Participants:
| Scene Title | Sun-Shiny Day |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | (Alternate title: Yaaaayyy) February 1st is not a sunny day in Brooklyn, but for one young woman, it will be the brightest day in her life. |
| Date | February 1, 2011 |
The sky above is a cool gray, the streets the same thanks to accumulated dirty and slushy snow in the gutters and along the stoops. Pedestrians' cheeks are rosy and tempers are short like the new month as they trudge through the streets on their errands. The words from everyone's lips fall in puffs of white breath, all talking about the same thing — the newest catastrophe to befall their city. Snatches of conversation between the passers by include "the dome," "Roosevelt" and "Queens," and there is a thrill of fear and angst in the air.
For Kaitlyn Dooley, the news means the loss of one of her comrades, and the one who has set up this meeting. The rendezvous point is the Brooklyn library, with one of the small reading rooms already reserved ahead of time by Jameson Jones. Late last night, he'd thought to text Kaitlyn as well as Calvin Rosen, to ensure this very important meeting could still take place without him.
For the smallest of three figures approaching the library, despite the angst and fear that she can sense — no one needs empathy to feel the irritation of New Yorkers on a bad day — there is something more thrilling that she can't name. Nora doesn't know why suddenly she's back in New York City and away from Pollepel, and the secrecy of her two friends only adds to the anxiousness. Her fingers curl around the crooks of her two gentleman friends.
"Hopefully Brian won't come walking down the street," she says lightly, unseeing eyes sparkling with amusement and curiosity.
"For his sake," agreed with just the right mix of humor and venomous dislike to effectively cloud any earnestly murderous intent that might lie beneath the velvety surface of his voice, Calvin is gentleman enough to pace himself at Nora's left side.
Opposite Benji, he's a genteel character cut in shades of black, white and grey — suit a somber shade of brackish coal beneath the blacker button of his peacoat. His gloves are lighter charcoal to match the orange-lined slash of his scarf, ginger hair swept back into its expected state of deliberate disorder. Eyeliner, shiny boots, pale face blanched all the more ghostly white by the January cold.
It's pure, unadulterated, antagonizing arrogance that sees the glass cut of his blue eyes cut clear into a sideways look at Benjamin when he lifts his free hand to get the doors: without touching them.
Heavy planes of metal and glass swing neatly out on their hinges to invite them in just before they're within reach, frozen breath clouded flat against warmer air across the threshold.
Nora can feel Benji's hand, mostly gentle in its clasp over her's, briefly tighten in the wake of the swing of doors, and a small exhale that hitches out of sync. The quick, animal-startle look over her head and to Calvin is purely compulsive, and shied away automatically when he meets Calvin's stare, a slight peachy tinge warming his face under freckles. He is a somewhat shabby presence of the three, in clothes that are ill-fitting if quite warm, still, a scarf bundled around his throat (various blues in the wool, the most colourful thing on him) and dark hair taking on an unkempt, greasy quality.
Faded bird-talon scratches on his face aren't nearly as prominant as where he'd cracked his head open on a boat above his left eyebrow, stitches careful, sore looking. He is also tired. Very tired.
Mouth pinching in anemic disapproval that goes unvoiced, helping guide Nora inside. "JJ said it was right this way," Benji narrates, out of the desperate need to say something unlike what he might want to say, in a sort of reassurance to Nora. "Mind your feet."
She'll give JJ one thing, he listens. Which is probably why Kaitlyn is rather relaxed, where she sits in the reading room already, even the look is disdain that continually creases her brows, or has her frowning, is gone. There is an old issue of Pause magazine in here hands. The library's copy. A piece of hard peppermint is rolled around in her mouth, absentmindedly as she reads… or more like skims really, rather bored of it already.
Her clothing is rather simple, like she didn't really put too much thought into it. Beyond the dark navy blue coat draped over the back of the chair, she's wearing an old gray NYPD sweatshirt, dark jeans and a pair of black boots. Rather under-dressed compared to some. To her credit she did at least put on some makeup and gather her long dark lengths of hair at the back of her head in a bit of a messy bun.
