The Wrong Fed


abby_icon.gif christian_icon.gif teo_icon.gif

Scene Title The Wrong Fed
Synopsis May, conveniently, turn out to be the right one.
Date November 28, 2008

Old Lucy's

Old Lucy's has a vibrant and lively feel to it, from the dark wooden floors to the shady crimson walls lit up by neon lights and many times, the flashing of cameras from the oft-crowded floor. The mirror behind the bar reflects prices of various drinks, bottles lined up, as well as the entire saloon as seen from the bartenders; bolted-down stools line the other side, and there are loose tables and chairs placed all around, though many times they find themselves pushed back for more space within the center of the saloon. A few speakers are placed at strategic places and around a raised stage to the far corner from the bar. Above the counter, an obviously well-used bar is hung; it is this that the girls working will use should there be dancing, which is one reason many patrons choose to come aside from the drinks. Across the bar and near the back, there is a door that leads to the owner's office and just inside a stairwell that leads a apartment on the floor above the bar.

Old lucy's is hopping. The new place is turning out to be quite the hit. Abby's end of the bar is still not as busy as the middle or the opposite end. Though, it's for different reasons as the redhead seems to be tremendously jumpy. As such, she's screwing up alot of drinks and taking a little longer for the ones she is getting right. Every time someone approaches her end of the bar, she flinches when she looks up, hoping to not see a certain face but knowing it's inevitable. one could say, it's like the sword of Damocles is just hanging.

Chris and Teo aren't that long in coming, but Christian was indeed taking the long way. His Gear-up, is absolutely everything you love about the Kalashnikov in a sidecar motorcycle. Its ugly (camo actually), agrarian, tough and most of all fun. There are a few detours to jump curbs, dodge traffic and of course a few just to bypass traffic via the sidewalk. Finally, with the scream of knobby tires on pavement the camoflagued sidecar hack slides to a top."and here, we are."Christian finally announces, looking over to Teo.

Riding in the sidecar stops being embarrassing after the first fly gets stuck in your teeth and you stop being able to feel your face from the onslaught of the weather at high velocity. Over curbs, under trees, screaming by irritable drivers hammering on their horns, graffiti and neon sliding by in a technicolor blur. The air isn't going down the right pipes by the time Teo climbs out, so neon spots in his eyes throw him mildly off-balance. He laughs, peeling the helmet off his head. Stuffs it under his arm and gestures grandly at the Old Lucy. "My friend should be on shift tonight," he says, benignly. "She's a better listener than I am. Come, come." He manages to arrange his feet into a saunter and bludgeon his way through the doorway with a densely-garbed shoulder.

"Lady, I asked for a mint julep, you gave me a mint fuck-up!" Someones waggling the drink in front of her face when Abby looks up, the frosted glass two millimeters from her face. "I'm terribly sorry, I followed the recipe." Abby glances down the bar to one of the other women, who comes over and decides to take pity on Abby and mint julep lady is taken down the bar. Much to Abby's thankfulness and a murmured prayer. Samuel Adams up next and she starts to pour it. The red hair is down, cascading in waves down her back and across shoulders. Black tank top showing minimum midriff, jeans, belt and flat boots, Abby passes over the drink with a smile. One that freezes when the door opens. It's Teo though, not Felix, thank the lord for small miracles. "Over here, Teo!"

Christian is in no real rush, he stows his helmet before dismounting to follow Teo. "Yeah, its really not that big of a deal."He lies, slipping in behind Teo as he begins to quickly unzip the front of his motorcycle jacket. "I totally should have hit that fucking kid, I swear ain't no kids these days got no respect for nothin'." He almost snorts, really.

Over his shoulder, Teo crooks a bright sliver of grin. Which dims slightly, when he realizes that Christian is lying about the size of the deal it is— because Christian really isn't all that good a liar, but he returns his expression to full force the next moment. Not mirth at his friend's expense, but reassurance. Everything will be fine. The world is about to end, that's all, but for now between love and war, it's the former that confronts them with all its tenebrous uncertainties and pessimism. "You're quoting an African American stand-up comedien, aren't you? 'I don't get no respect?' I don't know enough about pop-culture.

