Participants:
| Scene Title | Tomorrow Might Not Stink So Much |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Stealing a moment of quiet after the exodus from Roosevelt Island, Devon and Melissa discuss the events and formulate a measure for humanity. |
| Date | February 12, 2011 |
It's not been long since the…situation…was resolved, but still, a lot of people haven't moved far from where they where when it ended. For some it's enough that they could walk out of the station and into the 'fresh' air. Melissa's one of those. For now she's shrugged the vest Perry gave her on, not wanting to worry him, and her pistol has been slipped back into its hiding place. And she's found a nice spot of wall to sit and lean against, while she smokes a cigarette, eyes closed.
In the time it took for people to exit the tunnels, Devon had found a second rifle and passed it off to Perry. The one he'd found just moments before is slung over his uninjured shoulder to hang along his back. The teenager had also stayed back from those coming out of the tunnels, directing and keeping a watchful eye out for any more excitement, but staying distant from the Roosevelt Island exiles.
Now, though, that the press has thinned and the wounded are being tended to, the teenager begins seeking out known faces. After crossing the street a time or two, circling around buildings, Devon comes upon Melissa. Wordlessly he sits beside her, his rifle moved so his back and head can rest against the wall comfortably. His eyes focus somewhere beyond, still observant of the Dome refugees and still alert for further trouble.
The whisper of movement from someone sitting beside her has Melissa's eyes opening and shifting over to Devon, and she gives him a weak smile. "Hey honey. How you doing? Stupid question, I know, but I'm a worrywort," she says, taking another hit off her cigarette and leaning her head back against the wall. "You did good."
"It's getting crazy in here," Devon replies, voice quiet. It's not exactly an answer to how he's doing, but the situation has placed it near the front of his thoughts. With a faint wince, he pulls his injured arm up slightly, to cradle between his knees and other arm. The rest of the bruises and scrapes from the explosion are sumarily ignored. "How long you think sanity's going to hold out before hell really breaks loose here?"
The wince and favoriting of his arm has Melissa frowning and immediately using her ability to take the pain away. "Let me take a look at your arm. No doctor, but as you can tell from all my scars, I've been hurt plenty." She gives a faint smile. "It's given me plenty of hands on experience, so to speak."
She drops her cigarette, crushing it out with the toe of her boot. "And I don't know. We're working on gathering everyone together, once people are patched up, to talk. Hopefully it'll help extend the sanity for a little while, but I can't promise anything. It's why I want you to stick close to either me or Perry. We'll keep you safe."
"It's fine, just tweaked it or something." Devon, as the pain is relieved, relaxes a fraction. "Landed wrong or something but I"ll live. There's people worse off than me. They should be seen to first." He glances up at Melissa, then nods. It goes without saying, as he hasn't wandered off yet. "I'll be there, help keep order." Maybe offer an idea or two, but mostly be a presence to hopefully help contain some idea of civilization.
His face is studied at his assurance, but finally Melissa nods, though she ensures that, for at least a little longer, he's kept pain free. "I'll see if I can find some tylenol or something for you. All I've got on me are migraine meds, unfortunately, and I can't keep the pain away for too much longer," she says apologetically.
The other bit makes her smile. "You're doing good with that. I was surprised, with the gun, but proud. You kept your head, you didn't let the situation force you into accidentally pulling the trigger. It's what a lot of people would've done. Especially people your age, who haven't been around this kind of bullshit before."
Looking away, eyes going back to the street and the way out from the subway tunnels, Devon shakes his head. "Use your power on those who're more hurt, or save it for when it's really needed," he asks. That shoulder's going to throb something horrible, and he'll have to take some time to look at it later, but for now there's people who could do with it more than him or there could be worse later on.
Shifting slightly, the boy glances at Melissa again. "Thanks," he says, a tired grin working it's way free. Just a small one, but the first he's shown in a week. "Wouldn't have done to just go crazy and start shooting. Not knowing what was up here…"
Melissa lifts a hand, reaching over the squeeze his uninjured shoulder lightly. "I can't help the ones who are hurt the worst. It'd give me a migraine at the very least right now, after so much use of my ability, and right now I need to keep a clear head, just in case something else happens."
She draws her hand back and stretches out her legs. "And no, it wouldn't have done to just go crazy. Which is why I said you did good. You stuck close, you kept it together, you used your brain. And that is the most powerful weapon and defense you have. Regardless of abilities, the mind is always more powerful."