Occasionally, eyes lift from the magazine to the door in front of her, left slightly ajar.
When figures moves close to the door, she lowers the magazine slowly to the table. The itch like feeling was there, thanks to Benji's injuries, but under it was that off feeling. Like oil on skin, it isn't unpleasant, but it's kind icky and wrong… well in some cases. But won't get into that.
They don't really even get a smile or a pleasant greeting, when they step in. That she isn't scowling is a plus at least. But her brown eyes are on Nora, brows furrowed and head slightly tilted as if considering something.
"Your Nora," it's a flat and blunt statement as any, and as close to a hello as anyone might get. The other two are glanced at, brows tick up slightly. "And y'all are friends of JJ's?" There is a softly huffed chuckle, a rather disbelieving sound. 'Who would have thought', it seems to say.
The sudden voice of a stranger — and a stranger speaking JJ's name — has Nora's hands tightening nervously on both the arms of her escorts — though her chin lifts. Brown, sightless eyes make an attempt at finding Kaitlyn's face; the angle is right, even if they seem to stare through the stranger speaking to her. With the lift of her head, Nora's dark hair falls away from her cheeks except where the damp air has left some finer strands sticking to skin that's too pale from too many days spent indoors, aside from where it's rosy from the chill.
There's a soft audible swallow, and her brows knit together. "Are you?" she says.
"Yeh," says Calvin, a mild up and down glance for Kaitlyn enough to stay him short of an offered hand, "he's alright." 'Friends,' being a strong sort of — denotation. And all.
Like Benji seconds ago, he has to struggle to bite his tongue away from what he really wants to say. A paragon of self-restraint, really, adam's apple lifting to roll slow behind the carefully kempt fringe of his anchor beard. "More fun with a few drinks in him."
Meanwhile he's not exactly pushing Nora forward, warier than he probably has a right to be. Enough that the next glance he sends Benji's way across Nora's head is checking his read rather than narrowed deliberately to terrorize. Someone must have impressed upon him the importance of behaving himself.
At least for the next few minutes.
Benji's focus is ahead of him when checked, a swooping up and down of Kaitlyn that somehow manages not to be rude — simply wary and cautious, before he offers her a twitch of a smile, the passive to her aggressive and the gentle to her sharpness. The smile might be more signal to Calvin than it is to her, even if he's looking ahead. His hand moves to tangle with Nora's, and though he, like Calvin, does not usher her forward necessarily, he himself shuffles a couple of steps closer. Neglects to offer a hand of greeting, his free one in a fidgety clutch on the hem of his own coat.
"My name's Benji," is a simple kind of non-commanding introduction, after a stilted, vaguely uncertain pause. Even in the quiet of this secluded space, his tone is quiet enough that words need some attention to be heard clearly. "I don't know how much JJ has told you, but I assume he's made a good impression."
There is a grunted reply to Nora. "He's alright," Kaitlyn mimics Calvin's words, shutting the magazine with a lazy flick of fingers. "I think Co-workers is a better word for it, though." Arms rest on top of the cover as she leans forward on the table to consider the treat with only mild interest.
"And JJ didn't tell me more then, that there girl — " Kaitlyn points to Nora " — needs help with her eyes. And just sittin' here, I know he ain't lyin'." Point for him. She's friendlier then she was living on the streets, but still abrasive. "Beyond that, ain't my business and I don't really care."
Gaze moving back from it's open staring of the blide girl, Kaitlyn give Benji a once over. As an after thought, she states, "Name's Kaitlyn and I'm your healer for the evening." Then she offers a briefly flashed smile, even if it's a bit sarcastic. "Only got the one heal in me, so no thinking I can help you, though honestly… you'll heal fine." Giving a dismissive wave to Benji's injuries. "Get a pretty scar for it." Brown eyes moving to the stitches. "Gives character."
Nora follows the conversation with a tilted head, brows knitting in confusion until the word healer is mentioned. Her lips part and her eyes widen; both Benji and Calvin feel her fingers tighten yet again, on Benji's hand, on Calvin's arm.