"Abby!" The latter remark is, no doubt, not directed at Christian but at the faux-redhead who exchanges her look of deer-in-headlights in favor of a look as welcoming as a Sicilian could ask for. He veritably beams, crossing the floor. Stops only when the bar gets in his way, and leans over to offer a brief hug of greeting. "Buona sera, bello. I'm here with a friend." He nods at said friend: the giant biker.

Stiff hug. But she hugs Teo back none the less with a quietly murmured Buona sera back to him. Christian though, Abby glances up, then down, trying to place him before surprise crosses her face. She straightens, a dip of her head in respect to Christian "Did you get all the lettuce out of your computer? I hope it doesn't still smell." Abby's blue eyes switch to Teo. "I met him in Piccoli's. I tripped and his laptop and my sandwich met. Welcome to Old Lucy's What can I get you both?" She relaxes a little, but not too much, she's still wound tight.

Giant biker, goodness gracious Chris wasn't giant. I mean really Godzilla has like forty pounds on him. "Evenin', dahrlun." His accent is coming on thicker tonight, a result of entirely too much introspection to be healthy. He stuffs his gloves into an inside pocket, before following Teo to a barstool. "Ain't nothin' worth your worry."

What he wanted, was a rather more difficult question. "I reckon a Jack'n Coke, but go easy on the Jack. I ain't up for much tonight, anyhow." He reaches across the bar to offer his hand. "I'm Christian Einliter, its a right pleasure li'l miss."

Teo notices something is wrong, because he as the scintillating senses of a super-spy. Or, you know, because Abby has gone all stiff as if she has scaffolding under her skin and generally he doesn't smell that terrible, so. He squints momentary concern into her fair face, furrow in his brow, a small frown bent into his mouth, before he turns the corners up rather unconvincingly. "Talk to you later," he whispers, giving her a gentle clap between the angles of her shoulderblades, before he pulls back to the customer side of the bar. Drops himself onto the stool Christian had selected for him and, reluctantly, begins to peel off his own jacket. "Mi amico had a rough day," he summarizes for Abigail, nodding toward the, indeed, giant man, even as he dumps his garb over his own lap and echoes the drink order.

"Bad days are always calls for a good drink. Or so I have been told. Jack and coke, easy on the coke. Teo, what would you like?" Abby's retrieving the highball, dropping some whiskey into it over a little bit of ice. the black and while label, little less than she's been taught then fills it up with Coke. Onto a little black bar napkin and places it before Christian. "Bad days happen, it's how you lift yourself up after you've fallen though, that make the difference. Bad day at work?"

"Bad date," is all he feels required to give forward. Work was good, actually. He froze suddenly, inhaling sharply. Oh shit, he knew her! He'd seen her, through the face shield of a helmet. Quickly Chris sniffles, before forcing himself to loosen back up. "I think I'm going to have to see a doctor about my knees." A subject change, to a true subject.

This is one fucking weird day. Teo's friends are acting they're undergoing menstrual cramps, stiffening, shifting, and jumping subjects like so. "Jack and Coke," he repeats, at length, after he decides to stop staring at Christian. Guy's had a rough day. The last thing he needs to do is to be stared at by a foreigner at his home soil. "What's wrong with your knees?" he inquires, stooping his head to sit chin on his own bicep and stare down at the appendages in question, though he momentarily fetches Abby an unreadable glance in between. "There's this vulgar quip I could be making, but in light of your date I'm guessing that wasn't it. I've had fucking terrible dates, before," he recalls, brightening perhaps inappropriately, considering his statement. "It's actually worse if the later ones are terrible rather than the first."

Abby leans over the bar, looking at the knees in question. "you don't look old enough to have knee problems" Jack and Coke again, She makes the same for Teo, sliding it in front of him. She provides a smile before looking to Christian "Give me your hand, I know a trick" She wriggles her fingers. "I'm on break anyways right now. You can ask Teo, it's a great trick." While Christian may recognize her, Abby doesn't. She was unconscious the whole time and her memory is lacking.

