Participants:
| Scene Title | The Name Game |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Devon seeks out Odessa looking for a name, and walks away possibly with a little more than he bargained for. |
| Date | May 12, 2011 |
The Gapstow Bridge sees foot traffic at all hours save curfew, which made it ideal for a meeting of two forces at odds with each other. It's quiet enough for conversation, busy enough that little could go wrong. The weather is fine, the sun shining down this morning and a few clouds hover in the distance, gray and considering mischief. A little more rain wouldn't be a bad thing. At the apex of the bridge, dressed in layered long sleeve under short sleeve tees of red and black in their respective order, a drab green jacket layered over that, blue jeans and Vans to complete the ensemble, Devon looks every bit a teenager out skipping class.
He leans against the safety wall with his back to the pathway, elbows resting on the stone surface that keeps people from accidentally falling into the waters below. His attention seems to be focused on the water running below the structure, eyes appearing to the light play off the rippling surface. Yet, every so often he glances up or down the path that runs behind him, watching the pedestrians pass and giving some little indication he could be waiting for someone.
From afar, Odessa Price watches the boy she's come to see critically. Crumpling the wrapper of a Snickers bar and tossing it into a trash bin, the woman wraps her arms around herself. If she had it her way, she'd simply appear (seemingly) at Devon's side and see if he jumps right out of his sneakers. Instead, her approach is mundane. One foot in front of the other, easily spotted in black, wide-cut trousers, matching vest over a pale yellow blouse. Green hightops.
She comes to lean next to him, lips slightly pursed, as though displeased with this meeting. She may be. "Clendaniel," Odessa offers not quite flatly, but impassive in her greeting. She takes another look around with her one good eye. Just because she hasn't spotted Eric Doyle doesn't mean he isn't there somewhere.
Was a time when Devon would tense and become instantly wary, not unlike a trapped animal despite how many escape routes he might have had. But he's grown past that now, regained solid footing in reality, and no longer startles easily. Still, his manner becomes guarded when Odessa shows herself, his eyes slanting toward her without him actually turning away from the water.
"You're not the easiest to track down," the teenager muses quietly. He watches her for a moment then flicks his eyes back to the water. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me. I was… surprised to see you at the photo exhibit, doing well. All things considered." Of Doyle's presence there's no mention. He hasn't seen the puppetmaster since the Dome came down. There's a small pause, in which Devon glances down in thought, then cuts to the chase. "I looked you up, because I want information."
"And yet, still too easily tracked, apparently." Odessa smiles sardonically at her own expense, tilting her head to give herself a better view of Devon from the corner of her eye. "You do realise I work for a clandestine organisation whose secrets I am not at liberty to discuss, don't you?"
White hair flutters in the breeze and Odessa tucks some of it behind one ear. "I don't know what you think happened…" Back at the Dome is left to be inferred by Devon. "But my motives were, and are more complicated than they may have appeared on the surface. I'm a woman very often misunderstood."
Odessa turns fully to regard the teenaged boy, dark amusement in her expression. "Ask me your questions, I'll tell you no lies."
"You should realize," Devon counters with a faint grin, an expression more cold than humorous. "That I couldn't care less what clandestine organization you work for. I have sources who've filled in the holes and brought me up to speed as much as I need to be for what I'm seeking. As for what happened." He turns slightly, continuing to lean against the wall but facing the woman none the less. A single brow raises slightly. "I'm certain I've figured out the ultimate goal he had in closing off an entire community."
Turning to put his back to the water, Devon's arms fold across his chest. "You apparently have good report with Mister Valentin. Or had good report. How do I find him?" There's no hesitation, and while it can be guessed that there's motive, no indication is really offered. His head turns slightly and that dispassionate gaze returns to Odessa.
He doesn't care? "Good. That's a nice change of pace." Sarcastic, but sans roll of eye. "So certain as all good little boys are." The former child prodigy, once so certain as all good little girls are, is unimpressed.
But he's asking after Michal, and that draws laughter. Soft and breathy. "And just why would I tell you that?" Odessa asks, her head dipped as she indulges the fleeting mirth. "Why should you want to know? You're registered." She checked. "And you can be sure he knows what you are. Just what do you think you're going to bring to the table to make a meeting with him worth his while?"