"I … oh, my God," she whispers; her wide eyes glinting suddenly with a rush of tears borne of sudden and impossible hope — something she's felt less and less of with every passing day.
"You can? You can really — I didn't know…" the last is a bit of an apology for her lack of warmth in the surprise meeting. She lets go of Benji's hand to offer her right hand in a more proper greeting, as well as gratitude. "What… what do I have to do?"
Bitch bitch bitch. There's a tic of tightened muscle across the haughty cut of Calvin's cheekbone at callous reference to Benji's pretty soon-to-be scars and associate stitches, tension relieved into a grinding show of his teeth that almost manages to resemble a grin.
Ha.
He looks away and slacks the sit of his elbow in Nora's grasp, giving her some range to move in.
Healers.
He wasn't going to ask, is why Benji is briefly upset at this assessment of what Kaitlyn will and will not heal, surprised that it came up at all, as if having forgotten he'd have any pretty scars to worry about, and then sharply disappointed at the conclusion. It only shows in the dimming of pleasant smile, sunk away like the sun is due to do in a few more hours, but he steers his attention quickly and wholly on Nora as realisation hits her. He didn't come here for himself. A more genuine smile, then, because it is for her, and she can't— yet— see it.
He steps out of the way a little, untangling his hand from her's as necessary and clasping his own together, silent for the exchange and listening to Kaitlyn as much as he watches Nora.
The hand is stared at for a moment, as if something new and unfamiliar, Kaitlyn looking uncomfortable for a moment. However, with a bit of a soft sigh she takes that hand, it's actually a gentle grip. The edge eases out of her voice, as the girl looks like she's going to cry. "Yeah, I can fix that, I'm pretty sure." She tends to try and avoid healing if she can help it, so there is a little certainty. "But… it wouldn't be right if I didn't at least give it a try."
The hand is released, then both pressing to the top of the table so that she can rise to her feet. "Girls your age, shouldn't have to live like that… especially, if it's fixable." She may be a bitch, but she's at least got some sort of heart in there. "I only got one shot at this… My ability ain't easily turned on and off. Once it goes off that's it, then it'll be a day or so before I can give it anther go." She moves to step around the table towards the girl, a judging glance going to Calvin as she eases past him.
"So sit down, close your eyes and try not to fidget." There is an authoritative tone to the healer's voice, something that comes in handy normally for cops. "Not sure how long this'll take," admitted reluctantly.
Nora's lips press together and she nods her understanding eagerly, though the thought of it not working makes her stiffen ever so slightly, fingers curling more tightly around Calvin's arm where her gloved hand still rests. She nods again at the directions, reaching with a groping hand to find the chair that must be near by, and lowering herself into it when she finds it.
"I appreciate it. If you can't…" Nora swallows, and her chin rises as she defiantly accepts that possibility. "If you can't, I'm no worse off," she says through gritted teeth.
Benji and Calvin know her well enough to know that that might not be altogether true. The loss of hope can be a treacherous thing.
Judgment meets judgment ounce for ounce — sentiment shared for all that Calvin's version is more quietly cavalier. He watches on unblinking from on high, grimly uneasy the way most people are when shite news for someone they care about is suspended in any kind of imminent balance.
Fortunately, Nora can't see his face.
Aware that Benji can, Calvin avoids eye contact there, gloved hand trailing last contact light across Nora's seated shoulder on his way to stepping away to give Kaitlyn (a small amount of) distance to do her thing undisturbed.
Benji allows for more distance, the soft creaks of flooring underfoot indicate to Nora of someone pacing just a little, sharing the same concerns the other man has and wearing it to a degree as well. He shifts from watching Nora to letting pale-eyed stare eye the back of the healer's head. Fingers find fidgeting in the wide weave of home-spun scarf, sinking into it like a cat putting its claw in something tearable. The wait will suck, if there is one.
His back finds the wall, and he slouches, occasionally trading study to Calvin as much as either of the women in the room.