"Yeah well, Teo, they didn't throw up on you did they?" he just sort of blurts it out, just empties that admission out into the discussion before quickly retreating to his diversion. "They've been pretty painful for like, three or four years? Doc said it'll take a knee replacement, but that'll pull me off my job. Too much weight, you know you don't see a lot of dudes in the army hauling around a SAW and a radio. When I was in the 'stan, I was hauling around about a hundred thirty pounds of shit." It's a simple explanation, he wouldn't bring up what had really done the bulk of the damage. "He accepts his drink, sipping at it quietly whilst peering at Abby's hands as if they was indeed some sort of trickery involved. "I'm not into bar tricks."

Behind Christian's head, Teo's face shuts down for a moment like someone had killed the electric current that was keeping him animate, replaced momentarily by a paranoid, furtive swerve of eyes between his healer and his Fed. Abby does, after all, have no way of knowing that the man is with a Federal agency and obliged by external duties if not internal commitment to turn over or arrest any unregistered Evolved, and Christian can't know that this is no bar trick. Still, he finds himself saying nothing.

Doing nothing, not even distracting either from the matter at hand, not immediately anyway; waiting for a moment to see how it'll pan out, a test of trust or of faith in both or either. The next moment, he takes his glass and raises it at Abigail in thanks.

"It's all right," he says, with a half a grin for her, before he takes a mouthful of cocktail. Studies Christian from over the rim. "One did, once. During sex. Other times, they threw up around me. Not during sex. Puking is a far more commonplace social activity than you might imagine. Kind of a side-effect," he taps the cup with his pinkie-finger. A beat's pause. "It was the Chinese, wasn't it?" he asks, his mouth wobbling around an expression other than a scowl.

"Not a bar trick. Someone once showed me how to ease an ache, through points on the hand. I've done it to Teo, he can attest." Abby still wriggles her fingers. "And it sounds… like a horrible date. Can you imagine how she feels? Throwing up on her date? Maybe she had something bad to eat, or she caught some bug." Throwing up during sex though, Abby's cheeks blush, red flooding beneath the purple, yellows, blues and greens. "Give her a day and approach her with some chicken soup, crackers and ginger ale?"

"I threw up too. I don't know. I mean I've seen, Hell I've done worse to people, but I dunno." He pauses, finally submitting his hand to Abby. "The smell, and ya know, there was parts I remembered. So after she threw up all over me, I just threw up too. Not on her thank god, but enough." He frowns, sipping at his drink again. "I don't know, I thought about sending her something like chocolates but all I could think was what they'd look like after she puked them back up."

"No chocolates. Bring her chicken soup, and crackers and ginger ale. I promise. She'll either never look at you again, or she'll smile and laugh and you can both laugh about a very horrible date and plan the next one." She doesn't say a prayer out loud, inside her head she does. With his proffering of his hand, she set's into work, warmth and tingle possibly disguised by the rubbing of her thumbs against his hand. Just enough to ease the ache, that's all she wants to do. "Not that, mind you, I've dated nor done… you know. But, I'm sure she'd appreciate and enjoy that."

That is, admittedly, pretty horrible. Teo's cheek twitches fiercely as it sinks in how horrible that truly is, partly. It's also twitching, a little, at the sincere conviction that he could kill somebody if they hurt Abby, but that's a notion for in a few minutes, if it so happens that conclusions are drawn— and they aren't always.

"Then don't send her food," he suggests, reaching over to clap a callused hand over Christian's near shoulder. It feels like trying to physically comfort a particularly large boulder. "Flowers. Something with baby's breath: no one's allergic to baby's breath. And the chicken soup, crackers, and ginger ale, I guess," he adds, angling Abigail a bemused glance, both delighted and disappointed to see the blush faded from her already brilliantly-festooned features. "Before the throwing up part, though. That go well?"

