This IS Plan A


daphne_icon.gif monica_icon.gif

Scene Title This IS Plan A
Synopsis Daphne is looped in to Monica's plans for bettering her living conditions.
Date October 10, 2011

Eltingville Blocks

Early evening in the fall means that most people are inside, abiding by curfew, especially as the news outside of Eltingville seems to grow more dire for the Evolved and their families. Still, it's possible to avoid guards, especially for someone who knows the layout of the streets and who has studied the patrol patterns (and lack thereof) of the humans who guard the blocks.

Those who listen carefully might also pick up on the idiosyncrasies of particular guards — when they take their illicit smoke breaks. Where they prefer to sit and talk when they don't feel like actually working. Who can be lied to. Who can be flirted with, to get out of trouble.

Daphne knows a lot of these things — she's not as afraid of the humans as she is of the robots. So she doesn't mind breaking the rules inside the fences, most days. Tonight she's walking, perhaps simply because no one else is really around and there's more free space to do so. She has made it easier to hide in the shadows, though, wearing a dark hoodie, dark jeans, dark sneakers. Her footfalls are quiet as she walks slowly, glancing in the lit windows of the row houses, though most have their blinds drawn.

Someone else seems to like the darker hours, although Monica is still sporting a floral hoodie so stands out a little more. And maybe also because she's sitting up a tree, which only works out if people are not inclined to look up. But, she knows that the guards already checked this street and that they are unlikely to come back soon. Not without reason.

Her spot does give her a good view, though, so when she sees Daphne walking nearby, she lifts her eyebrows and gets a smile on her face. And makes a noise that could maybe sound like a bird, if that bird had a cold.

The sound makes the speedster cock an eyebrow as her head cants, and she looks for the source of the noise. It takes a second to find the woman in the tree, but when she does she snorts, glancing around to make sure no one's watching, then moves closer to the tree, leaning on the trunk. "Do you need me to call the fire department?" she whispers up, but it's probably a joke. It's hard to tell a person's done in a whisper, after all.

When Daphne spots her, Monica waves. Innocently. "Do we even have a fire department?" That, too, is a joke. Although, with a bit of truth in it, since she has her doubts. "I have been pondering how likely I am to get a twisted ankle from jumping out of this tree," she says, as if this is a normal thing for people to ponder, "so I might need someone to help me get to medical." She gives Daphne a questioning look there, silently asking for her assistance.

"There's a fire department. I doubt any of the people working it are real firefighters though. Could be wrong," says Daphne. She clearly hasn't given it too much thought. The proposal Monica gives makes her tilt her head again, squinting up at Monica. "Why the hell do you want to jump out of the tree?" she asks. "And how do you make sure you don't do anything worse to yourself — like crack your head open?"

She looks down at her own ankle as if to consider how to sprain it without accidentally breaking it. The anklet there might give her some theories on Monica's plot. The speedster looks back up. "I mean, I could probably do some damage to it using speed but I don't know if I could keep it from breaking. I don't usually use it to hurt people." Her expression sobers a little, remember at least one time she's accidentally harmed someone with her super speed.

"Well, that's something, at least. Tell me they have actually hoses and not just a line of people and a bucket." Monica's opinion of this community is not high, obviously. But, to the plan at hand, she seems lost on the matter of why, or maybe she thinks it's obvious, so she skips the matter entirely. "Well, I was counting on my parkour skills to help me not crack my head open. Actually, I'm having more trouble actually landing wrong in the right way than hurting myself accidentally." As opposed to on purpose. Which is what she is doing tonight, apparently.

The offer does get some consideration, but ultimately, Monica shakes her head. "I would rather not have it broken. A twist should be enough to get medical attention without damaging it so much that I can't run on it. It's delicate, because I'd rather not sprain it, either, but swelling is probably my best chance."

"No promises," says Daphne about the fire department and its equipment. "Right. I mean, we could just hit it with a hammer, too, but if you want to jump out of a tree and possibly crack your head open, sure, I'll help you to get medical help. You got a story ready? You're a bit old to be climbing and falling out of trees just for fun, and if they suspect anything deliberate," she glances at her own ankle monitor, "you might end up somewhere worse than here. Trust me, this isn't as bad as it gets."

