The Princess And The Pauper


griffin_icon.gif lynette2_icon.gif

Scene Title The Princess and the Pauper
Synopsis Garbage! Graffiti! …Griffin. >.> Lynette and Griffin meet up fairly randomly, and she gets recruited to help clean up.
Date October 01, 2010

Lower East Side: Condemned Tenement

Once home to dozens of working-class families, this building has long ago been officially evacuated and condemned after it was partially gutted by a fire. The brick exterior is covered with layer upon layer of graffiti, the windows are boarded, and some sections of the roof are less than sound. The fire took hold on the fourth floor and expanded upward. Below that, many of the apartments are still intact.

It's a clear day, pleasant and comfortable out, with a comfortable breeze billowing through the city. It's fall, the leaves are beginning to change, and the weather is becoming tolerable and, overall, pleasant. It's the perfect time to begin an extensive construction project on the Condemned Tenement; an enormous dumpster is parked out front, and it's beginning to be filled up with trash bags. Construction materials and equipment are being moved in, and it's been quite busy around here.

It's later in the evening, however, and it's quieted down considerably, the majority of the construction crew having gone home. Griffin stayed behind, mostly because he lives here. And it's good to get work done overnight, in any case. The faster this place can get fixed up, the faster his sister will let him help support her.

Currently, he's limping along along, carrying several trash bags in both hands, wearing sunglasses to shield off the last remnants of the sun. The cooler weather aggravates his knee, but he doesn't seem to mind. Reaching the trash bin, he flips the bags up and over the edge, one by one, humming softly to himself as he does so.

It just so happens that Lynette has some… business in this area. Business she generally likes to be alone for. Because, hey, who wants to buy drugs with people around.

But just now, her vials of Refrain are tucked safely away in a pocket in her purse, which is slung over an arm as she walks along. And she sticks out, too, with her designer clothes and such. Styled hair and manicured nails. Plus the click of her heals against the sidewalk.

"That's not a dead body is it?" come the teasing, dry tones of Lynette's voice as she catches sight of the man with the trash. "I'm fairly certain I'd have to report that," she adds, her smile crooked and her voice playful.

Griffin looks like your standard construction worker. A bit on the grimy side after a day of cleaning the place up, wearing a simple white t-shirt that hugs a deceptively muscular frame, a pair of jeans, and some work boots. It's as he's throwing the last trash bag up and into the trash can that he hears the click of designer heels against the sidewalk.

The man turns, lifting his sunglasses to reveal a pair of striking green eyes, examining the woman over carefully. "No ma'am, it is a large amount of beer cans and bottles accrued over years of this building housing bums." He chuckles softly. His eyes take in her clothes for a moment, before a small smirk slides across his face.

"You look a bit out of place, miss. You aren't lost, are you? Normally we don't see lovely, well dressed women come out this direction." He chuckles, tucking the sunglasses back on his head so he doesn't have to keep holding them up.

"Ah. That's so much less exciting," Lynette says with a wry chuckle as she steps over closer. There is a subtle glance over his frame, too, before her gaze settles on those recently revealed eyes. "Lost? Absolutely not. My direction sense has the keen ability to put me in the presence of compliments and flattery. It's very loyal." Apparently, this is the explanation he's getting, because she just tumbles the conversation right along. "Taking it upon yourself to clean up for the squatters?"

The man laughs softly. "Well, it brought you in the right direction, miss. I'm positively brimming with compliments and flattery." He leans against the large trash dumpster, wiping a hand over his brow. "We're cleaning this building up for reconstruction, actually. Going to remodel, get rid of the mold in the walls, make this place livable again." He chuckles. "Most of the fellas have already left today. I'm just getting a bit of last minute cleaning done, so we can get started on the important stuff quickly." Griffin offers a charming smile to the woman. "I'd shake your hand, but I don't think you want my stink. I'm Griffin Mihangle."

"You see? Loyal and true. Like a good dog." Lynette's smile seems to default to crooked. At least, it does under circumstances such as these. "Oh, is that right? Well, good for you all. This city is certainly never lacking a need for more housing. And look at you, so dedicated, staying late." She smiles a little wider in response to his, there's a brief, but amused laugh as he goes on. "You do have me pegged correctly there. But it's wonderful to meet you all the same. Lynette, is the name." Just one. Like Cher!

The man laughs. "Well, up until a few days ago, I was one of the bums living here." He jerks a thumb toward the building, smiling. "But, the new owner offered me a job and a chance at a better life. I couldn't pass it up, especially not with a ten year old son I want to support." He glances back to the building, smiling. "I'm not the best builder, but I think it will be pleasant to look at this place when we're finished, and know that I helped fix it up."

Griffin offers a soft chuckle. "Pleasure to meet you, Lynette. So, aside from fishing for compliments, what else brings your shining visage out this way?" Lynette may get the feeling he's not so much hitting on her, as he is acting on a deep-set sense of chivalry.

"Ahh, I see. Not entirely philanthropic on your end," Lynette says, but she's still just teasing, "My illusions, shattered." When the child is mentioned, her expression visibly softens for a moment, short but quite noticeable. "No, absolutely. It isn't every day a better life is an option. And I wouldn't worry if you're not the best, working on this, you'll get better." But her more amused, sassier expression returns there at his last question. "I have a sick friend in the area. I visit sometimes, when I can."