Christian simply slides into a low frown, before gently lifting Abby's hand from his shoulder. "Hows your scooter?" He wasn't a hundred percent, but he quite sure what was going on here. He wasn't going to ask to see her papers, and whisk her away to interrogate her. Well actually, even if he knew she was unregistered he wasn't going to do that. So for now, he offers her an unusually subtle warning to watch her step. "You took a pretty bad spill, hit that dead fuck really square on."

"How did you know I had…" There's puzzlement sliding across her features then her eyes widen. "I don't remember that night. I just remember riding and then… paramedics trying to get me to lay still" Now it's Christian's turn to be studied. "You were there? You were there, in Harlem? What happened? How did…" Abby's cut off the healing, it sends when christian breaks contact and she gestures to her face.

Somewhere low in his gut, Teo fosters a twinge of regret for using Abby as section C in this ongoing examination of the FCC agent's viability as an ally. On the other hand, the nature of Abigail's ability and her demeanour have a peculiar way of winning people to her side; as Evolved abilities go, hers is one of the more overtly benevolent and likely to slide under the radar unless some one-eyed seventeen-year-old brat is waving a blackmail flag. Teo puts his nose in his drink and swallows, watching his friends with the quiescent interest of someone privately hating himself for not being able to just tell

Well, that got her attention. "If I had known you were a friend of Teo's, I'd have attended to you myself. I'm glad the paramedics took care of you though, don't look too bad." He sips his drink, before setting it aside. "I had someone else to take care of, anyway. I think, I'd advise you to start using your head instead of your heart. Your quite fortunate, that our mutual friend here is a fine judge of character. If he wasn't, I'm quite certain they'd be prying your skull apart to try and figure out how you work. You can't help people, if you get caught now can you?"

"You." Abby's gone from looking at Christian to Teo. "Back room. Now." There's apparently, back rooms. There's a seriously unhappy look on her face. "You, stay there." Spoken to Christian. Then just like that, the redhead is turning around and striding off towards the back room, a glass of cola in her hand.

One last sip of the Coke mixture, and Teo sits the glass down, claps the bar once with a quizzical eyebrow at the big biker to say: be right back. With that, he pulls upright, leaving helmet and jacket on counter, and swivels about. Shouldering his way politely between other late-night revelers and partakers, he eventually pops out of the scattered crowd where Abby can let him into the back. The moment they have some semblance of privacy, there's a sheet of paper pressed into her hand, folded into sixths and lettered with a computer's immaculate font; he doesn't wait for her to speak to request, "Burn it after you read, ragazza. Please." The last word is given the weight of his stare, as sincere as he's capable of. He'll do whatever she wants afterward, if she'll do this thing.

The back rooms empty, chairs and tables, looks like it's saved for either staff chats or private parties. The coke is gobbled down before Abby takes the sheet of paper. If ever there has been a pissed Abby, this is it. "Who the Hell is that? Who did you bring to me, Teo?" The paper is taken, slid into a pocket. "This is not a good day. So, spill."

"I brought you my friend," Teo answers, frankly. "He's a Federal Communications Commission officer. I didn't bring him here because his knees were hurting, I brought him here because he'd had a rough date and needed a drink— this just happened. Apparently, he's developed common sense since his initial arrival in Manhattan. Good for him, lucky for you. I'll never let anything happen to you if I could help it," he adds with the abruptness of a young man suddenly railroaded by his own conscience, a frown bending his face, fingers lacing behind his neck as if to stop the needling curdle of his hackles seizing behind his head. "He was wrong, a little. I know you use your head. I'm sorry if I scared you," he says, gaze dropping past the empty furniture.

Abby drops into a chair. "My luck. Incredible. Have you seen Helena? I met her at the diner yesterday. Where Brian proceeded to somewhere else, get beat up, while his original was with her. He can't keep his mouth shut and be not obvious, screams at the top of his lungs for Helena to come. Know what happens, Teo? They gut punch the federal officer, who I happen to know, who HAPPENS to have started to take a very keen interest in me. But instead of staying with the officer and seeing to him, I go help them. I've been waiting for him to come in all night and arrest my ass. Instead now, you've come in, and brought another kind of officer, who was at the very place, I can't remember being and is now warning me about being careful who I heal lest Sylar decides to examine my brain. I assume he's talking about Sylar," Abby groans, thumping her head down on the table. "Bring him in here. Go get him and bring him in here."

