Participants:
| Scene Title | The More You Know |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Homemade cookies, homemade education. |
| Date | March 14, 2018 |
In the lounge, classical music echoes off walls as the room is mostly empty. It's Mendelssohn, if one knew the difference. Or looked at the phone sitting on the table next to Berlin. She has a book open on her lap, fingers tapping to the music as if it were the latest catchy pop song. It's the most epic study session that has ever been.
The book on her lap is a text book. Pages all over the book are marked with slips of paper or a sheet of notes or whatever she could find to keep the interesting bits easily accessible.
Enter Devon.
Unaware of the study session that might be going on, he's decided to present himself in the lounge with a box. There's a questioning look on his face, not for the box which is decorated in crayon scribbles and child-like doodles, but for the music. And Berlin. And the textbook. He watches her for a solid minute, half way between the doorway and a free table, then makes the sharp turn to approach her while opening the box.
Homemade cookies inside!
"Might need one," Dev offers, holding the box out to her. "Or your brain will melt out of your ears. What're you studying?"
One of the cookies lifts out of the box, the one Berlin eyed first, and it floats in front of Devon and then drifts away. A bite just disappears from it, then another, then the entire cookie except for a few crumbs just hovering in the air. Devon feels a slight weight on his shoulder next, as the familiar form of Colette Demsky comes fading into view like a blotchy watercolor speed-painting.
"That was real sweet of you," Colette offers with a side-eye to Devon. She has one arm propped up on his shoulder, leaning on him like a post. Blind eyes then flick over to Berlin, one brow raised. "He got me cookies," she admits in far better spirits than she was the last time Berlin saw her. "Least you can do is answer him. It's the polite thing to do."
Berlin tips her head to look up at Devon, and then she looks down to the box. It's intriguing to say the least and she even sits up a bit. Just in time to see the cookie she was about to grab float of and get itself eaten. She gives the living watercolors a sidelong glance. "They're obviously not for you, it's too late for your brain."
Turning back to Devon, she gives him a crooked smile. "Thank you," she notes more sincerely as she takes a cookie. And a bite. "The Polish resistance," she says, although it's hard to make out around her mouthful of cookie. "It's a collection of letters and communications that were saved or found," she adds once she's swallowed, "Kinda cool." It's an understated compliment. And then she eats the other half of the cookie.
A squinty eyed look follows the floating cookie, then Devon's own brows tick upward when it's Colette who comes into view. "Help yourself," he says to her with a smirk. "Maybe it'll make her brains re-solidify." That's directed at Berlin, as he sidesteps out of being used as a post. "But seriously, help yourselves. They're from home."
He crosses to the table he'd planned to visit earlier. That's where the box of cookies finds a place to rest, open for the taking. "Second World War? That's deep, all the layers that perpetuated just the build up to the war. You doing that for any reason or just …light reading?"
Taking Devon up on his offer and helping herself to one more, Colette then circles around to settle on the arm of the sofa beside Berlin, crossing one leg over the other and dangling one booted foot in a bobbing rhythm that matches Berlin's finger tapping. "You know," she looks down at the text book, "half of that's probably incorrect." One dark brow raises, and as Colette flicks a look back at Devon, she takes another bite from the second cookie.
"But why even bother with that stuff when we have Francois," said in the thickest, most affected French accent that he absolutely does not have, "around, right? I mean, Allegre's literally been in that war. I— don't know if I totally believe it still, but, I mean we've all seen some shit." Cookie already half finished, Colette wrinkles her nose and turns her attention back to Berlin expectantly.
Before the cookies go away to the table, Berlin grabs a couple more to hoard before she settles back into her spot. "I'm working my way backwards through world history. Well, as best I can, anyway. This is how far I've gotten," she explains to Devon, between bites.
Colette has a good point and it gets a sigh out of Berlin. "You could say that about any history book. Stuff goes missing or gets misinterpreted. Sometimes on purpose." In any case, she closes the book and sets it off next to her phone. "Allegre doesn't need me asking him for a history lesson every time I see him," she says, a frown coming to her face. Berlin is always a little weird about their resident Ancient. Sometimes she seems fascinated and sometimes she seems to not want to even look in his direction. Maybe she doesn't know if she believes it, either. "But hey, if he writes a textbook, I'd read it." She looks over at Colette, propping her arm up on the back of the couch. "Is it so hard to buy it? It can't be any weirder than time travel or someone going invisible to steal cookies."
"I wouldn't count it as wrong, just the opinions of the authors and editors." Devon pulls out a chair and turns it to face the two women on the couch. "That's basically what you'll find in those books. Read enough, you'll form your own opinions and ideas of what happened back then based on what publishers you focused your research on. But you can't really know for certain it's the way you say because you were there. —Unless you're Francois."
Dev takes a seat on the chair, folds his arms against his chest. "Gets more interesting the earlier you go. But why are you studying? Funsies?"