"Save your cool little trick for later," Devon says again, head tilting back and resting against the wide of the building. It's a request, he doesn't need the pain negated so much as he thinks Melissa should rest, limited knowledge of abilities and all. "Might need it after that meeting." The teenager lets out a breath and returns his attention to the few people, survivors from the journey away from Roosevelt Island. "You and Perry can count on me to keep it together. I'll watch your backs."
It's clear that Melissa doesn't want to give in to that request, but eventually, she does, her ability easing off before it fades entirely, so that the pain returns gradually rather than sharp and immediate. "I know you will," she says to his last comment, sounding as though she means it. "But Devon? I'll tell you a secret. It's okay to be scared, and it's okay if you feel like you need to vent, to get it all out. No one with a brain will think any less of you."
The return of pain is marked only by a tightening in the teenager's face, he makes no complaints. Devon allows a couple of moments to pass, one to readjust his mind around the pain of his shoulder and the second to let Melissa's words settle in. "I know," he says, somberness returning. "And… I'm terrified. I keep going because… it helps, but I'm scared. I hardly eat, I can't sleep."
Melissa nods knowingly. "Yeah, that'll happen. Though you need to eat, even if you have to force yourself. I know it's hard, I know sometimes just thinking about food can make you nauseous, but you need to keep up your strength. Sleep…unless you wanna loot a pharmacy and steal some sleep meds, I don't have much to offer there. Sometimes just going until you're dead exhausted works. If you were a little older I'd suggest the occasional drunk as a sleep aid."
"I've actually considered getting drunk," Devon admits to. "Not sure it'd help, but I won't say I haven't thought it." He gives a small shrug of his good shoulder. "You seem to be holding up alright though. You and Perry both. Like you've lived through this shit before."
That gets him a faint smile and Melissa shrugs. "I told you I was in Moab, right? And it seems that I always end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. I've been shot, stabbed, beaten, near an explosion or two, had multiple abilities used on me, been drugged…This is unusual for me, the situation as a whole, but bits and pieces of it? Yeah, it's not entirely unheard of."
"I know that feeling." Devon frowns slightly, giving a small pull to his injured arm. "The whole being in the wrong place part. Back there wasn't the first explosion I got caught in." In truth, he'd seen some share of chaos as well. But the role he's taken on himself, that's a little different. "What do you miss, being trapped inside here?"
The question makes Melissa's brow furrow as she considers, though it doesn't last long before her expression smoothes. "Freedom. Being able to come and go as I please. Work. Electricity." She laughs and shakes her head. "And showering. I really miss hot showers. Or any showers, for that matter. Another week and this place is going to be unliveable with the smell of all the unwashed masses."
"Showers definitely," Devon agrees. He could certainly use one himself. "Though we could find — We've got some water, right? The tunnels, are filling with it, but…" The teenager sits up suddenly, resulting in a wince and his hand going to his injured shoulder with a grunt. "Why aren't we boiling water and rigging up wash stations?"
"That's a good question. Wanna set that up? Get people gathering it, boiling it? Perry can probably help you figure out how to rig up something if you want to do some sort of makeshift shower," Melissa says, nodding, knowing that keeping busy is probably the best thing he can do right now.
"If I can't get it to work, I'll find Perry." Devon pushes himself upright, carefully but not without the pained look. "There's enough around to work with, making something up shouldn't be too difficult." And maybe with showers, even luke warm showers maybe there will be a little more civility. With the one hand, he pushes the rifle back into place along his back, then turns and looks at Melissa. "We'll make it."
Melissa smiles and nods. "Yeah, we will. Now get to work. I know we're not the only ones who would love a shower. Even a jury rigged one. And who knows, it might make that sanity hold a little longer if we're not smelling each other. I'll see about getting people to hunt for soap."
With a nod, Devon turns to begin down the streets. Some of the people he comes upon are asked to begin gathering water, while others are asked to find anything that can be used for creating fire and boiling water. As those few are sent off, the teenager begins eying the few vehicles that still sit on the streets. There's useful things under those hoods, things that could make life in the dome a little easier. Another small nod has the boy turning again in search of tools and paper. There will be showers in the near futre.
Tomorrow might not stink so much.