It says nothing good about a terrorist faction, when the member most or more capable of secrecy is from Sicily. Either that, or Alexander can apply one of his infuriating mafia jokes here. Teo stares. Scowls. Stares again. Alternates between the two expressions as he listens to this impossible story, considerably worse — in his estimation of things — than being puked shitty Chinese on. "I doubt they're coming for you if they haven't already, but we'll work it out if they do.

"Between Sergei and our other resources," a certain Haitian, ex-Mossad, Stillwater Securities, "we have you covered. Look; you've done him a good turn. This one, I mean. Christian. He's not the kind of asshole to spit on you afterward. I trust him with my life." Which, granted, isn't saying a lot, but it at least it says more than a little. There's a hand on her head, tentative, as inscrutably gentle as the bough that carries the flower, if the bough were somehow afraid of itself. "Are you sure you want me to bring him?"

"Bring him in. He's put tow and two together. God has a purpose in everything. At least if you bring him back here, not everyone else will see and I won't need to use the whole massage your hand trick" She's still inwardly cursing. "And get a Red Bull. Isabelle won't mind. She already knows who I am."

Two and two. "He's smart, about some things," Teo acknowledges dryly. Eventually, all of New York City is going to know who Abby is. He gives the back of her head a ginger look. His fingers tighten slightly on her hair, scritching her scalp once, briefly, before he turns back to the bar room and lopes out. Knowing that dramatic overtures of secrecy would attract more attention than noise in a setting like this, he raises an arm and makes an expansive wave. "Christian! Get over here." Starts to step back in. Pauses, and ducks his head back out for an instant, one eye large with the significance of his following request: "Bring the drinks." Himself, he snags a squat can of Red Bull from the kitchen area, down the side, before re-emerging after familiarizing himself, quietly and not entirely coincidentally, with the back routes and exits.

It takes a moment, for Chris to gather the drinks, Teo's riding gear and himself up. Still, he joins the pair soon enough. "Hey kids," he offers, setting down first drinks then Teo's riding gear. "No need to take things so personally, if I was gonna be a dick I'd have already done something." It was simple, and it was true. Chris finds himself an empty chair, before slumping down into it.

"I've had a long couple days. Give me your hand again. No bar tricks." Abby holds her palm out again. "My name is Abigail Beauchamp. God gave me the gift of laying on hands." When everyone had gathered into the room and the door was shut. "Teo says your a friend. And there's always a reason for why people pass through my life. so give me your hand. I'll fix you up, so that you can protect his ass so he can protect my fucking ass cause i'm going to need it." Abby's blue eyes rest on Christians, thought they look at Teo when the swear word leaves her mouth.

Teo is a little amazed, it's true. His mouth goes into a little 'o.' That's a lot of swear words. A lot of information, too. Understandably, he's characterized by a tendency to keep things close to the vest. "It might make her feel better if you tell her something about yourself," Teo offers softly. He parks himself by the door, his back flat against the wall, feet braced and legs angled to let it take the better part of his weight — or at least give the appearance of such.

"I mentioned who you work for, since she was a little—" alarmed, paranoid, horrified, "—confused about the bit you said about the paramedics, but I figured everything else was yours to say, mio amico." Among them, principally, the fact that Christian is Evolved himself. He falls silent himself, one hand in his pocket, the other light by his side. Doesn't add, say, that if he was going to be a dick there's a reasonable chance he'd be a dead one. Abby is, by far, the most harmless of the unregistered Evolved who work here, and she isn't precisely helpless herself.

Bad mojo, this was breaking one of Chris's own rules. Never take the easy way, but it did stand to cure him of a chronic pain that may have crippled lesser men and of course foster some trust with his friends. "I dont like, taking the easy road."he offers finally, before offering his hand over. "and you dont owe me anything, you understand? Do this, because you want to do this. Not out of any sense of obligation, or my personal honor and yours will be tainted."