"Alrighty…" Kaitlyn murmurs, a gentle hand felt over Nora's eyes, thumb wrapping the opposite way as the rest of her fingers. "Now hold still and keeps them eyes shut, girlie. I ain't ever hear of anyone hurtin' durin' this so it could be fine."
Nora will know the moment the healer's ability goes into effect, as a tingling warmth seems to spread from where skin touches skin. At first Kaitlyn squints, eyes narrowing looking off to a point beyond the girl… "Mmm… girl you did a number there." Then her eyes slide shut brows furrowing, allowing it to take her over.
It doesn't hurt, but may itch a little and feel warm. Like if she had pink eye maybe. It's annoying, but not too bad. She can almost feel the way the retina heals, the energy fixing what ever happened to her to cause it. Then she'll notice it, the light getting brighter slowly.
It feels like agonizing minutes, drawn on for some time. Forever for those waiting. For Kaitlyn, so tied up in her ability it's over in no time.
Fingers loosen slowly, warmth fading. "Alright, Nora." There is a strain to Kaitlyn's voice, barely detectable, but really she's not too bad off. "Allow yourself time." It's a gentle warning. The hand is then gone and Kaitlyn is backing away. From her, from the men. Settling into her chair… a distance from Benji especially.
The teenager does as told, eyes closed, hands in her lap twisting around one another, though that is the minimal of fidgeting she does. Her lips part and she takes a shaky breath as that warmth and itchiness become all she can focus on for so long — time stretching out forever as every worry that it might not work bounces through her mind. It has to work. It feels like it's working. What if it doesn't?
When the hand is removed from her still-closed eyes, Nora remains, still, silent, teeth biting down on her lower lip. It's a long moment — longer perhaps than Kaitlyn intended.
Finally, the long lashes flutter and lift, revealing the dark eyes behind. Instantly, Nora squints, the fluorescent lighting of the small room too strong for eyes that haven't seen much but dark fog for months.
She gasps, lips and cheeks suddenly rising into a bright smile. "Thank you," she breathes, hands reaching to grab Kaitlyn's, squeezing it as those tears that were blinked away return.
It's difficult — very difficult — for Calvin to play down his temptation to light up and have a smoke in the library while he waits. Hands tucked deep into his coat, scruffy chin turned down into collar and scarf while he studies bits of old gum studded black into ancient carpeting in uncharacteristic silecnce.
Patience is not one of his more prominant virtues.
But there's no denying the genuine relief that slopes lax through his shoulders when Nora smiles, the most recent in a series of uncomfortably held breaths filtered out in a controlled gust. Thannnk fuck.
Hands fly up and press palm to palm when Nora finally opens her eyes, Benji grins, suddenly, when her breathy words break the suspense. Thannnk fuck, indeed. That was awful. This is much better. Silently, he gives a mute little seal clap of tiny yay gesture inclinations— yaaay— and taking a slightly audible breath like he might say something. Thinks again, holding it fast and high in his chest, before he shuffles closer like what he would like to do is wrap a hug around her.
But calvins can go first, or healers, even, despite Kaitlyn not exactly being the huggy type. If it was him she was healing, for more than just a bump to the head, she'd have to learn quickly.
Kaitlyn allows her hands to be grabbed, not having the… willpower to bat hands away and tell her to git. The younger girl gets an uneasy smile and a tired, "Your welcome. Sorry, I got no lollipop or nothin'." Then hands are extracted from her grip.
"Now, y'all git and you boys… I don't know… buy her a nice fancy-shmancy dinner." She flicks hands in a shooing motions. This is how she deals with people. People make her uncomfortable. "Better yet. Take her to movie or somethin', for god sake. Lord, know she's probably missed some sorta tear jerkin' girlie flick." She eyes Nora, squinting at her a little. "Or some action flick with lotsa that cee gee in it."
She picks up the magazine again, and flips it open as if she means to get back to the quiet. The trembling at the page corners gives away her exhaustion. "No reason to stick around this wholly depressin' — " person is left off, instead she chooses, " — place." Yeah, that's it.
As non-chalant as she's being, it's the first time in a long time that Kaitlyn feels good about something she did. Not that she'd let anyone know.
