Participants:
| Scene Title | Tell Me What You Think |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Delia is trying hard to find out what her father things of Jaiden, Ryans isn't giving it up easily. |
| Date | September 08, 2010 |
Gun Hill: The Ryans' Apartment
The smells of breakfast wafting through the tiny apartment are shades of what used to happen at home. Years ago it was almost every morning. After the bomb, there was a long period of time it didn't happen at all unless the family's patriarch did it himself. Then it was just the smell of coffee before a quick grunt good morning and a rush out the door. Then… again there was nothing. Things only started to get back to Ryans family normal a week or two before the big upheaval, after Ben came home from Russia.
Delia isn't the best cook in the world but she's a far cry from the worst. The pancakes are made with bisquick instead of scratch, but they're shaped into little Mickey Mouse heads, just like Mary used to make every Sunday morning. It's Delia's way of saying thank you. For everything.
"Breakfast is ready dad!" She hollars down the hallway, forgetting for a small moment that they're not in their big house anymore. She doesn't have to yell, it's just something that comes a little more naturally than taking the time to walk through. His bedroom is at the far end, hers is closer to the livingroom. Mostly so they can keep an eye on each other. Possibly for the same reasons.
"Try to remember, Delia, we share walls with others." It's a gentle reminder from her father as, Benjamin Ryans steps out of the hallway. He's freshly dressed, in his work clothes for the day. A red flannel is in the process of being shrugged on as he allows his path to carry him into the kitchen. His focal point is the pot of coffee waiting.
He's been working steadily on the apartments downstairs, sometimes with help, other times without it. Ryans was making good on his promise to Lynette, he was determined to make some sort of progress. "Think you'll be able to get to some of the painting in that one apartment?" He asks this casual as he retrieves a mug and fills it for himself.
"Finished last night, Jaiden helped," is the swift reply to his question. Without all of the activities that she used to occupy herself with, Delia's been restless. The painting was a welcome relief from the cabin fever tht she's been experiencing by not being able to leave the confines of the building. It's possible that she's not completely locked in by rule, but she's also a little too afraid to test it. That is something her father knows about her all too well.
After mentioning the name that's been on her mind since their flight, the redhead lifts her eyes toward her father in the kitchen and just waits for something. A chunk of Mickey's ear gets swirled around in some syrup as her blue eyes stay fixed on him.
There isn't much said by her father, Ryans stays silent as he carries the steaming mug of coffee to the table before settling there. "Still plenty to be done." He points out, pancakes plated, by spearing them on his fork and lifting them to his plate. "The building seems to have taken a pretty big hit after the freeze.
"Never thought all that work, your mother wanted on that house would come in handy." A final pancake is shaken off Ryan's fork and the syrup is plucked from the table. "She was always wanting something redone."
Delia hasn't stopped looking at Benjamin, even as he fluidly went off topic from what she wanted to talk about. "Yeah, so… Anything besides paint that I can do to help?" She moves on with him, still giving him the sly eyes while interjecting, "Jaiden's a mechanic, I bet he knows a lot about … uhm.. stuff. He owns a garage so I bet he's got lots of tools too."
She keeps picking at the issue that she wants to focus on. Tilting her head, she ducks and weaves until her blue eyes find his matching pair. "C'mon Dad… can you at least tell me what you think?" The young woman is nervous, it's the first time she's actually had someone meet her father.
There is a heavy sigh from Benjamin as he is trying to avoid talking about the man, Delia has brought into her life. He still doesn't speak up when he cuts into the stack of pancakes on his plate, now covered lightly in syrup.
"He's too old for you." He finally manages to say around a bit of his food, only a glance going to his redheaded child across from him on the other side of the table. Another bit goes in, eyes moving to the food on his plate again, as he says, "Your a grown woman, Delia, I doubt my opinion would really even matter. Either way, I'l lbe here to pick up the pieces, if he hurts you." Not exactly confidence inspiring talk.
The look Ben gives her is a challenge, he knows. Delia is a Ryans, they are stubborn creatures.
But it does matter, and he knows it matters. The young woman's face drops and she just stares at her pancakes for a while before pushing her fork around the plate, spilling a little bit of syrup off the edge into a sugary bead on the formica top. "It's less than Lucille and Flint Deckard," Delia grumbles as she cuts angrily into one of the smaller bits. She's not above throwing her absent sister under the bus, especially when she knows there's no defense for the elder child's behavior anyway.
"And it's less than you and mom…" She adds a little more softly. The redhead looks up again and furrows her eyebrows as she watches her father calmly eat his breakfast. "Why don't you like him? Can you give me a reason why you think he's going to hurt me?"
"There is no Lucille and Flint." The words stiff and snapped out roughly, "And I never said I did not like him." Ryans growls out, fork striking loud against the plate, making a sharp sound. The forks stabs at the wedge of pancake, before he levels a look at her across the table.
"You can't expect me to make a judgment, Delia, on only on meeting." Ryans doesn't work that way. The food is forked into his mouth, forcing him to talk around it. "Not to mention, I am a little preoccupied with our situation to be stressing over is I approve or not."
