Participants:
| Scene Title | The Monroe Detective Agency |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A convergence of a handful of people after curfew hours, yields a possible contact, a mixing of the good and not so good and gracious manners long since forgotten by the rest of the world. |
| Date | April 22, 2009 |
Central park - Belvedere Castle
Constructed from the same stone as the Vista Point which supports it, Belvedere Castle seems to rise out of the earth itself. The miniature Gothic castle is easily visible from a distance, courtesy of both its height and the American flag fluttering from the turret's pinnacle. Its windows overlook views of Turtle Pond, the Delacorte Theater, and the Great Lawn. The interior, however, is anything but Gothic; the halls on both floors are filled with telescopes, microscopes, paper-mache birds, skeletons, and feathers, all laid out as parts of an interactive exhibit. In the Henry Luce Nature Observatory, visitors can borrow binoculars, notepads, maps, and guidebooks with which to study the wildlife of the park.
Adam has his hands on a railing in the turret. He appears to be in a rather relaxed state as he leans over to get a view of the darkening park. His air gets ruffled a bit by a wind and he reaches up to stroke his hair back. "Ah." he says to himself, "What an enjoyable view."
Nothing is closed when you are made of morally deviant fibers. Locks, gone. Chains, stepped over. Et cetera. Having escorted Abby to the park to locate a missing piece of property, Huruma afterward simply has allowed her to tag along for the rest of the time she is there- which happens to include a meeting of her own. In relative quiet, the African leads Abby the entire way up the castle steps, despite there having been a strung up block-off down below.
Just in time to catch the tail end of his words, the taller of the women is there first, though she has not looked physically back for Abigail since they reached the construct. "If it were not such a muggy day, per'aps it woul'be moreso." Sunsets are not as nice when they are covered in clouds- unless said clouds happen to turn fiery colors. Right now, they are simply an overcast orange.
Abigail's lagging behind. Not as nimble this moment as Huruma, nor so good at walking in the dark. She's not night blind, she sure as hell isn't that great. Key's really suck if you loose them, and it was her keys that somehow in the hubbub of earlier that day, she'd lost. It was sheer chance and a wing and a prayer that they found them after about fifteen minutes. But she's trying to avoid going home just yet and while the bar is an option, she's not about to traverse the park alone. So the redhead tagged along with Huruma after having gained permission. She doesn't hear Adam's words, but she hears the black woman's as about ten footsteps later, the redhead comes into view.
Adam mmms a bit, taking a breath of air and says, "You can make anything beautiful. Sure, the air may be a bit stuffy and it might be a bit cloudy out, but it's not a white wall and processed air, yeah?" he leans back a bit and turns towards Huruma and then the girl behind her. He arches a brow, "Oh, and who's this you've brought along with you?" he offers to the girl, "You know, some people say red hair is a sign of good luck."
"Adam.." the soft singsong voice calls out and a dark figure can be seen behind Huruma and Abby. The figure's light grey eyes flick over Abby and Huruma but they stare intensely at the blonde man. The samurai she dreamed of before the Primatech raid and now.. has been dreaming of him again.
Her long midnight black hair blows in the wind as she makes her way forward. Wearing a long black dress with long slits up the side for easy movement along with black leggings and boots. The singer tilts her head at the group of people.
She moves towards the wall and trails her fingers along the stone, "Samurai.. samurai.. where is your blade?"
"Touche." One word is all that Huruma needs to affirm what Adam says. She wanders closer to the edge of the turret, white eyes flickering down and pausing there for a few moments. "This is Abigail. She is quite lucky."
When Huruma turns herself back around again, leaning on the wall, the woman's focus lands behind Abby in the shadows from where they had come. The motion is met just as Eve's voice creeps out of the dark to regard them; by the time that the gray-eyed woman is reciting her lyric, Huruma's own figure has gone from rather relaxed all the way to tensed to spring. Though a venom burns behind her lips, the African says nothing- but the subtle flare of her nostrils does signal that she remembers Eve.
Abigail's hands clutch her key's in one hand, the strap of her messenger bag in the other. Eve supplies the name of the man, red hair shifting in the dark of night to look behind her. A bit of stiffness and tension at the appearance of Eve. unlike Huruma, there's no warning system for the former blonde. But seeing that it's eve, Abigail turns back to Huruma's late night rendezvous. "A pleasure to meet you Adam. I'm a.. friend of Huruma's" Friend? Well, that's how Abigail would define it. "She's right, I'm a very lucky woman. I would have probably burned through twenty rabbit's feet by now" Blue eyes glance over to the tall black woman. "Should I go step away for a bit?" aka, do you want/need privacy.
