Participants:
| Scene Title | Strange Bedfellows, Stranger Friends |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Somewhere along the way, Lola's become something more than just a nuisance or an asset… but a friend? Well…. maybe… |
| Date | Dec 10, 2010 |
Lola's Apartment
Lola left Elisabeth a nice little text message. Come visit me it says, and that should be enough. She imagines that Liz will do just that, come and visit her, so Lola waits in her little apartment, the temperature kept just a little bit too hot. You can take the girl out of the bayou…well, you know how it goes. Most people do, anyway. So there is Lola, wearing her kevlar vest and some jeans and a pair of short black gloves as she checks a wide spread of weapons left across the coffee table. She does this several times a day now, getting used to…well, her new livelyhood.
The knock on the door is brisk even if the blonde on the other side of it is beginning to age under the strains that have weighed on her in addition to the blown-out ability she sports. She wears a pair of khaki pants and a chocolate blouse beneath her wool coat, and even as she steps in, she's stripping out of the coat. "Talk to me," she says quietly, succinctly. It seems the Operations Director of FRONTLINE is on something of a short timeline.
"Well Ah was gonna offer ya a glass a wine, darlin, but…" Lola shrugs, peeling off her gloves and tossing them lightly upon the pile of guns. She really is set for the apocolypse to happen. Well, again, anyway. "Ah just wanted ta tell ya Ah been workin' that Ferry angle ya gave me. Had ta jump through some hoops, an Ah didn' get much. Just got that their normal lines a communication ain' so good, an whomever it is they think what done sold 'em out, they got it from good sources that the folks ain' that far from 'em. So if yer lookin' fer the folks yerself…looks like them Ferry already done know 'bout it." Lola pours herself a glass of red and takes a swig - quite unrefined, really.
"I don't need one," Elisabeth says mildly. And then her brows shoot up. "I'm not looking for the ones who betrayed them," she replies. "All I wanted to know was whether Abigail was a suspect. But thank you for checking it out. I'm glad for that. I hope you didn't…. rattle too many cages." Jensen Raith will be unhappy with her if Lola did.
Lola swings up on the counter, removing a cigarette. She lights it, but not with the same, expensive silver lighter she's been using since she met Liz. No, this is a cheap throwaway lighter. Strange, that. "Nah," she says easily, puffing before removing the cigarette. She pauses to exhale before speaking. "Ah did a small job fer then, in return Ah got ta ask a few questions. Ah didn' wanna ask outright 'bout Abby, seein' as they might suspect her more hearin' a shady Cajun bringin' up her name. But if she's anyplace where they got tabs on her, they might well be suspectin' her."
Considering that Liz knows exactly where Abby is at this moment, she highly doubts it. "Abby's safe," she says quietly. "Things are settled on that front." She pauses and comments mildly, "Just make sure your side business doesn't impact my business, lady." It's her only criteria.
"What's yer business?" Lola has to ask. She can't know if she's impacting it if she doesn't know what it is! "Ah mean, truth be told sugar, Ah dunno much 'bout yer official capacity. Ah know 'bout yer Dicky Cardinal one, but not 'bout yer copper one. Always figured that was a side a the line Ah didn' never wanna cross. But since we're at this pass, let's caulk this wagon an' float it." She motions for Elisabeth to go one and explain it.
"Nothing in my FRONTLINE business should impact your sidelines unless you're in the way when a raid comes down. So me knowing where you are is a good plan," Elisabeth tells her. "I can't keep my squad from raiding whatever comes down the pipe at us. I was more referring to making sure that whatever jobs you're running for the Ferry or whoever else on the side doesn't shatter the ties I've already got out there with them. And don't fucking work with the Chinese gangs. I've been given to understand there's a hit out on Richard," she sighs.
Lola shrugs a little. "Well,most a the jobs they got me doin' is off on the way, way side, but Ah'll let ya know anythin' big goes on." She smokes again, swinging her legs. "No Chinese, gotcha darlin. An' just ta keep ya up ta speed, Ah got a drop comin' up with mah gunrunner here at the end a the month, hopefully when mah ID'll be in too, so Ah kin start runnin' checks fer ya. So anythin' 'comes through the pipe' on them fronts, ya gimme a hollar, huh? Ain' much fond a the idea a endin' up in that new-fangled Moab they's contrivin."
"Yeah… I'm not liking most of that shit either," Elisabeth admits. Right now, she's simply biding her time. "We're just going to have to see how it goes." She's in a good position to see if anything about the island hits the raid sheets, after all. "Thanks for the update," she says. "Let me know if you need anything else."
"Sure," Lola agrees, downing her wine and going back to her cigarette. "Hey, darlin…ya know, if ya ever wanna come by an just…hide. An crash, an sleep an drink or whatever else…ya know ya can, right?" Gosh, if Elisabeth didn't know better, the softening of those eyes, the wrinkles of a frown, the slightly-forward body pose - it would seem as though Lola Mayeux were worried for her.
Moving to throw her coat around her shoulders, Elisabeth pauses at the door. Uncharacteristically — at least for her with Lola — she looks uncertain. Kind of … lost. The brutal exhaustion is settling around her like a cloak again. "Maybe I'll take you up on that sometime," she says softly. "Thanks."
"Sure darlin," Lola drawls, watching her from her pertch on the counter. "You take care of yerself now, alright?" It's actually sincere, those words. Sincere and southern, like real southern hospitality, the thing that doesn't actually exist, but people like to speak of. For a few moments right here, it does exist.