Participants:
| Scene Title | The Job Market |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | There seem to be a lot of people seeking new job opportunities, Cardinal finds, when he checks up on Lola and recieves an interesting phone call. |
| Date | Oct 8, 2009 |
Cheap Apartment, Red Hook
The little one bedroom is hardly what one would call fancy, stellar, or even comfortable. But it's dry, it's in Red Hook, and no one knows that Lola is here. She's taking advantage of that fact. Sure, she snuck out last night to meet a certain someone and to reclam a few of the items she'd hdden around the city before going into hiding, but she's back now, laying curled up on the sofa with a trash can and a glass of water next to her.
The puking has mostly stopped, it happens whenever she eats something a bit too acidic, though. So getting pizza while she was out probably wasn't the wisest thing she's ever done, but she learned her lesson. She's a bit more perked now, having had a decent, quiet night's rest right here, in those same jeans and sweatshirt they left her in when they dropped her off. And she's…she's humming. How very odd.
There's no rattle of a key in the lock. Cardinal's never been one for knocking or doors, and his safest homes don't even have the latter. A shadow passes through the apartment to check on things, then slides back near to the door once more, boiling upwards to form the man that he is. He cracks his neck, and calls out easily, "How's it going?"
The silance of a shadow does not inform Lola that there is a presence. But the sight of one does. She pauses in her humming, sitting up a bit on her elbows and blinking. "Huh," she murmers, registering the man's ability with little more than that. There's really no telling anymore with people these days. "Uhm…" She rubs her eyes, face still somewhat pale. "Fine, I spoze…puked up my supper but I'm in a lot better way than I was when I got on the morphine." She expected all hell ot break loose when she came down. It hurts, but it's not like it was before. "There's some pizza in the fridge. Meat lovers, if yer hungry."
"As appetizing as the thought of puke is, I think I'll pass," replies Cardinal in someewhat-dry tones, meandering along over towards the sofa and raking his fingers back through his hair; less muddy and wet than he was the previous day at least. Stopping near where she's curled up, he admits, "I can't get a hold of the old man, he might be out helping the disaster recovery, or… fuck, I don't know, hijacking drug shipments or somethin'."
"He sounds like a peach, yer old man," Lola murmers with a smirk, reaching down and lifting an open two liter of ginger ale, taking a hit off of it. "Though the more ya talk 'bout him, more he seems like that fellah that was gettin' his ass whooped when I got shot. Masked fucker was goin' on and on an on to him about cocaine and drugs and shit knows what else." Lola, ever the polite hostess, manages to curl up a bit so she's only taking up 2/3 of the couch instead of the whole thing, leaving Cardinal a nice sectioned cushion to sit on. "I swear a lot more'n usual when I'm hurtin, I'm slowly noticin' that."
"No shit?" A sarcastic query, as Cardinal slides his ass onto the arm of that side of the couch, one knee resting up on the cushions as he perches there, his head shaking slowly from side to side, "It was probably Deckard, then. Go fuckin' figure, he gets his ass shot a lot. Sometimes I think he enjoys it."
Lola reaches over to the table, nudging over some cups and a few other things - she's made a little mess, but at least it's contained. Easily, she hands over a napkin with one sketched face on it. It's perfect - like when you take a camera image on a computer and make it into a pencil image. It shows, flawlessly, Deckard grimmacing in pain. "That him?" She asks, sitting up and bringing her knees up to her chest.
Cardinal leans forward, canting his neck a bit to observe the sketching— after a few moments, his brows go up a bit, impressed with the design. "That's him," he admits, leaning back with a bemused expression, "What, you have the Evolved power of photographic drawing or some shit?"
Lola raises a brow curiously, tilting her head to look back at the image. "Huh? I dunno, I thought every body could do this," She says, shrugging and tossing the sketch aside. "So, listen sug, it's not that I ain' grateful fer what yer doin' fer me an all, but I gotta ask - how come yer helpin' me? If yer hidin' me from old English an ya know him, chances are ya don' like him. What's up with that?"
"You've got information I want," Cardinal replies with a shrug of one shoulder, settling in his perch on the sofa's arm and quirking a faint, wry smile back to her. Those shades are worn again, hiding his eyes and heart from her view. "About the killer, at the least. As for Monroe…" He smirks, "…I've occasionally done work involving him, and we trade information once and awhile, but I'm not very fond of him, no. He's a psychotic asshole who once tried to kill everyone in the world."
There's no reaosn Lola shouldn't be a little bit nervous. And blunt. "So what exactly would it take ta trade me ta him if he came askin? Not that I think he would, mind ya, but if I'd never been wrong in my life we wouldn' be havin' this real pleasant conversation. As fer the information about the killer, like I told ya that's yers when ya want it. Right curious 'bout why yer intersted in that though too, if ya don' mind my askin. You don' look like a cop oughta."
