Participants:
| Scene Title | Thank Yous |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Unexpected visits, pie and tea; both of them say 'thank you' too much. |
| Date | January 18, 2011 |
Solstice: Joanna's Home
It's early in the afternoon still, and Nocturne Ziadie shifts from foot one foot to the other, looking at the door in front of him. It takes several minutes, though, before he raps sharply on the door, and then he waits.
He's cleaned up a little, with khakis and what seems to be a well-pressed brown shirt, a tan wool cardigan, and a worn but serviceable dark wool peacoat as well as the usual grey scarf. Nonetheless, showing up at the door of someone he only knows by acquaintance is not his favourite thing to do.
No housekeeper to answer the door, no daughter and no cases means that Joanna's answering the door. No need to lean against a parking meter today, she's either doped up to functionality or it's another good day. Likely the latter. Ziadie can't hear the footsteps behind the door but it's safe to say that he was spy'd on through a peephole. Only one of the two condos that take up the second floor of the condominium building, there's locks being undone and eventually the door opened so that Joanna can look with a little bit of surprise to see Ziadie on the other side.
"I suppose that I should say that I am quite surprised to see you here."
Ziadie nods. "I suppose you would be." He leans on his cane. "I usually…" the older man pauses and trails off for a moment. "I wouldn't drop by unexpectedly, but…" he trails off again. How to put this, how to put this. "I've been trying to find a few things out, and one of my buddies on the force suggested you might know."
"Please, come in. I was about to have a piece of pie that a friend dropped off. My daughters not here so I can't possibly eat it all by myself" Joanna steps back, ensure there's enough room for Ziadie to come on in. "I don't know what I might be able to help you with, but you can ask and I'll see what I can do"
Once again, Ziadie nods. "Thank you." He glances behind him as he steps in. "Quite possibly better that we don't talk in the doorway, as well." The older man seems haggard and tired as he walks, leaning heavily on a cane — not his cane, but a simple metal one with a curved handle, more towards the standard adjustable cane than everything else. Then again, he hasn't slept since some point yesterday. Once he's stepped inside, he relaxes visibly, a bit of the tension out of his stance.
Well appointed home, lived in but not messy. Everything in it's place and well thought out. In one corner of the living room, art supplies, canvases and painting occupy it. "Pardon the mess, my daughters been going to Parsons and she's overtaken part of the place. Would you like to take a seat while I get the pie?" and tea. It's a given there will be tea.
"Thank you." Ziadie takes one of the proffered chairs, and leans against his hands briefly. He's thinking, that much is clear. "Since I got back to town, I've been … seeing how much things have changed," he says. "But what I'm trying to figure out is how certain things fit into that change. Specifically …" Once again, Ziadie pauses, and instead watches Joanna quietly. "Hell, this sounds stupid. Robots."
"Robots?" Joanna is a few minutes, combing back with pie on plates sitting on trays and tea in cups. "I'm afraid that I have not a clue what you're talking about about Mr. Ziadie." And she doesn't, Joanna is oblivious and telling the truth. "What about robots and why do you think I would know about them?"
A brief frown crosses Ziadie's face. "It sounds ridiculous even to me," he admits, picking up the tea. "Sounded ridiculous." He sips the tea. "Robots, robots that look and move like strange, huge metal animals." He pauses, coming to the part that sounds even worse, at least when he was saying it over in his head. "In Midtown."
It's sounding very much yes, like old age senility truth be told and Joanna regards him as if it's quite possibly such. "Did you see one?"
Ziadie rubs his temples with his hands. "Yes, in fact." He pauses, taking a small bite of the pie. "I saw one." He shoves his hands into his pocket. "I was out too late, and figured I could make it home faster if I cut across Midtown. I had … been across a few times, before." He watches Joanna's reaction carefully. Really, the older man is utterly serious about this, and seems generally as sharp as he was on Sunday, if more tired.
"Maybe some university students were testing out a project in the ruins?" She hasn't been privy to the rumors that are starting to abound. It makes sense to her. University students testing out a prototype in the ruins. ample room to send out a robot and not worry about people messing with it. "What did it looks like?"
Ziadie sighs. "I can only hope so." He takes another small bite of pie. "Catlike, almost," he says. "About seven feet tall, or so." He pauses, perhaps considering his wording. Or maybe just that it's better to omit the part about shooting the thing. "There was a yellow gas around it, too. Got some on me by accident. Not a clue in hell what it was, though." Another pause, and Ziadie sips the tea. "Listen, Ms. Renard," he says. "Thank you. It … I know it sounds crazy. I was a cop for thirty-five years, we dismissed people talking about robots to being off their rockers." And listened to them, and then sent them home. "So."
"We also didn't think that people could fly, manipulate the weather, turn into… electricity. But here we are and my ex can turn into vapor. Well he says technically he's a vapor. I point out that he's technically an asshole" Joanna picks up her own plate of pie. "Why did you come to me about this though? I'm just a D.A. Have you gone to some of your friends that still remain on the force?"
Ziadie laughs, a bit. "True, there." He turns his fork over in his hands. "They suggested I … look elsewhere." The fork is put down and the tea is picked up again. "They suggested that if they were to look into it, they'd find themselves without finding nothing at all." There's a note of disdain in his voice. "And the other suggestion was that I inquire … quietly."
Joanna's quiet for a moment, likely going through things in her head. Who could she send him to? Not the cops, they told him to look elsewhere. She didn't know many people in homeland or the FBI or even the DoEA now that Vincent was on the run.
But.
"Have you ever heard of RedBird Security?"
Ziadie nods. "Haven't, no. Not really." He takes another bite of the pie. "This pie is good, by the way. Thank you for sharing." He sighs, and rubs his temples with one hand. This time, it's possibly Ziadie that's not doing so well, but he's trying his damnedest not to show it.
"I'll give you their business card. Ask for an appointment with Richard Cardinal. I have him trying to find a man for me, but I have been told that they specialize in a great many things beyond just security." Out comes Joanna's hand, laying her palm on his forearm. "Do you need anything? Pie good or not, you look as well as I did the other day"
"Times like this I wish I could lie, even a little," Ziadie mutters under his breath. His arm is shaking, slightly. "Sleep, but that'll have to come later," he says. "Lots of it."
"I have a spare room, if you like. I'm just working in my own room so I wouldn't be bothering and it wouldn't be a bother," Joanna offers. "You can stay for a meal if you like. Usually take out since my daughters not home and it can get.. well, sometimes it's too quiet."
Ziadie nods. "Thank you," he says, quietly, the last bite of pie then entering his mouth. "I haven't been home yet." He does look tired. "Met a few of my buddies still on the force for breakfast, have … had too much to do. I'm … I'm not as young as I used to be," he admits.
"Then please, I insist. You came all the way up here and I know the precinct is all the way down on the southern part of the island, I insist. You can even take pie with you when you go. I'll make sure to give you Mister Cardinal's card before you go. I have to visit him too as well. See how the search is coming along."
"I'm staying in Harlem at the moment, so it was … as close to on the way as anything," Ziadie says. "Again, thank you." The older man leans on his hands once again, but the weariness is also now weariness of accomplishment, rather than anything else.
"How about we stop with the thank yous. I think between the two of us the last few days, we've said it more than enough." Joanna smiles, tucking dark hair behind an ear and starting to gather the plates. She'll show him back to the spare room with it's adjacent bathroom. Take out later for the both of them.