"I was gonna go with 'I fell' and hope that covers it." Monica might not have considered that part before this exactl moment. "I don't have any stories that cover hitting it with a hammer, either. Stepped off a curb wrong? Why didn't I ever watch youtube videos of people hurting themselves?" That last one is ask to the universe, rather than to Daphne herself. "You don't have to convince me of that. I'm a little surprised the put me in here to start with, given all the givens. But maybe they think the tracker will help."

"It might. But they might ask follow up questions. Curb could work. Simple is best, when it comes to lying," Daphne says with a nod, staning now with one hand on one hip. "The tracker works pretty well. You don't want those robots coming after you, trust me on that." She's an expert when it comes to a whole lot of things, apparently. "Hindsight's ever perfect. Did you ever think you'd regret not watching a bunch of Jackass? The irony." She grins a little, before stepping back. "Let me do a quick perimeter check, make sure no one's watching."

With that, she becomes a dark blur until a second or two later she comes back from the opposite direction, having just done a circle around the block. "Clear."

"Yeah, especially for me. I'm pretty terrible at it. That's a thing you can't learn by watching." Monica pauses there, an idea hitting her. "Actually. Microexpressions? That's something to try, right? I mean, later." She looks down at Daphne with a crooked smile, "I did not. Most people get to regret actually watching it instead." She nods to the plan of having a look around, since she obviously can't do that from up a tree. And not half as well as Daphne is able to do it.

So when she comes back with her report, Monica shifts in the tree, judges her angle and the distance, does a practice start or two and then jumps from the tree…

And hits the ground in a roll that brings her up to her feet, unharmed. It takes her a second to realize that was the opposite of what she wanted, but when it hits her, she lets out an emphatic, "Shoot!" Turning back, she starts back up the tree again, muttering to herself.

Daphne watches, arms crossed. When Monica rolls and ends up on her feet, she raises a brow. "I give that a 9.8 but I think that isn't what we're looking for today. What if push you when you're not ready?" she asks, but grins, apparently only kidding. "Keep the one foot locked. More likely to jolt it that way. If all else fails, I can just kick you. There's that vein that goes right across the ankle bone — you hit that the right way, you're guaranteed to swell up like an old man's prostate."

"One foot locked, I can do that." Right, Monica? You can do that. Getting back in position, she chuckles at Daphne's colorful simile. "Let's call that Plan B. But, very evcoative." She cracks her neck and takes a moment to look over her landing zone again. "Foot locked. Easy peasy," she says to herself. And she takes in a breath and jumps again. And this time, she hits the ground in a heap, clutching her ankle as if this outcome were a surprise. But really, it just hurts. "Oh god, why'd you let me do that?" she asks Daphne, through the many pained noises.

"You're welcome. I have a way with words," Daphne says, shivering a little as a chilly October wind blows through the street, rustling the few leaves left on the branches of the tree that Monica is perched in. When Monica falls (successfully?) she nods once. "Two point seven. Congratulations." But she moves forward to crouch at Monica's feet, to make sure it's not really broken. "Did you feel any snap? I hope you didn't actually break it," she says, her brows drawing together as she looks down, putting a gentle hand on Monica's shoulder. "I hope for your sake this works. What's the plan? They'll probably just put the thing on the other leg, and then you're hobbled and still have an ankle monitor. Unless you just really want some drugs." Her eyes come up to seek Monica's, studying them for signs of withdrawal maybe. "I can get you drugs. Probably." Amadeus can, anyway.

"Thanks," Monica says to the congratulations and she shifts to sit up as Daphne takes a look at her injury. "Didn't feel a snap, but still. Might have overdone it." She looks up at Daphne at the touch to her shoulder and her expression turns more serious. "I'm gonna learn how to take it off," she says, "Then when I have my exit strategy, I can pop it and go." There's a pause before she adds, "If you want to join me, I'd be happy to have you."

"Oh." Daphne hadn't given Monica's ability that much thought, clearly. Of course, they hadn't discussed it at great length. She's quiet a moment, her teeth raking over her lower lip as she considers the option. Finally she shakes her head. "Can't. But thanks for the offer to take me as your plus one," she says, her tone a little too easy-breezy even for the impish speedster.

"I will help you get your crazy escape artist ass to the med building, though." She stands, then offers her hands to pull Monica up, then maneuvers herself to act as a human crutch for Monica. She's been on the receiving side many times, of course. "If I don't see you, I'll hope you made it out somehow and aren't being used as a guinea pig by the Institute or the Company or the DoEA or whoever's the bad guy this week."

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