At the mention of police, Cardinal's lips twitch, a half-chuckle spills in a shaky exhalation through his nose. "No," he grins then, one hand scratching at the side of his head, "I'm far from bein' a fucking cop. Got more warrants to my name than I know what to do with. Guess I could wallpaper the place." His hand drops back down to the back of the couch, and he glances after it, admitting, "There's a lot of shit going down in the city, the world right now. Someone's got to keep an eye on it, and deal with problems as they come up. If there's some Evo serial killer, well, that'd be one of those problems. Although after the other night… fuck."
Lola nods, resting her back against the arm of the sofa. "I coulda killed him," She admits, almost shamefully. "But…I tried callin teh cops, callin' someone. I can' just…kill someone like that, ya know? Not without knowin' or without someone sayin' it's alright. Or it's right, even. Cops or…I dunno. Someone smarter'n me. So…I'll just let ya do with him as ya please, I suppose." She raises a brow at Cardinal agian, her mind moving on. "So are you one a them God-folk do-gooders?"
Cardinal can't help but laugh at that one, softly, his head shaking slowly at that. "No, although the nuns would probably get pissed at me to hear me say it— no, not really that religious these days," he admits, one brow crooking up, "I'm just a two-bit thief that learned too much along the way. Conspiracies, lies… there isn't much that goes on in the city anymore that I don't hear about. And somebody's got to do shit about it, or the whole god-damn world's going down the shitter. That's where me'n my people come in."
Lola takes another hit off the bottle of ginger ale. "Right," he's one of those do-gooders. Lola tried that. Got strangled. Then got shot. "I tried that once. Worked out okay the first time, dead killer an all. Second time…not so much." She curls her arms around the bottle. "So…we probably oughta talk 'bout logistics an stuff, right? I mean…how long kin I stay here? Am I allowed ta leave?" Not that she hasn't snuck out already. "All a that stuff."
"Long as you want, really, I don't use this place anymore," Cardinal admits carelessly, "And I'm not keeping you prisoner here. Door ain't locked from the outside, or anything. Adam hasn't sent any killers after you, though I'd avoid running into him personally, I think you hurt his feelings. Not sure what Daniel'll do, he's hard to predict at the best of times, unless you count 'being a huge dick' as a prediction."
He shakes his head a little, then, "It's about more'n just killing the occasional killer. You've got to think bigger than that. But, anyway. So tell me about this asshole."
"Which asshole, the killer asshole?" She asks, looking to the table. She reaches through some paper plates and pulls out another napkin - this one much more crumpled, and a cell phone. The napkin is handed over first, and the drawing on it is just as accurate as the one of Deckard - perhaps moreso, since she saw him twice. In the meantime, she goes through her pictures to find an image of Diogenes, standing over a man on Staten. Both images show Diogenes being the same man. "That's him. An' he's evolved. Creepy-so…he can make it so ya stop movin'. Can't move at all, just gotta lay there while he…whatevers. Also made my arm stop takin' my morphine when I was in the hospital."
The pictures are looked over one at a time, set carefully on the cheap-ass coffee table, and then Cardinal looks up with a tight frown. "Some sort of… muscular control, or something? Blood vessels… well, that's pretty fuckin' creepy. You got a name for this guy?"
Lola shakes her head. "Naw, never got close enough to pinch his wallet. But he weren' from Staten, that much I can tell ya. He were dressed way too nice. I don' know if it's blood vessels, but it was somethin' with my muscles. It was like I was just layin there, an I was tellin' my body to move but it wasn't. Not even a flinch, I couldn' even feel my muscles gettin' the message to move."
"I'll have my contacts in the NYPD run the face through their database," Cardinal allows, lips pursing in a frown, "I wish I could get my hands on the registry, but I imagine that he's probably not registered… could be one've the Moab escapees, I can show it to shard…" Then his phone bleeps a few times, and he reaches in to pick it up, "Redbird here."
On the phone, Jet err's for a moment. 'Uh… Cardinal?'
"You need a new catchline," Lola hisses to him, sitting back on the sofa and curling her arms around her knees, waiting to hear what goes on during htis phone call. She's not polite enough not to listen, obviously!
"Speaking," Cardinal chuckles faintly at whatever's said on the other end of the phone, rolling his eyes at Lola's hissed words.'It's… Jet. I don't know if you remember me. You were standing on the car.' The call causes his brow to furrow in bemusement, "In… the Rookery? Right. And at the tattoo parlor? You're the one with the weird friend. What's up?"
Lola gets bored, easily. After chugging the rest of that ginger ale she starts to peel off the label, ripping it away in strips and letting each strip flutter away onto the floor beside the sofa. She sighs, turning her attention to gaze idly out of the window.
'Right. Hey… I've heard about you on the streets… and since you never got back to me with a job… thought I would call…" A beat, "I want to help your cause. I hear that Ash is trying to recruit as well, but… you're new. Or something.'
Cardinal hesitates for a moment, his frown deepening as he leans back a bit, phone still in his hand, "Well, you never really told me what you can do, Jet. Who's Ash? The name sounds familiar…"
Lola snorts out the last bit of ginger ale, sitting up like a shot. "Works for Adam, works for Adam!" She starts to hiss quickly and lowly to Cardinal, almost right in his ear just in case he can't hear her from two feet away. "Hates cops, kinda scary, works for Adam!"