Adjusting to the light, Nora beams through tears that only blur her vision rather than blot it out completely. "Thank you so much. I … I owe you. Something. Sometime. Tell JJ if I can ever do anything for you, he'll let me know," she whispers to the healer, before turning swiftly to look at her friends.
Brows knit together as she stares at first one and then the other. Her face contorts and she sobs just once before flinging a thin arm around each of their necks. Group hug.
Group hug. Unexpectedly Calvin finds himself hooked around the neck and yoked down into close contact Nora and Benji whether he wants to be or not.
But Nora is enthusiastic and Calvin is fluidly inclined to go with the flow, left arm ready to grasp warmly around her in turn. The right vanishes, perhaps conspicuously, leaving Benji to sort out by process of elimination whose hand it is that cops a subtle feel.
Most likely in a manner that will not give away to anyone that he is concerned that he has just been groped. Much to Mister Rosen's impending entertainment.
"Try and cry into the scarf," instructed aloud, he angles a look down after lapel and Nora in the interceding space as well as he can. He is probably(?) not serious.
Unlike Calvin, Benji compensates for closeness by folding left arm against torso, polite if frigidly withdrawn, with his right wrapping close around Nora's shoulders, crossed over Calvin's arm. "I'll cry where I like," is muffled joke before Nora can respond, in a startling moment of compartmentalising because there is a hand where hand's shouldn't be, back stiffening rictus in panic that shows itself in twitchy hesitation that probably only Calvin detects. Then, the heel of his boot somehow finds Calvin's toes beneath it and a good distribution of Benji's admittedly marginal weight.
Not that toes care how skinny you are. Kodak moment prevails, damnit,Benji drawing back enough as his hand brushes down the lenth of Nora's hair affectionately.
When Benji's foot connects with Calvin's, there is a soft hiss of sound beyond them. Like discomfort.
"Can you take the touchy feelie show… Outside?"
It's snarky, but there is a barely contained pain on Kait's face, brows furrowed and eyes cast down again to the magazine, but not reading. Just staring at a point. No literally a . on the page. The display of affection has hit a really sore spot within the healer. Something she's pushed away and buried for just over four years. Something she'd rather keep buried, must like she pushes people away.
"Especially, if your gonna be goin' and hurtin' each other." That's right, Kaitlyn noticed.
The teen releases the two men and she turns to look at Kaitlyn, dark eyes still glimmering with unshed tears, fallen ones having left their marks on her cheeks. She presses her lips together, nodding in gratitude and sympathy for the tough FRONTLINE operative. "Thank you," she repeats. What else can she say?
"Come on," she whispers, reaching for Calvin's hand and then Benji's, and tugging them toward the door, before letting go again to open it for herself, to navigate her own path through the library without the need of guidance, without the need of protection.
The day outside is still gray, the slushy snow still sooty. But to Nora, the light has broken, glorious and fair.
Shit, Calvin doesn't quite say, gut suddenly cramped stiff with tension ridden all the way up from the end of his boot. Fuckun' — fuck.
It's all he can do to ride grimace into grin, hug firmed into more of a squeeze that diguises a grunt through his teeth on his way to kissing Nora cleanly on the cheek. Yaayyy~ and miracle glitter and all. It's a moment!
Then there's Kaitlyn's voice raking back in, and Nora's released him to blink hard and rankle his nose at Benji as her falls into laggard step behind her. Buzz kill Foster.
Buzz kill Foster smiles wide to nose wrankle, with maybe a little bit of shame in a head tilt — if not very much. All is fair, Doctor Agent. He tips a look over his shoulder towards Kaitlyn, more apology for her than for ginger, before he's releasing Nora into the wild and following on the tail end of the three. But he's in a good mood, now, and he suddenly skips steps ahead to fall into step with Calvin, a hand gripping onto his sleeve seeing as—
He doesn't have to arm curl with Nora's in limp, cling-vine grasp to guide her any more. So Benji cat-latches his hand on Calvin's arm instead as if seeking someone to walk him out in her lead.
…yaaayyy.