Again a heavy sigh escapes him, Ryans head shakes slowly. "He does not seem enough of a threat for me to be worried about."
Delia's eyebrows raise in disbelief as her father denounces her sister's infatuation with his coworker. "Alright~," she sing songs, the disbelief in her voice is altogether too evident. "You weren't the one trying to sleep when she was trying to— " The redhead stops short and stuffs a large bite of pancake in her mouth, deciding to value her father's sanity over her sister's well being.
Grabbing her glass of orange juice, she swallows the overly large and rather painful bite with a grimace. "So what you're saying is that you want him to come over more so you can get to know him?" Her smile is very big now, and he can see the wheels turning in her head as she turns to face him again. "I was going to ask him to help me practice… Since he's safe and everything."
"I didn't…" It doesn't show, but Ryans is flustered and frustrated. His forks goes down on his plate a little rougher then he planned and he pushes it away. "Your asking me… "he looks like he trying to explain it, brows furrowing. "…to judge a boy your seeing, while I have the government breathing down my neck, hunting me and my team, and your sister still missing."
Hands press on the table, pushing him to his feet. "Check with Lynette on what all needs to be done, she has a list." Ryans is obviously avoiding the subject. "I have work to do."
Benjamin starts to walk around the table and past his daughter, but stops by her side. His head turns so that he can look down at her. "Do what you need to, but remember I live in this apartment too." The same warning he gave Jaiden.
"You're not the only one, Dad, I just want one thing that's normal. I'm worried about her too… and you… " There's nothing said about herself. Eyes cast down on her plate, Delia heaves a long sigh as she gets up and pulls the rest of the dishes off to get them ready for washing.
Scrape scrape scrape
The rest of her pancakes find their way into the garbage and the leftovers are wrapped up and put into the freezer for toasting another morning. The youngest Ryans stays by herself in the kitchen, letting her father cool off, just like her mother used to do. Though they never argued in front of the girls, it was a tell. If they didn't finish dishes together, it meant something was up. Normally it was because the girls were playing one parent off of the other to get something they wanted. On the rare occasions it worked, Mary was being too lenient for Ben or Ben was being too lenient for Mary.
Before threading her hoodie over her arms, Delia carries it in both hands to find her father. "Dad, I didn't mean to push you into a corner. I just really like him.. he's really nice… and I think he likes me, not just likes me to get to Lucille."
Perched on the edge of the futon, Ryans is in the process of putting on his work boots. This deft movements of his fingers as he works the laces are jerky with his contained frustration. He doesn't look at his youngest as she approaches him, but he is listening to what she says.
"I know." He says finally, straightening from his hunched position. "And I am trying to stay out of your way." He finally confesses, rising to his feet, stomping each foot once to make sure his feet are settled into the boots. "He doesn't seem like a threat, so… I'm trying not to judge too much, yet."
"Don't worry Dad, I can take care of myself." Except she can't and they both know it. The latest bout of trying to take care of things herself got her arrested the night before they went on the run. Lacing her arms through the sleeves, she zips up the lightweight jacket straightens it out over her body.
Unlike Benjamin, she doesn't lace up her shoes, preferring to just twist them onto her feet until they fit snuggly. "Is it just the bottom floor apartments that need done? Or are we going through all of them?" From nursing student to handyman, the young woman has been taken down a few notches on the collar scale. Then as if remembering something, she twitches her eyebrows a little and grimaces. "Dad… someone told me that we're getting new identities. Will I have to start school all over again? Or … or will they try to get me an identity with my GPA?"
"Honestly?" There is a slow side to side of Ryan's head, "I do not know, yet. I image at some point we'll be hearing from some of the Ferry's senior members." Lips press together for a moment, moving to open the door to their apartment.
Blue eyes study his youngest, as he pulls open the door, holding it for her. "Once things settle down and we know what they have in store for us, I plan to find a way to get you on the range. Til then, Huruma will probably teach you some self defense." Seems Delia will be started her very own training soon. "You need to be prepared in case…." He glances out into the hallway, lips pressing together. There is a hesitation before he adds, "In case we are not around to protect you."
Two red eyebrows draw together into a sharp vee on Delia's forehead and she purses her lips worriedly. "The range?" She pauses and looks around the apartment, to the pictures on the wall and focuses on the one in the middle. "And what do you mean you're not around? Like not around for good or not around like before? Because I can run away." She's always been good at running away, physically and emotionally. Just like her father.
Jamming her hands into her pockets, the young woman draws the corners of her lips downward and lets her eyes drift to her feet. There's a hole developing in the right foot of her old sneakers, so she wiggles her big toe to hook into it. "Whatever, I'll just… I should go get some work done, to pay for my keep."
"The firing range… and if they get me, Lia. You know it's a possibility."It's something that hangs over their heads heavily. Ryans doesn't say much of anything else, just shoos her off to talk to Lynette about that list.