And Eve remembers Huruma, ah yes the underground tunnels. She smiles softly once she looks at Huruma closely. Her eyes twinkle. "You've been out in the nothingness." That is directed to Adam. Eve's gaze drifts to Abby, "I like the new do." She says with a faint grin and she still trails her fingers along the wall, walking closer to Adam.
Adam considers this sudden influx of people. He tilts his head to one side and then hops up on the railing. He leans back for a moment, almost teetering over the edge, but instead ends up sitting up straight, "Well, this is all an interesting convocation, yeah?" he glances at Huruma and her sudden tenseness, one hand slips up to her shoulder and tries to calm her gently, "We're all friends here, for now, yeah?" he turns towards Abby first, "Really? A lucky red head, well it's my lucky day then.." he motions her closer, then to Eve, he purses his lip in concentration and hmms, "I've seen you before…under the subway?"
Abby unfortunately does not get an answer until Adam motions her to come closer. Considering Huruma is unresponsive, she must take his answer as her own. As for the hand coasting over her shoulder, it does most of what it is intended to do; the woman's muscles relax again, but her eyes stay sharp. Huruma does not smile back- nor does she really find the dues to speak. The stranger is here for Adam's attention, after all. Instead of keeping her gaze on Eve now, Huruma relocates it to Abby and finally does beckon her over with a crooked finger.
Closer it is, further away from Eve. So around to the other side of the pair, closer to Huruma than Adam, the bar of his arm between her and the seer. "Evening Eve" The redhead falling silent. Around eve, things tend to get a little strange. She's either killed someone in the woman's presence, or been shot. And then there was the roller skating.
Adam watches Eve walk off and hmms, "Strange bird, that one." he says conversationally. He glances towards the other two now that the group has become more intimate. He leans back on the railing, then turns towards Abby, studying her quietly with a faint smile on his face, "So, tell me about yourself, lucky redhead…and how did you and Huruma become friends?"
Even though she knows that Eve will be keen on returning and speaking with Adam before long, for now Huruma takes the woman's sudden departure as a battle won. It is only mistrust, really. Huruma only seems to fully relax when things have died down, and Adam turns the conversation back to Abby.
"We met at work." And from there, Abby can take it.
"At Old Lucy's. She's the bouncer, I work behind the bar serving drinks with her for the last few months. We've.." Works a bar but can't be a day over barely legal if at all to drink. Abigail looks over to Huruma. "Well, if anyone gets a little grabby or too obnoxious, they find a shot glass embedded in their head" She's also bailed my ass out of interring in a warehouse, my own personal emotional numbing machine, the list could go on. "She keeps an eye out for me. Sorta.. another rabbits foot of sorts. She was helping me find my keys I dropped earlier, and i'm tagging along till she can walk me home" Becuase lucky redheads can only press their luck so much in a dark park after curfew hours.
Adam listens to this explanation, nodding appropriately. His head slips to one side and then he smiles, "At some point." he says to both Abby and Huruma, "You're going to tell me your name, yeah?" he lets out a chuckle, "It's only polite." he glances at Huruma in a sidelong manner, before looking back at Abby, "And what's a nice young woman like yourself doing working at a den of.." he pauses, "What was it you called it Huruma?"
"I don'remember. I called Staten Island a hive o'scum an'villainy…" Huruma's eyes quietly search the dimming sky as if it might have the memory. It does not. "Per'aps iniquity." Her lips purse, but she abandons the question. "She is our… moral support." Already leaning on the wall of the turret, Huruma's arms lean down to put elbows on the flat edge behind her, throat bubbling with a short laugh.
"Oh" She's sure that Huruma has said it already. But regardless the woman honey southern tones, colored with weariness flares to live in the dark air around them. "Abigail. Abigail Beauchamp. I work there because my boss pays very well, it incurs less men trying to touch me and truth be told, I enjoy it and have an understanding employer. It pays the bills in the end and keeps a roof over my head" Offering her hand a little hesitantly before extending it fully. Moral support though. Abigail looks over at Huruma, head tilted just enough and a shkae of her head. "Maybe. They call me the Nun. Everyone except for Huruma. And I'm not so much moral support right now as she is. But now I'm just blathering at the end of my leash so please, just, ignore me, I'm going to just go stand over there and watch out the window. Huruma had an appointment with you I suppose, before I asked to tag along" She's tired and thanks to Aaron, she's almost one would swear, like she was before Staten Island. That slightly innocent naieve perkiness.
Adam chuckles, "Ah, so you're the conscience of this fair city?" he asks Abby teasingly, "Well, that's good. People sometimes tell me I could do with one of those." he leans over and bumps Huruma as if including her in some private joke they share. As Abigail properly introduces herself, he seems extremely pleased, hopping off of the wall and bowing low and says, in a perfect Southern (probably something more like Georgian) accent, he takes Abigail's hand as she offers and kissing it properly, "Adam Monroe, pleased to meet you." he stands straight after such and continues to speak in this accent, "Hard to imagine a southern belle in these ruins off a city."