Griffin chuckles softly. "Hopefully you are correct." It certainly makes it easier that he's an amazing multitasker, and quite literally can do the work of four men. He's still trying to decide if he should show his ability around the other construction workers. Rupert was not very good at quelling the man's worries about showing off in public.

"Well, I do hope your friend will get better." He raises his brows, smiling.

"I always am," Lynette says with a quick wink. "It's a gift. So no worries there." her hand shifts to rest on her hip, her smile evening out some at his well wishes. "So do I. Very much. It's terrible to stand by and not be able to help, isn't it?"

"Well, I certainly won't question you in the future, then." Griffin smiles faintly to the woman. "I agree…it's quite awful to stand by and be incapable of offering assistance." Not that he does that, in any case. Most of the time, at least. "I made a vow to myself that no matter what, however, I won't stand by helpless." He murmurs this more to himself than to Lynette, before turning a smile up to her. "So, you know that I am a bum turned construction worker. Might I inquire your line of work, Miss Lynette?"

Lynette chuckles there and nods her head sagely, "It's a good idea not to." But as he continues, her expression gets more serious and her amrs fold loosely over her torso. "That's quite a vow, Mister Mihangle. How does that work out for you? Sounds like trouble." But, even through her more flippant words, there's a hint of admiration in her gaze, perhaps taking a moment to rejudge the man. "Oh, I'm a landlady, usually. I'm actually fixing up a building in the Bronx right now. Hopefully we'll be able to open it again soon. We'll see how it goes."

A weary smile. "It's difficult, I must say. But, it will be worth it eventually, I am sure." Griffin offers a soft chuckle. "Perserverance is key to survival, after all." He smirks, straightening his shirt. "Oh, that's wonderful! It's quite good to hear about other places being fixed up to be more livable." He turns, smiling back to the building. "I'd ask if you'd like to help me scrub grafitti, but something tells me you would say no."

"I'm such a bigger fan of instant gratification," Lynette says with a little chuckle. It's true, but also not entirely, as she, too, is the type to not sit by. "So much was just… obliterated by the storms earlier this year. It's a shame, frankly. And I know resources are thin, but that's when a community is supposed to pull together and such… except that we happen to be in New York City." Jaded? Maybe. But at those last words, she gets her crooked smile back again, "Oh, I don't know. I could surprise you. Why don't you ask and find out?"

Griffin offers a soft chuckle, pushing off of the oversized construction dumpster and taking a step closer to the woman, a bright smile settled over his hawkish features. "Well, those of us who care to pull together will. Nobody said that pulling together was easy. Those who care will just have to persist." He grins, and gestures toward her. "Would you like to help me scrub graffiti, Miss Lynette?"

"Oh, sure," Lynette says, an easier smile on her face, "Bring sense and logic into it." She doesn't seem to mind him coming closer, even with the whole… construction worker/trash man motif he's got going on. "What? Are you crazy? This is Valentino," she says, at first, looking completely serious for about five seconds before it breaks with a chuckle and a nod of her head, "Seriously, I would love to. If only to prove that I meant it about communities pulling together."

Griffin offers a soft laugh. "Well, I know I have a clean shirt you can use, if you'd like. I wouldn't want to cause damage to your fine clothing." He chuckles faintly. "I want to get at least the entrance done before the sun goes down. I'd much rather be focusing on making this place safe to live in again." He smiles, making a gesture toward the building, before beginning to head up toward it, where buckets and brushes await.

"Actually, that would be lovely." Lynette doesn't really seem too worried, but with the option to save the clothes… "I think we can get that done. I used to live in LA, you know. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's get rid of graffiti." She glances toward his building for a moment before she starts over that way, her head tilting curiously. "So tell me about your son."

The man laughs. "Well, your expertise would be very much appreciated. The quicker this comes off, the better." He laughs as he leads the way toward the building, limping slightly. Bad knee on the right side, it seems. "My son…well, he's ten. He likes music and basketball, just like his old man." He smiles faintly, apparently hesitant to offer more.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. We'll have it spic and span in no time." At the note about his son, the woman nods a bit, replying with a quick, "That's nice, having things in common." But she doesn't press for more on the subject. Instead, Lynette seems to notice the limp, and it makes her frown softly. "Are you hurt?" Her hand even goes to her hip, concern veiled through a layer of frustration at stubborn males. Huff!

A laugh as she asks if he's hurt, and Griffin pauses in walking, bending down to lift up his pant leg and reveal a decidedly old scar in his knee. "Nearly twenty years ago, I injured myself playing basketball in high school." He points at the side of his knee. "Tore my ACL. Even though I had surgery, it never quite healed right." He grins to the woman. "It's an old limp, one I'll never get rid of, I'm sure." With a wink, he's making his way back to the building, pushing his pant leg back down.

Lynette tilts her head to have a look at that scar, and she nods in understanding. "Oh, I see. You had me worried there for a moment." It isn't the best neighborhood, after all. Poor poor bum. But, as he leads the way into the building, she follows, ready to get her hands uncharacteristically dirty.

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