Funny words, from a dude who spoke of never taking a personal investment in his work. "My name is Staff Seargeant Christian Powell, I'm working with the Intelligence Support Agency's office of field operations. I'm here to stop terrorists, people who take innocent life. Not people who resist tyranny, you understand?"

"I do this, because I want to, because it's right and good," Abby answers. There's no pretense of hand massages this time, just her hands enveloping his. Her lips moves, and the barest sounds of a prayer going off and the healing starting. "I'm affiliated with no one. Just Abigail Beauchamp, bartender at the Old Lucy. You owe me nothing, and I owe you nothing. Just a gift from God." The little gold cross dangles from her throat as she leans forward, elbows on knees and his hand between hers. "May take a little bit. You should feel it now. Like warmth and tingling I've been told. Pleasure to meet you Staff Seargeant Powell. What happened that night in Harlem. I really can't remember a drop. Moderate concussion, fracture cheekbones and broken nose." There's a pause and Abby looks up, away from his hands. "Do you know… an Agent Ivanov?" It's a chance in a million, maybe, possibly.

Maybe, possibly. Hopefully. Teo's eyes shift toward Christian. Since Helena gave him his first assignment, more than a month ago, it's been on him to have Abby's back at least as much as she has his. He won't say it out loud, won't ask for favors — never mind actually expect convenience or benefit, not even on her behalf, but it's near the surface of his consciousness. The hope that Abigail, now independent operator, could get a little more protection from the unseen forces that perpetually drag at good people like some kind of unadulteratedly shitty karmically-confused undertow.

Ohboy, wasn't this an interesting discussion. "You ran over a murder victim, I was too busy getting shot at to have really paid close attention to you after that Abigail. I'm sorry, but you were not my priority." Now Ivanov. "Yes, I know Felix extremely well. One of the most pro-Evolved law enforcement officials I've ever met, and an extraordinarily decent man. He's an excellent field officer, and an excellent human being. How do you know about Felix, Median tell you that?"

So he couldn't shed more light, no more than what the cops told her. She hit a dead man. There's a soft sigh at that. Maybe some days he'd remember, maybe she wouldn't. It was looking like it was just co-incidence that she was there at that time. But there, Christian's speaking more. The healing never falters, though her shoulders sink lower as time passes. "He's… He was one of my customers when I worked at the diner, and he's been here a few times. Keeps telling me "lady, once is an accident, twice, you leave that bastard." She smile, the corners of her mouth lifting up. Her eyes drop back down to his hands, chafing his hand between hers. "He's going to come looking for me, I thought he'd have been here today. Two people I were with had to leave real quick, and he tried to stop them. They dropped him, fists to their stomachs. He knows me, and where I work. Do I need to worry… about him?" Her blue eyes flicker up at him, there's real honest to God worry there.

In contrast, there's nothing in particular in Teo's own baby blues. After a moment, he leans over to snag his glass from the table with a murmured excuse me, and drinks from the rim. Once or twice, his head swivels toward the doorway — like a civilian considering whether he really ought to be here, listening to this, if this is— appropriate or likely to get him in trouble, as if he's unfamiliar with that. Teodoro doesn't go, of course. He wouldn't leave either of them unless he was bid to.

"If Felix wants to find you, he -will- find you. I think its probably best, that you tell Felix whatever he wants to know. He is a just man, and your friends interrupted his business and hit him. The deal Median struck with me and Felix, is a delicate one you understand? If you get caught, you sit in a jail cell. I will face summary execution in court marshal, and he perhaps the needle for treason."He wasn't threatening, he wasnt waving a gun around. He was rather cleanly spoken now, careful of the words he spoke.

Everything Christian knew, Felix knew. At least operationally speaking, Felix could hurt Phoenix just as much as Christian could. Chris was really, one to admit that Felix was probably the more dangerous of the two at large to boot. Felix had patience.