A single shoulder rolls up and down again, collected, unfettered by her apparent amusement. "Why shouldn't you tell me," Devon returns mildly. "You have nothing to lose by giving me a name or a phone number. And to gain…" Another one-shouldered shrug as he gives some vague consideration. "I'll pretend we never had this conversation."
A small grin pulls at the corners of his mouth as the teen looks from Odessa to watch the passers by. "Let him know who and what I am. I have nothing to hide and no reason to be ashamed by anything. As for what I might bring to his table for bargaining, that remains between he and I."
"Did you have another conversation like this with someone else to get this meeting with me?" Odessa's good humour fades, nostrils flaring with a sharp inhale. "I don't have the information," she admits. Begrudging, she adds, "But I can get it."
Her jaw sets and her dark blue gaze flickers up and down Devon once, reassessing him. "And what do I have to lose or gain by admitting to a conversation with a child?" It's cold, especially considering she didn't consider herself a child at that age. "I owe dear Valentin a life debt. I owe it to him to at least screen his calls," Odessa quips.
It's a good question how Devon managed this meeting, and one he's not forthcoming about answering. He simply turns his grin up a little, expressing as though to say her guess is as good as his. "I would be very grateful if you could get that information for me. Or even just tell me his full name, and I'll do the rest of the work so you wouldn't have to soil your hands."
The teenager turns back to Odessa, amusement creeping into the otherwise detached demeanor. "You can consider this call screened. What would a man of his nature have to fear of a boy like me? After all, his underlings caught me once." An admittance that's without the hesitation he normally presents, as he holds tightly to the front of uncaring. To this day it still rattles him, but she doesn't need to know that.
Odessa lifts her chin. Devon has several inches of height to his advantage, but she does her best to look imperious all the same. "I will tell him you want to meet. If he wants to hear what you have to say, that's up to him." She rolls her shoulders back, watching the boy she knows poses a threat. The idea of giving Michal over to him on a silver platter doesn't sit well with her. He already put bullets into the man once.
"If anything happens to him, and I find you're responsible even remotely," the young woman warns, her expression severe. Mouth gone small and gaze narrow. "I'll match whatever you did to him twice over."
"And what, exactly, did I do to him," Devon counters, turning fully, standing without leaning. He looks down at Odessa, head tipping so that he can meet her gaze. That cold hardness has returned in full force, his voice going soft as he confronts the woman. "Think carefully, Doctor Price, because before January 31, I was just an innocent kid with a new job and my only worry was getting home in time for supper."
His hands drop to his sides, though Devon makes no further movement, certainly nothing aggressive beyond the looming nature of his watchfulness of Odessa. "His name," he repeats, "and you can tell your friend that I'm looking for him."
The response is simple. "Go to hell." Sympathy tends to go with the phases of the moon, and right now that tide is out. But the truth is that Devon does frighten Odessa some, and so her eye darts to the lay of his hands before she allows herself to take a step back. "I'll tell him you want to speak, and nothing else. You can find somebody else to help you find him."
One hand along the wall to guide her, Odessa won't turn her back on the boy until she's put more distance between them. Short strides carry her back. "Hurting Valentin or killing him won't bring your innocence back. He's got powerful friends. Is it worth making yourself a target? Is it worth making what family and friends you still have targets? Because that's what will happen. Leave it alone. You can't undo what's been done. Not with bullets, and not with words."
He could press the point, follow after her, but there are other means of finding a name, and he'll get it one way or another. "Your time on that is limited," Devon states simply enough. "I'm a patient man, but if you fail…" The threat remains unspoken, lingering in the air between them. Slowly his arms lift again and fold over his chest, chin lifting as he continues to watch Odessa's retreat. "I'm not looking to undo anything, least of all what happened. And your petty threats and warnings? I'm already a marked target. You think I'm afraid of that anymore?" He pauses, allowing her to continue further away for a moment, time enough to weigh his words. "I'll give you a few days to return with the information I want. After that, I'm coming looking for you."
"You're gonna have to wait your fuckin' turn. Just like everybody else." Only a minute twitch of her lips betrays any apprehension Odessa may harbour on the subject. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before she finally turns away and starts swiftly down the path. Away.
Devon only watches until Odessa disappears amongst the crowd, making no attempts to follow or find out where she hides herself. That can be found other ways, as can Mister Valentin's whereabouts. Though the latter is proving more difficult. He smirks faintly once he can't see the woman any longer, then turns himself to walk the opposite direction off the bridge and lose himself amongst the milling park goers.