Participants:
| Scene Title | Thirteen Ways |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Dee and Magnes discuss vocations and pass a few words on pets. |
| Date | February 27, 2010 |
Delilah's Apartment, Village Renaissance Building
Just entering the apartment, it gives of a feeling of comfortable homeliness; light colors, pastel shades, floral designs, clean and sweet smells, and only accents of dark where it most fits. The front room leads to a den further on, with a large sofa in a coffee cream color sitting opposite a similar chair, and a wooden table in between. There is only an almost retro-looking television off on the other side, but the things hooked up to it show that it is not as old as it seems. Nothing is, really.
To the far end is the kitchen, which always seems to smell like something recently cooked there; the appliances and counters are squeaky clean, but obviously used on a regular basis, and the leftover anything in the fridge can attest to that, as can a perpetual dish of cookies on the table. The bathroom is also squeaky clean, and it seems as if anyone coming out smells significantly nicer than when they had gone in; there is a closet within where the washer and dryer stay. There are two bedrooms, but one is emptied and instead made into a big rainbow-colored sewing and storage room, complete with fabric bolts and racks on wheels centered around a masterfully ordered sewing machine and table.
The actual bedroom is based in those mainly soft colors, yet the lower walls have at least two long, cluttered tackboards home to pictures, clippings, seemingly random crafts, and generally quirky things. A desk in a similar state sits in the far corner by the closet, opposite a low, wide, fluffy-looking bed swamped in pillows and comforters. At least half a dozen stuffed animals peek out from various points.
It's evening, and Magnes spent most of the day visiting college campuses and talking to professors. But now he's brushing up on what he already knows from what bit of a college education he got at home, before his high school education was even over. He has a pair of jeans on and a white t-shirt, having changed out of a simple blue suit he was wearing when he arrived. His legs are crossed on the couch next to Delilah, and he has a large stack of incredibly complicated books on her table.
He already went through a political science book, mostly to refresh his memory, now he's reading a book on statistics. "This stuff really is kind of like riding a bike, y'know?" he says as he writes down notes in a wire-bound book, already halfway through it with all the notes he's written so far. "Hey, Delilah, I didn't even think about this, are you going to school soon?"
Delilah is perched nearby with her knees drawn up and a book on the top of them, her hand and fingers pinning open the paperback and periodically turning pages. After a while she just gave up trying to bother Magnes about anything and found something similar to sit and do. The apartment smells like something having been baked earlier, though nothing is around to give a clue- perhaps whatever it was was eaten up by the boy of the sofa.
On the television, volume low, is Animal Planet; the show is some reality bit about a dog rescue, and Samson in all his doggie wisdom is sitting right in front of the screen, ears alert and eyes trained on the sounds and pictures playing there. "I have no idea. Even if I did, I don't know what I'd go for. I'm not like you or Helena- I don't have a real dream yet."
"I'm not sure if you could call what I have a dream exactly. I did manage to get ambition though, and aspiring to be more like Tracy Strauss is a difficult but I think good ambition to try and follow. And, y'know, I'll tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, at all." Magnes smiles mischiviously, as if he's about to let her in on a horrible secret, then leans in and whispers. "Tracy Strauss is who taught me to French kiss, then she said never mention it to her again."
Leaning back into his book, he rubs his chin. "I'm still a bit confused about how that happened, but anyway, she's an admirable business woman. She has her whole life together, she works for the president, she's confident and strong. I wanna be like that, and not just confident in the sense that I'm sure I could wipe the floor with most of the people on the planet."
Delilah rolls her eyes a little at his 'secret', and Samson glances over as if he can sense it. The girl puts a finger into the binding so that she can keep her page while paying attention to Magnes. "Yeah. I want to be like that too- just that I'm not sure how to get there. Some people tell me I'm a bit there anyway. I dunno 'bout that." Her fingertips drum on paper. "I've thought about just opening some sort of business of my own. Then I could do what I wanted."
"Well, think about what you like doing, then think about how that could possibly be a career." Magnes seems satisfied with something, and puts his statistical book away, instead grabbing a book on group psychology. "Me, I've always wanted to save the world, show people I'm not just a useless kid who gets in the way, be a valuable asset to the world. I've had my share of fighting, and I can tell you one thing; if Superman ever lost an eye, well, I'm pretty sure he got it back at some point. Me? I'd like to stop at just an eye. And I'm still pretty sure I somehow lost my arm while I was in the Company, but I still have it, so, not sure what's going on there."
"The only thing I've ever done is be a waitress. Maybe that means I should open a tavern?" Delilah laughs to herself despite knowing full well the meaning, looking over his various books for an umpteenth time. "So what does all of that have to do with being some kind of political assisstant? What happens when you finish the internship?" It's not that she is purposefully clueless, just that she has never had to think about it.
Something on the screen woofs, eliciting a loud response from Samson into the television. OH! BARKING! OMG. D:
Magnes jumps a bit when Samson barks, but goes back to reading his books. "If you want to open a tavern, I'd go into it as a mutual investor, I have the money but nothing to invest it in, and you seem to be the one in need of the dream. 50k should be all I need as emergency money, my job will pretty much take care of housing and any money I need to support my band. I could front you 100k for the tavern." Magnes suggests, quite seriously, though he never lifts his gaze from the book.
"And I'm not sure. The internship is so I can learn how to do Tracy Strauss' job and stuff related to it, more or less. I'd have quite a few options when the internship is over. I suppose I could always join her as a regular employee, getting higher pay and more responsibility. As for the books." He idly waves the hand with his pen at the stack, then lowers it back to the notebook. "Political science depends on a vast amount of subjects. You don't necessarily need to know them all when you're just starting out, but most of this is stuff my parents hammered into my head. They never looted the books from my old house, I mean, who loots books anyway?" If she looks a bit closer, she can see that they're certainly not new books, but they're not library books either.