"I don't know who Median is, and I'm the last person to go rattling and tattling on what I don't know. I'm just a person who lays on hands. I get a call, and someone comes and gets me or tells me where to go." Abby gestures to Teo. "He's… my guardian of a sorts. Someone asks, and if I can do, I do." Still, it trickles, and the warmth settles where it needs to fix and heal. "Teo, why do people always think, that I know more than I do? Do I have a sign that reads 'direct line to God, can provide answers' on my forehead?" She looks once more to Christian. "If he asks, I will answer, the best I can. I'll say the same, that I say to others. If your hurt, I will heal you. But don't come running into my place of work and jeopardize my job, and don't treat me like a commodity. I don't like be treated like a healing machine. I have limits, it's not an endless fountain of life that I have."

And Teodoro's just a dumb kid who forgets his motorcycle jacket and is easily infatuated with red-haired girls who are as fantatically religious, in their own way, as he is. Or so the show goes, all else circumstancial, while he stands by a wall with a drink in one hand, lint in the other, and stares blankly between the two Evolved. "You look clever," he answers, with a half a rueful grin. "And you cite the Bible constantly. The Bible has a lot of conventional wisdom. Maybe not about girls who throw up on your shirt, but about making peace and keeping more friends than enemies. Maybe you should stop being so modest and give the poor stronzo here some advice. Besides, you know. Don't fuckin' get caught." His shoulders slump slightly, eyes hooding lazily.

Christian narrows his gaze towards Teo a moment. "You know, Abigail associating with criminals threatens your job. Being honest when it comes to Felix, does not."He leaves it there. "So, hows your scooter?" he asks again, leaving the prior line of questioning immediately.

"Name me one time where I've cited the Bible, Teo. Name it." The baby blues have swiveled to him and her hand tightens around Christians. "Give me one day, besides when I am taking away a persons hurts and praying so that He'll grant it, when I am throwing the bible around. Yes I'm always telling you not to swear around me and it's wrong of me to demand that, but the Bible Teo, stays on my nightstand. I don't like it when Conrad goes calling me the holy virgin. But I grit my teeth. I'm grounded in my faith, yes I am. I'm comfortable in it, and it protects me, but I don't go throwing it around in people's faces and quoting the Bible." She's tired and Teo's comment hit her on a nerve. "My scooter is fine. it made it's way to another friend who fixed it as a thank you for me helping her. It's parked at the diner, last I knew, unless Felix is holding it hostage. I haven't checked." Abby's gaze has settled back on Christian's hand, judging how much more he needs. "I'm not clever. I don't cite the Bible constantly and I'm knee deep in shit and finally finding my way out of it."

More because of the she says it than because Teo believes he spoke false, he knows he did something wrong. It's as much by way of elaboration as by apology, then, that he cites back to her one she'd begun to murmur once when she'd closed her little arms around his big awkward boy-body once upon a time. He'd had a cold starting, gotten himself knocked around something fierce, a headache kicking fiercely into his left temple. "'Oh let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end; but establish the just: for the righteous God trieth the hearts and reins.' Psalms, 7:9. You don't preach, bella, but healing is enough. He inspires you to do right, and you aren't ashamed of it.

"I'd be a worthless son of a bitch if I couldn't stand by what you do and remember it," he rounds off quietly, his head bowed. "It was a bad joke. The man seemed like he was in need of some words, that's all. I wasn't trying to insult you. I won't again." His mouth finds a line and he glances up at Christian. The earlier part had been answer enough, as far as he's concerned. She can associate with whom she likes; Teo believes in what she does.

Christian just glances from one, to the other with a wry little smile. "Somehow, radios seem to be a safer subject," he muses. "So, Abigail what do you think of Teo's bike situation? I've been thinking about helping him rebuild something, but I reckon you know him far better." His gaze shifting back over towards Teo for a moment. "Think he's mechanically inclined enough to be trusted?"

"Was a joke?" She's more weary than she thought. She can usually pick up on a joke. But she can feel the pull from herself, to Christian taper off and then dwindle to nothing. It's gone, whatever ailed him and she releases his hands gently so she can lean back in her chair. "He said he did a stupid, he told me about his bike situation." Abby looks over at him, blinking slowly. "You can. He only does stupid once, and learns from it. He's had a few scares between when his bike got broken by someone and now. I trust him with my life, why wouldn't I trust him with anything else" Abby pushes herself up from the chair, sways and then sits back down. "Red Bull, please."