'Ashley, is of your type of people. And maybe I can do nothing, Cardinal. Either way I'm offering to help you.'
As she leans over, Cardinal turns his head to listen to her words, thumb sliding over the speaker to keep the other end from hearing Lola's hissed words. Then he nods, making a thoughtful sound as he returns to the phone, "Maybe so, maybe not. Well, why don't I give you a call when I've got some free time, and we can discuss things? I can always use more people on my side." 'Very well. My number is number. Do you want Ash's number?', "Sure, that'd be great." He gestures for the pen and a napkin.
Lola can be helpful! Look, he can write on the back of Deckard's face! Here you go! She hands both over, and being particularly thoughtful, she scootches so that her back is facing him and her hair is out of the way for him to lean on while he writes. See? Helpful!
The napkin's rested on her back, and Cardinal scribbles down two lines with the phone tucked between ear and shoulder. "You too, hot stuff," he chuckles, drawing back and reaching up to click the phone closed, turning it over to regard it thoughtfully, "Well, well. Isn't that interesting…"
"What is it about Ash?" She asks, turning to face him once more. "He weren' so bad, but he were particularly one a Adam's sort. He could be nice 'nuff till ya said somethin' the wrong way. Had his hand round my throat once too." Apparently Lola has this wonderful ability to piss people off.
"Aren't you Little Miss Popular?" Cardinal's brows leap up, and he tucks the napkin into a pocket of his coat, "I don't know. Was a girl I met once named Jet, she was lookin' for some work… said that this 'Ash' guy was recruiting too, gave me his number. You got a last name, anything else about either of them?"
Lola shakes her head. "Never heard a nobody named Jet, Ash…no, got nothin' else for him 'cept that. Oh, no wait, yes I do. He was in Moab," she remembers bits of a conversation she heard when she first met Adam and Ash. "The fellah that done collapsed the buildin, the Norman fellah? He knew Ash, don' know where from or what about, but he knew 'im."
At that, Cardinal nods just a bit. "A Moab escapee, then…" He rubs his thumb against the orbit of his eye, pressing back a headache as he grimaces, "…I'll have to run the name past King, or one've the others. What's his ability? Everyone in there had one…"
Lola shakes her head. She seems to actually have quite a bit of information, but all of it has a limit. "I couldn' tell ya, sugar. Never knew myself. Though if he's recruitin' for somethin, odds are either Adam's really behind it or Adam don' know much about it. That's just a guess though, I been wrong. Just…seems kinda off, ya know."
Cardinal's fingertips drum against the side of the couch, gaze drifting to the barred, curtained window and lingering there thoughtfully. "Kaylee," he asks, suddenly, "Blonde. Telepath. Works for Monroe. You know her?"
It doesn't take Lola but a moment or two to answer. She just nods, sweeping a loose bit of hair back behind her ear as she looks over Cardinal curiously. "Sure," she answers. "Seemed less up-tight than most of 'em, but more like she didn' know what the hell she was doin' there. Apparently Adam's like a father to her." She sighs, remembering being among all of them. But she shakes her head, pushing the images back and away.
"Not anymore," Cardinal replies in dry tones, glancing back to her, "My contacts tell me that she's on the run from him too— which is interesting. If Monroe doesn't know what this Ashley guy is up to, then his little group might be falling down around his ears."
This causes Lola's brows to raise. "Is she alright? That seems strange, I can't imagine why she'd be running from him. She was very attached to him, as I recall…" She shakes her head once more, sitting back and biting on her thumbnail as she thinks. "Do you know why?"
"I'll have to stop by wherever they have her holed up and ask," says Cardinal with a wry half-smile, "I've met her a few times, just socially really, not with Adam around. I didn't know they were even connected until a couple days ago."
Lola nods, curling back agianst the sofa and letting out a soft yawn. "Be nice to her. She seems kinda…nieve, ya know. Like she doesn't really get what's going on. Which is weird, when you think about a telepath…" she shakes her head, dismissing the thought.
"She didn't really seem the type to be around him, no… but he's good at fooling people," Cardinal presses a hand to the couch, pushing himself up to his feet and offering her an easy smile, "Get some sleep, Lola. I'll check in on you again tomorrow."
Lola doens't appear to need much coaxing, and she rolls onto her good side, her back to Cardinal as she yanks up her hood in order to stay warm while she snoozes. Her hands, formed like she were praying, tuck under her skull and she curls her knees up in a fetal position. She may very well manage to be asleep before he's even left the apartment. But maybe not. "An doncha think 'bout doin' that wall-walkin' sneaky shit when I'm in the shower or nothin!"
Cardinal turns away from the sofa, heading back in the direction of the door as her words bring a chuckle up past his lips. "I'll start thinking about you as female after you stop puking your guts up, so no worries there, babe," he calls back dryly, "'Night."