Delilah can feel her eyebrows lifting high when he offers that quite seriously. "You can't be serious. I didn't actually mean I would, it was a joke." though she does not sound all too convinced of that fact either. "You went back to your old place?"
"Say, did you ever contact them? Your parents? Or do you just never plan to?"
"I still plan to, but I've been trying to get my life together, y'know? I'll take you with me when I go, I promise. And yeah, I went back to my old place. It's still abandoned, but all our stuff is still there, well, what didn't get looted. I put new locks and all on, and had the windows repaired. I'm sure my parents still own it. I grew up in that house." Magnes leans down into his book, squinting and raising a hand to straighten the frame of invisible glasses. A sign that he's studied a lot, as he didn't even seem to notice what he just did. "I think you'd be a great tavern owner. One of those tough British bar ladies. If you wanted to do it, I'd talk to some people I know and give you the money in a second."
"What was that? You don't wear glasses." Delilah is trying So Very Hard not to laugh at him, but she still smiles. "Technically, pub, but tavern just sounds better to me. I even know what I'd call it." And she pauses to think back to months ago, but just for a moment until she brushes it out of mind. "I don't know if it's a good idea, even if you did help me start things. There are some other things I kind of want to do, but I might be able to do it with the tavern thing. Maybe an Inn? With a tavern below? Does that sound too domestic to you?"
Samson barks again, putting back his head and letting out a bray-like howl, which lasts just a few seconds. Barrrooo?
"Er, sorry. That's right, you met me after I started wearing contacts, I forgot. Contacts are still kind of recent for me. A while back, Isabelle," He pauses, smiling at the name. "She kind of gave me a whole makeover type thing. She was there when I got my contacts. But I guess old habits die hard."
He closes his book, sitting it on the table as he pulls the notebook into his lap, then starts to idly doodle the table of elements, something he had to definitely get hammered into his head by parents who wanted him to go into physics. "I don't know, I like the sound of an inn. A lot of the greatest adventures started at an inn. Besides, how many of those do you see around anymore? I think it'd be great. And Samson scares me sometimes. One day he's gonna break the bedroom door down, find me on top of you, and kill me, I'm telling you." he teases, looking at the dog, from his book.
"Ah. And yeah, Inns have a romanticism about them, I think. The pub on my block when I was little was The Dancing Boar- we always went there on Friday evenings for dinner." Dee glances over to Samson, who can't seem to decide if he wants to listen to them or make noises at the pit bulls on the screen. "Yes. He probably would. Didn't you ever wonder why I'd lock the door or lock him inside the sewing room? Otherwise make sure he was nowhere around?" Dee laughs and grins, putting in her bookmark and lying the book down off of her knees.
"He is trained to hurt people. I took him to a training clinic for guard dogs a several months ago because I wanted to see what he knew. Turns out that the old guy that had him really did a number- he's got a lot of commands under that collar."
"You're lucky though, I've always wanted a pet. I wonder if they allow pets in the new building I'm moving into… I wonder if I even know how to take care of a pet. Maybe I should buy a capuchin, I mean a monkey that can use the toilet sounds easy enough." Magnes suggests, suddenly leaning over to lay his head on her shoulder. "Why don't you talk to a few friends, go look at some empty buildings, and see how you feel about this whole tavern thing? I'm sure the Flint Deckards of the world would be grateful for a cheap place to stay and great drunk for the night."
"No, Magnes. No monkeys. They are basically like having a two year old for thirty years. You're not prepared for that. With how you're expecting your lifestyle to be, get a cat or a little dog. Or a big lazy one." Delilah pokes at him when he leans over onto her shoulder. "I think I might. Even if I can't do it now, maybe sometime in the future. Maybe I'll talk to people and it'll turn out that a place like that is needed- but we already have places that we frequent. Our circles, I mean. I think I could look for one of those corner buildings though. Just like the old one before it burned up."
Ferrymen> Bombo Delilah says, "hay"
"Aw alright, I'll look around for a dog that'll fit me, I don't think I'm a cat person, I mean, cats aren't dogs, dogs are awesome!" Magnes tosses his notebook on the table, wrapping his arms around her waist as he starts to lean against her a bit more. "Definitely look into it. I don't think I'm the business owner type, unless I decide to open a comic shop or something, but it'll be years before I'm free enough to devote my time to owning a business."
He looks up at her from her shoulder, asking a question with infinite implications behind it. "Sooo… can I stay over tonight? I'll cook breakfast like usual."
Delilah's arm loops around his shoulders, palm ruffling slightly at the back of his hair, fingers scratching at the back of his neck. Dogs are awesome, sure. "We'll see how it goes. I love the idea, if it took off all the better." Maybe it really is what she is good at- being maternal, that is. Feeding people, keeping them entertained, giving them a place to stay.
"You can stay. But if I end up too tired then you're gonna have to live with that. I'm feeling the winter blues."
"I'm sure you'll do great things when you put your mind to it." Magnes leans in, catching her lips with his, though he does break the kiss to shoot Samson a cautious look, just to be safe. "And hey, winter is all about finding ways to keep warm. I know about…" He raises a hand to count his fingers. "Eleven of them. Twelve if you count… well, let's just say I know twelve." he grins quite confidently, his mood shifting entirely.
Delilah returns the short kiss on the lips, and when he turns to glance at the dog she laughs and puts a second onto his cheek. If dogs could squint out of suspicion, Samson looks like he might be. He looks tempted to go over. "Well, I've got thirteen."