The Girl With The Scarf


brennan_icon.gif daphne_icon.gif

Scene Title The Girl With The Scarf
Synopsis A Doctor and a Thief meet during a kandinsky exhibit.
Date December 19, 2009



Monkey see Monkey do. Fingers flicker, sign language used to communicate with the one girl at Brennan's side that is older than the other two. The twins are both there are well, one perched on her father's shoulders, chin resting atop his short shorn hair and staring at a sculpture. The other sitting on her mothers lap as Michelle sits in a wheelchair, leg up in it's cast.

No monkey paintings The conversation between the two flows quickly, and the twin girls ignore it save for the one perched above that gives a theatrical groan when she's jostled by her father. Who says that there isn't any. I bet if we look we could find some, Brennan signs back before Michelle gives a groan and a laugh at the flowing conversation.
An older looking woman, silvered hair and stately pushes the chair, Michelle's mother who's spending her last few days with them. "Harve Brennan. We are hungry and thirsty" A french accent thick from the older woman. "I will take Dessandra and Marlena with us to get food at the cafe, if you wish to continue with your perusing of the artworks with Genevieve?"

"That, Gabrielle, sounds delightful" Marlena paid attention and scoots off to be with her mother, sister and grandmother as the quartet head off to wherever the food will be leaving Brennan and Genevieve to do just that, keep perusing art.

Sitting on a bench in front of a Kandinsky painting, Daphne looks almost like a sculpture herself. It is one of the few times one can catch her still — when she is looking at a piece of art. She sits with her feet on the bench, arms wrapped around her legs, her chin propped on top of her knees as her dark eyes look up at the bright colored canvas. While the other museum patrons are mostly dressed in grays and blacks, the small speedster is almost but not quite as colorful as the painting, with her apple-green coat and green and pink striped scarf.

Her concentration is broken as the women, toddlers, and wheelchair all pass between her and the painting; her eyes flicker from them to the doctor and the older girl, then back to the painting.

"Lady has pink coat just like that one" spoken as precociously as only a 3 year old can while perched atop her mountain of a father. Of course, she points at Daphne over on the bench, craning in her perch to try and make her father understand, look, and pay attention to her. Brennan does just that, glancing towards Daphne and grins. "Yes Genie, she does, stop pointing, it's rude"

Daphne's brows arch as she's shaken once more out of her reverie. Peeking up through the corner of her eyes at the child, she then points back, fingers in fingerless gloves that are the same hot pink as the scarf. She will seriously have to reconsider the outfit, however, if someone named Lady matches her. "And who, pray tell, is Lady?" she asks, reaching up to push one lock of white-blond hair out of her eyes. "Some amazingly cool woman with a fabulous and impeccable sense of style, clearly?"

"Lady in the piiiicture. She's playing the music" Genevieve swivels atop shoulder to point to the painting, the lower right corner. "Can you see it? She just need a scarf" Assertive. yes, the woman in the painting needs the scarf.

"I apologize, she has a thing about talking to strangers" Brennan offers to Daphne.

"Oooh, I do see," Daphne says, getting up to look closer. "And she has hair kind of like me too, huh? But I don't know how to play a … clarinet? Trumpet? What the heck is that thing?" the speedster says, squinting a little, and making a motion in front of her as if to play the instrument. "All I can play is Chopsticks on the piano, and not very well at that." She grins at the little girl, then smiles at the father. "It's okay. I don't mind." She smiles back at Genevieve. "Which one is you?"

"Uhhhhmmm" An arm is draped across Brennan's head, hand getting in the way of his vision as she leans forward and point to a head covered figure, cradling a child near the center. "That's meeee! And my Mom" And then she's distracted by asking her father for a scarf, in fact, she wants scarf just like Daphne's. "I still have to apologize" He offers his hand out to Daphne. "Dr. Harve Brennan. This is Genevieve. Pleasure to meet you"

"She's not bothering me at all. In fact, it's nice to see someone this age appreciating art like she obviously does," Daphne says brightly. "Genevieve. That's a pretty name. Did you know that Saint Genevieve is the patron saint of Paris, my favorite city in the world?" she asks the little girl brightly. She puts her hand in Brennan's and smiles. "Daphne." Daphne, no last name. She doesn't feel like she's in any danger with these two, but extra information is given on a need to know basis only.

"Mom's from paree" pare-ree she calls it before wriggling about and demanding to be let down so that she can offer her own hand out to daphne. "Nice to meetchu" When Brennan does indeed let her down after shaking Daphne's hand. "Well, appreciating is good, enjoying better, loving art is the goal. Come here often?"

"All the museums I can," Daphne says, smiling at the little art patron's pronunciation of Paris. "I used to live there, too. It makes sense she named you Genevieve then, doesn't it?" She glances up at Brennan and shrugs. "I like Kandisnky. The Guggenheim's not my favorite, but you take what you can get, right? I'll get to the Louvre and D'Orsay sometime soon for my fill of the classics though. New York's good for modern anyway." She nods in the direction the rest of the family headed off in. "You got quite the gaggle there."

"If you want classics yes, you'll have to go oversea's. I imagine that a great many of the museums are loathe to lend anymore art for temporary or permanent exhibits lest they get destroyed" His gaggle though are out of sight and Genevieve is making herself acquainted with the ends of Daphne's bright scarf, carrying on a half conversation with herself about the colors and what colors she likes and how if she had a scarf like this blah blah blah. "But very worth, if you ever get the chance. Everyone should get the chance, and if they can't, well, local museums are good"

"I've been. I lived there for a few months. Loved it, but after the bomb, felt like I should come closer to home," Daphne says, laughing as she looks down at the little girl. She unloops the candy-striped scarf from her neck and drapes it around the small girls, bending down to do so. "I think," she says very, very solemnly, "that it looks better on you than me. What do you think?"

"I think that it is very generous but we couldn't. It's cold outside and she has her own and you will need yours." he lets Genevieve wear it for a few moments though, let her luxuriate in the feel. "I'm sure we can find her one just like it" He assures his daughter who pouts, fiddles with the ends before she unwraps them with her impossibly small hands and passes the scarf back over to Daphne. "Thank you miss"
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Daphne likewise makes a pout face at Genevieve, to show she is sorry for offering something that the little girl can't accept. "Sorry, Gen. It's maybe a tiny bit too long for you anyway, but I bet you could find one just like it. Or maybe even in better colors," she says conspiratorially before standing again, and giving a small, apologetic shrug and smile to the man for putting him in the role of the bad guy.

It's a role that he's used to. He's a dad. His hand is offered again to her. "We'll find her one. CHristmas is just around the corner. Maybe santa will bring one" At that, Genevieve's eyes light up at the thought of Santa bringing her a scarf just like that.

"Dream big, kid," she teases Genevieve and then gives a wave to the both of them. "Enjoy the rest of the exhibit. I just stopped in for a bit, but should probably go get my Christmas shopping done. Now that I'm filled up with bright colors and sunshine, I can stand to go back out in the cold for the rest of the day." She gestures to the sunny, happy Kandinsky paintings. "It was nice meeting you both," she adds, putting the scarf back around her own neck, with a flourish to toss it behind one shoulder for Genevieve's sake. Poor Brennan - the kid will probably be asking to bleach her hair and put it in dreadlocks, too.

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