalking anyone. And I'm not here to tell either of you anything. Your eyes seem to be working. Congratulations." Brian offers a tight smile, before glancing to Calvin. "I was just playing here. So.. If I got to talk first I could have said you were stalking me." But he took too long to type his pose, then lost it, so his turn was last and…garsh.
Winters takes a step away from the two glancing down at their hands. His chin raises up to Calvin some. "Since you're here. Just wanted to say.. Sorry. You were right." A little shrug is given, and Winters turns his back to the pair.
"Thank you," Nora says, smiling, the expression sincere. "It's… well, pretty amazing." Her words are a little breathless, her voice a little thick. "I guess it could be a coincidence. I'm sorry if I assumed the worst." If he's going to apologize, she will, too.
At Brian's words, she turns her eyes up to regard Calvin, brows rising as if to say, 'See, it's not worth getting blood under our fingernails.'
She glances back to Brian, but lets the obvious question go unasked — what exactly was he right about?
Less inclined to hand out apologies willy nilly where things like pride are at stake in front of the girl he just kissed, Calvin feels himself hesitate so conspicuously that he can almost see his own forehead wrinkling with ill-contained conflict. And confusion. He's said a lot of things to Brian.
S'hard to remember exactly how much of it was bullshit this late in the game, the faintly acrid metal stink of him familiar to Winters at closer range while they look each other over. Eventually — eventually — he lifts his scruffy chin in a more subtle mirror of the same gesture.
"…Right about what?"
"NOTHING!"
Brian twirls around on one foot, jazz hands extended with a shit eating grin plastered on his lips. You've been PUNK'd!
But the thought only passes through Brian's mind, bringing him a small twitch of a smile that conflicts with his reverent exterior. Pausing, the black guitar case swings back and forth near his legs.
Eyes tracing over Nora, he smiles a little. "I imagine it is. What's the first thing you got to see?" He asks out of simple curiosity. Those are questions people ask, right?
To Calvin, he inspects the man for a little bit. A light shrug is given. "Everything." He offers simply. "I was wrong. I'm sorry I doubted all you guys. And acted crazy… And kidnapped you. And hit you with a gun. And broke into your house. And choked you out. And told some lady you were dead." Deep breath. Wow he has a lot to apologize for. The apologies seem to be mostly for Calvin, though one or two get tossed out to Nora. "And I'm sorry, I made fun of your hair." Who that goes to, is unspecified.
At the first question, Nora's lips curve around the memory of that warmth, uncomfortable as it was, as Kaitlyn healed her eyes, and the first things that came into her newly restored field of vision. "The healer, and Calvin and Benji," she softly.
Her brows knit as Brian apologies for his litany of sins and her eyes widen just a little when he mentions the choked you out part — if he didn't also choke Calvin out, this might mean bad news for the replicator. After all, all she ever said was she lost the fight, implying she'd been hit.
"Great. Thanks for the apology. Likewise," she says hurriedly, and tries to steer Calvin into a turn of the park's path away from Brian.
…
If Calvin looked suspicious before, he looks even moreso now, just the one eye squinted and brows canted at uneven angles. Some of this stuff he remembers.
Some of it either didn't happen to him or he hasn't found out about yet, connections slow to electrify sense into the entire picture with the added distraction of Nora literally holding him back.
His nostrils do a little flare once he's had a few seconds to digest what probably goes where, the choking out especially. But Nora's there. Hhholding onto him.
So that eventually he manages to grate out a faintly venomous, "Apology accepted."
The guitar case is raised up in a sort of saluting gesture.
"Have a great night." Brian offers simply, continuing on his way away ffrom the pair. His free hand is tucked into his jacket pocket. The other hand carrying the dangling guitar beside him. Taking a few steps the young man pauses and glances over to the pair behind him. "Congratulations you two." He smiles warmly before heading forward once again.
Holding her breath, posture tense as Calvin's is beside her, Nora watches Brian and nods, lifting her coffee cup in her own farewell gesture, before bringing it to her lips to sip the now lukewarm liquid — it still feels warm in comparison to the wintry air, and the Kahlua warms her throat.
Dark eyes follow Brian's path and she finally turns to Calvin, moving to step in front of him rather than to his side, arms coming up to wrap around his neck, coffee carefully held against his shoulder so as not to dump it on his coat.
She knows to let him keep Brian in his sights, letting her back turn to the replicator as she peers up. "Where were we?" she murmurs, rocking up onto the toes of her boots to tip her chin up, lips grazing his. "This is more fun than killing him, isn't it?" she teases.
"We will, thank you," says Calvin. "You too." It's a little eerie how quickly he can silk his tone out into polite sincerity after Brian's retreating back, Nora's arms already on their way 'round his neck. He widens his stance to bring down his height a bit in turn, coffee-arm looped around her back and brush of lips met halfway after a slow breath that does wonders to bleed tension out've his shoulders and chest.
The fact that he's at a near perfect angle to keep a steady eye on Brian's retreat is either coincidence or a bit creepy.
You decide!
Nora's eyes close for a moment, and she begins to walk backwards — luckily the path is clear of snow, and she trusts Calvin not to let her fall. "So before we were interrupted," she murmurs, dark eyes opening again and sparkling a little mischievously, "I was saying, I think, that I'd love to stay at your place."
Her lashes dip in mock coyness, though her cheeks grow a touch pinker than just the cold weather would cause, as she adds, a little breathlessly, "As far as the bed goes, I think we can share."