Maybe Huruma is current moral support- but the long term idea makes her lips curl into a smirk. It turns into a flashing white grin as Adam leans over to nudge her. She watches as he climbs back down to bow low to Abby and take the young woman's hand in his own. You can take a man away from a civilized world for thirty years- but you can never take civilization away from the man. "Abigail makes an excellent conscience. Sometimes…" With that, Huruma chuckles again, her dark voice surprisingly earnest.
"Except when I'm throwing flowerpots and .. jugs of beer" IT's murmured more under her breath. "I live by the lord as best I can" A heat to her cheeks when there's that bow and the taking of her hand. It's like a bygone era of chivalry and manners that even in the deep south there hasn't existed for years. "Really though, please, don't let me derail you both. I can go wait outside"
Adam stands in a flourishing manner, "Ah, Abby. I don't know that you're really interrupting anything. I'm looking for some new employees and Huruma's been on the lookout, perhaps you can even help." in fact, he puts an arm around Abby's shoulders and leads her to the railing so she's more a part of the group and hops back up onto it himself, his accent, by the way, returns to his normal British. He glances at Huruma expectantly, teasingly, "Any luck?"
"Not really." Though she had been laughing seconds ago, this response is taut and suddenly curt, and the African woman moves quite fluidly before little miss Nun pops Adam in the nose or something. Huruma's hands move out to draw Abby closer by her shoulders, keeping the girl facing Adam though attempting to pull her back up against Huruma instead. It is a possessive signal- a strange one, considering she has probably done similar with the man where Abby now stands. Role reversal time. This all must simply mean 'No Touching Allowed'.
Huruma can sense the emotional spike in Abigail before she even knows it's there herself. The tightening in her throat and stiffness under the mans arm. She wouldn't pop him in the nose, she has more manners than that, but there's strange look on the younger woman's face, though it fades a little once she's under Huruma's protective hold. More of an uncomfortable look chased by an apologetic one. "Hiring people for what?" Ignore what just happened, carry on, look away! Nothing to see here, just a minor radiation leak.
If Adam notices all the positioning and discomfort, he makes no indication towards it. Instead, he glances sideways out towards the pond. He lets out a bit of a breath towards Huruma's response. At Abigail's inquiry, he says, "Well, it's something like a detective agency." he says, "We'll be solving crimes of missing pies and broken vases." he looks thoughtful, "Perhaps the odd missing cat.." he pauses, questioning Abby, "Well, Ms. Beauchamp? Know anyone would make a good detective?"
Huruma puts her right hand to Abby's left shoulder, her forearm safe against the girl's upper back. A detective agency. Of all the parallels to come up with, that was his best one? A tiny smirk plays back on Huruma's features, out of Abby's sight. She says nothing, instead waiting for the redhead to answer.
One name springs to mind. "Richard Cardinal, maybe. He's good at finding lost and missing things" Huruma's bolstering Abby's courage. It is After curfew and she has had an interesting day. "Huruma would be better at finding better employees than I would, my social circle is limited" To you know.. terrorist, vigilantes, people who want to alternately kill her or lock her up.
Unsaid is that those may be the very people Adam is looking for, but Abby doesn't appear to be the portal to hiring guns. He smiles a bit, "Richard Cardinal? Alright then, that's a start." he smiles to Huruma, ah ha! success! He hops off the railing and says, "Well, it appears you were most helpful anyway Abigail Beauchamp." now having used several variations of her name. He pauses, "It's getting dark, isn't it. Are you supposed to be on your way home or something?"
"It's after curfew, I should. I try really hard to not break the law. I'm glad I could be of help though Mr Adam…" There's an offer of her hand to him, a wait for his last name since she never got it.
Adam smiles, taking the hand gently and squeezing it, "Monroe. Adam Monroe. I shouldn't keep you then." he glances towards Huruma, "I suppose you should get this belle home. I suppose I have a few names I have to track down then."
"Remembe'what I told you about poking around in th'wrong holes with sticks." Aka; If you're going looking, make sure to be prepared. New York is New York, and in some places more dangerous than one would think. A slow laugh comes next, and Huruma shifts to stand beside Abby, leaning closer to face Adam, a whisper just for him being put near his ear, inaudible to Abigail. Her face is serious for that short muttering, smirk gone.
'Adam Monroe" Abigail will commit it to memory and his face. The benefit of being a waitress and then bartender. But Huruma's leaning in for a whisper and so the Healer just dips her head to Adam, hands settled on the strap of her messenger bag, heading towards the exit so that she can linger there, give them privacy and wait for Huruma to teach her how to avoid the patrols home, Curfew and hopefully, any enterprising reporters.
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