Red Bull please resides on the buffet table beside Teo. He picks it up and hands it over, obedient in the way that a permanently contrite child, further chastised, tends to become. Though he splits his cheek with a brief, incorrigible grin when Christian mentions about radio. Oh, it's true. Hobbies are safe. Generally. He pauses to crack the can open with the flat of his thumb, before depositing the beverage in its entirely in Abby's care. "Rebuild?" comes the next query, instant, apparently accepting doing stupid and his lack of trustworthiness in stride. "What." His tone makes it a statement instead of a question and his features go all inquisitive. "Rebuild a bike?"

"Well," Christian begins. "It's pretty easy to get old race bikes for cheap, because they need a rebuild before you could confuse them with anything reliable. Lot of man hours, what what typically just needs a little loving, Pick a nice SM bike up for under a grand easy. I figure I'd help you tear it down, clean it up and put it back together. A winter project, ya know?"

Abby takes the drink, starting to chug it down, very un ladylike. In fact, she's never drank Red Bull ladylike. Every drop gleaned from it that she can, it's placed to the side and she folds her arms on the table and lays her head down to watch the two and fight the urge to curl up and sleep.

This winter, Teo doesn't have anything particular to do except hide from snow, punch HomeSec in the berries, continuously stalk a range of citizens, and try to stop the world ending in a Flood, if he recalls correctly. "I could use a winter project," he says. "I'm off for the rest of this semester anyway. There's this academic policy that normally applies to kids whose roommates have committed suicide, where you get a straight 4.0 for this half of the year.

"Apparently, it also applies to seeing—" he runs out of words in that abrupt sort of way that would be embarrassing if he thought having a heart is embarrassing. "What I saw. Between teaching, I'll have time. And I'd love to. If you would. Please," he adds, going from acceptance to timid hope to plea, conveniently forgetting that Christian had already offered. He grins; shows teeth. And lopes over to where Abigail is seated, without ceremony. He closes a hand on the back of her chair and stoops over to peer at her face. "Eh. Bella. Would you like me to call a cab?"

Christian nods softly, peering at the door. "It's getting pretty late, Teo you want a ride home?" lifting a hand to rub absently at the back of his head. "I have some fed shit to do in the morning." Well, ok how else would you describe paperwork. Fed shit. "I'll drag you along to my next race, we'll go shopping in the pits afterward."

"Can't go… home… and sleep. I need to work. Need the money for the apartment first and last. Another red bull and some coffee and I'll be good. Boss lives above, I'll see about crashing here." Abby rises from the seat, giving Teo a less stiff and awkward hug, but it's still quick. "You'll be fine Christian. It's not a joke. If you still get a tweak, lemme know, or come here, I'll make sure. I need to get back before the girls get upset that I took too long." Abby rubs her face, pinking it up and fixes her hair.

Hugs are acceptable currency of bribery, at least enough that Teo doesn't insist! on her swapping shift out with somebody else. Although she could. "You could swap," he mumbles in her hair, but doesn't press it, even as he gives her svelte waist an equally brief squeeze. Releases gently, palming the curve of her hip just a moment to make sure she's steady on her feet before he politely withdraws back into his personal bubble. "Dio ti benedica, sweetheart. Sure, I could use a ride home. If you want want to bar-hop some more," he says, angling a look up at Christian, beatific and bright. Teo's glass is empty, now. He can carry it to the front.

"I could, Teo," Abby answers. "But you know me." She'll work 'till she drops. "Steady intake of caffeine, I'll be fine. He wasn't off bad." A weary wink given to Christian. "Get out of here, before I make you both have another." The cups are gathered up, Abby's steady on her feet and ready to leave the back room. "I meant what I offered Christian. Just call." And out the door the redhead slides.

November 28th: Date Night

Previously in this storyline…

Next in this storyline…

November 28th: Shoulds, Whys, and Why-Nots
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License