Leaning her back against the couch from her perch on the arm, Colette looks over to Devon. "I still do that in my spare time. Never finished High School, so filling in my massive education gaps is kind of a big deal for me. Some of it's practical, but…" her attention drifts down to the book. "I guess some of it's dry too." Her brows raise, attention drifting between the two. "If either of you wanna buy some college science textbooks, uh, I've got a few. All the pages on light and stuff might be a little highlighted and dog-eared."
Berlin points at Devon, "Right. You have to keep in mind who is writing it, when they wrote it, who they were writing it for, all that good stuff. Multiple sources. Usually you can sift out the dross." The girl seems content to let Colette answer for her, since she nods along to her friend's words. "I don't think it's dry. I think it's great," she says, her eyes flicking over to her phone as the song changes. It's Bach this time. "We're all products of what we experience, what we know. So many things change us. I want to have a hand in that." Which might be why she brightens up when Colette mentions more textbooks. "Really? You want to trade for some very high quality romance novels?"
"I'm not trying to say there's something wrong with it." Devon holds up a hand kind of defensively. He really wondered why the choice to study. "It's good to know things like that, gives us knowledge to shape our futures…" Colette's claim gives him pause and his brows furrow. "I didn't know. Guess I kind'f assumed… I'm sorry."
Lifting a hand in the air, Colette makes a dismissive gesture. "S'olright, lot'f people had it worse." With a wrinkle of her nose, Colette seems reluctant to agree with Berlin's point about history at first out of simple stubbornness. But the more she thinks about it, the truer it resonates with her. For a while, Colette is silent as she stares off into the middle distance, just past the table Berlin's phone sits on. Her brows lunch together for a moment there, then blind eyes flutter and she looks over to Devon. Thoughtful, Colette looks down to then nearly finished cookie in her hand.
They're from home, Devon had said. Colette breathes in deeply and turns the cookie around in her fingers, then brings it up to her mouth and finished it off. She looks up to Devon, then over to Berlin, expression a touch more serious.
"Either'f you ever gone… to the Brick House memorial? Or the wall down in the bay in the Safe Zone?" All this talk of history has reminded her of more personal history. More recent.
"It's not a big thing," Berlin says, echoing Colette there. She doesn't echo the part about with people having it worse, though. "No harm, no foul. All that. Plus, the cookies make me predisposed to forgive you," she says with a smile, maybe to try to make him feel better.
She looks over at Colette when she gets quiet, and she reaches a hand over to squeeze her arm. Just a little. The question gets a curious look. "Um. No. I haven't made it to the new library, either. I mean to, it's just… far. You know?" It's super far, Colette, don't you know?
"If… if either of you need help understanding the science or math or whatever." The offer is in earnest. Devon kicks himself all the same over ridiculous assumptions. Ass. He nods when Berlin answers about the memorials. "I've seen the wall. I didn't make it to the library opening."
"Thanks, Devon…" Colette offers in a hushed voice, affording him a brief look and an awkward smile. But with teeth worrying at her lower lip, Colette nods in belated agreement to Berlin. "It… is really far," implies that she's not made it to either. "I… I hit the library opening up. Fucking, not my best moment." Sweeping one hand up the side of her face, she rakes the ragged fringe of her bangs from her eyes. "I was a mess. It was— still too soon." Then, brows furrowed she looks down to the floor. "I used t'help run the Brick House. I can still see it when I close my eyes. I— wonder if that's how Francois," no affected accent this time, "sees… everything?"
There's no humor in her tone now, just respect for the ancient.
"You might regret that. How are you at medical jargon?" Berlin gives him a sidelong look, like she might be planning on making him regret the offer quite soon.
But her expression falls again when she listens to Colette. "Hey. I'm sure no one had their finest hour that day. No one there." She starts to reach over for her again, but stops. And drops her hand back to her lap. She glances away, her finger tapping going off beat. It would be nice to have her book in hand still, to have something to look at. But she doesn't, so she picks a spot on the wall to focus on. "There are things you don't forget. He's been through war after war." So, her answer seems to be… yes. Her best guess. "Maybe you should talk to him," she says, swinging her attention back to the others. "I mean, he seems pretty together."
Devon's mouth opens with a slow reply, then closes without forming any words. He stands and claps Colette lightly on the shoulder, in lieu of saying anything. Actions speak louder than words, and he knows what she's talking about, so he reaches out with silent understanding.
A couple of seconds later, he's retreating. "My mom was a doctor," he says over his shoulder, replying to Berlin. "Seriously, though." He pauses at the door to the hall. "You guys want help studying… Or… Anything. Talk about the shit we've been through. Just ask."
Colette eyes Devon's hand on her shoulder, lifting one of hers up to rest atop it. "Thanks, Dev." As her hand slips away, she looks down and over to Berlin. After a moment, she slides down on the couch beside her — wedging herself between Berlin and the arm of the sofa — and looks over to the book she was reading. Colette crosses one leg over the other, hands folded at a knee.
"You know what, I think it'd be easier listening to it all from you." There's a hesitant smile, and Colette gestures in the air as if parting a curtain. "Teach me about something you read…"
Lips curl into a smirk. "But make it interesting."