Participants:
| Scene Title | Treats and Blades |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A trip for ice cream turns into a dangerous encounter with James Nelson. |
| Date | July 15, 2010 |
Near Gun Hill
Elaine had felt the need for ice cream. So she suggested it, decided that there was no taking 'no' for an answer, and offered to buy Sable a ridiculously large sundae. Thankfully, she was aware of a little stand that stayed open later than most, giving them the opportunity to go get freshly-made sundaes. Once said ice cream had been purchased, Elaine looks around. "Should we just eat in here or should we go find somewhere else to eat them? It's a nice evening."
Sable is really not sure what to do with her ice cream. Ice cream is a confection, and as such is not something that often makes its way into her life. She'll take a girl out to ice cream as part of a ongoing seduction campaign, but in such cases the dessert itself is secondary to what she's really got her eye on. Ice cream for ice cream's sake seems… crazily luxurious. Plus having her own sundae is unheard of - you always share on a date. How else can you pull all the necessary ploys?
But Elaine's question distracts her momentarily from the towering mystery of her own personal sundae, and she look around. "Bench somewhere? Mebbe a park? I know how t' keep homeless folk away. Just gotta act crazier th'n them if they get close, scare 'em off." She'd know, having been homeless for some time herself. The things you learn.
What a surprise for James! An evening of scoping out Gun Hill was very fruitful for him. Elaine, how could you be so foolish as to forget that James could possibly know where you lived! Either way, he had to make sure that Elaine and that one girl that was going with her couldn't see him, following very far behind, sometimes even losing them. Thankfully, he sees them go to the parlor, smiling, knowing that all was needed now was to play the waiting game. Ducking into an alley they'd have to pass by to get back to their apartment, he leans against the brick, staring at the street, like a lion waiting for its prey.
"Yeah, lets just find a bench, then. Or a park. Or both." Elaine points out, grinning. She leads the way to a small attempt by New York City to make the place a little more classy—a little paved off area with four benches settled around a large fenced-in tree. Not quite a park, but it did have benches. Settling down on one, she proceeds to hand Sable her ice cream. "Eat or it'll get melty."
Sable receives her sundae. Right. Dessert's to be eaten. And eating is something Sable can do, something she usually takes to with gusto. She sits down, and then takes to the dessert like an engineer to a failing levy. It's not blazing hot out, but it's still a summer evening, and she desperately tries to keep ahead of the melting and teetering, catching fudge here, shoring up whipped cream there - she eats the cherry as soon as its resting place becomes structurally unsound. With both hands occupied in this - for her - monumental task, she ends up with a fair bit of smudging around her mouth, in chocolate browns and vanilla whites. She's not chatty. She's either eating, or planning her next bite, a decision that takes no small mental agility.
Elaine's content to let them fall into silence while they eat, hungrily working at hers with fervor. She carefully makes sure not to get an ice cream headache, though, not eating it so quickly as to cause one: no one likes those. She steals a glance towards Sable only to giggle as she notes the smudgey mess around her face.
Sable's eyes cut over to Elaine, squinting suspicion at that giggle. "Whasso goddamn funny?" she says, "Am I doin' somethin' wrong? I didn't get t' go t' know charm school, dig?" She smirks, her smudged lips looking like who knows what, "I get by on all-natural charisma, baby."
Elaine can't help but giggle again, reaching her fingers up to carefully attempt to wipe away the smudges. She looks conflicted as she notes it doesn't work, then fishes around for a napkin before proceeding to wipe. "You're as bad as a little kid."
And Sable struggles like a little kid, resisting the attempts. "Aw, hell," she says, "I c'n do it m'self!" she scoots away from Elaine, trying to escape, waving her spoon in Elaine's direction, warding her off and then going so far as to leap to her feet, treading backwards. "Y' mind yer own mouth!"
"Okay, okay!" Elaine puts her hands up in concession, proceeding to dig into more of her sundae. It's going by quickly. "So, was this the best idea ever, or what? I think it's one of the few things worth leaving the apartment for!"
Sable stays mobile, stays on her feet. Now her hand is catching some of the dripping fudge. What a mess. Luckily she's not the sort that minds. She'll go so far as to lick herself clean. Like hell she lets calories go to waste. A long history of not knowing the source of one's next meal has made her have few such qualms. "I'll give it t' y'," she admits, almost grudgingly, "This'll pretty fuckin' fine," she pauses, "Gal, y' ever been stoned?" She puts the question out there with some tentativeness, which is unusual for her.
"What, me?" Elaine giggles. "I may look like a rebel, but that's the kind of stuff I wouldn't necessarily know how to get into on my own. Never tried." Spoon is wiped clean by tongue, making sure to get all of the fudge before it is returned for another happy bite. "I'd wager you know more about that than I do."
"Well, darlin', I ain't properly connected yet," Sable says, eyes darting from side to side in a pointlessly conspiratorial motion, "But I'd love t' smoke you out. 'n' I can't even tell y' how this," she jabs her spoon at her sundae, "Would taste when yer blazed. Like damn, girl. Y' won't've lived 'til y' hit this up when y've got the fuckin' munchies."
There's a bit of a laugh, and Elaine's kinda blushing now. "I can't believe the stuff I'd let you talk me into, but I would. Only for you, though, Sable. Sheesh. I thought I was supposed to be keeping you on the straight and narrow, not letting you drag me off it!" She takes another bite from her sundae, working her way to grab the cherry and popping that in her mouth.
Sable rolls her eyes. "Jeez, gal, y' drink dontcha? Drink's a devil t' th' mere imp 'f green," she says, "Drink'll make y' sloppy 'n' mean 't times. It'll make y' sick 'n' hurt 'n' it'll drag y' down, down, down. Weed's only gonna make y' sleepy 'n' hungry if y' do too much. Plus," her grin gleams, "Don't take away from performance. Much th' opposite, in fact."
"Hey, I don't know about you, but I'm a happy drunk. And I ain't ever puked on anyone's carpet." Elaine grins. "But I'll try it one of these days. You've convinced me. And considering the food that Magnes always has around… I bet we can make the munchies a hell of an experience, hmm?" She grins.
Sable purses her lips. "Now, see… I've got half a joint back home, what I was savin' f'r, like, preservin' th' new way," the switch from alcohol to marijuana is, to her, an important step from the dangerous life philosophy of the Who towards the more serene path of Hendrix, her own attempt at self transformation, "But since we're both 'f us lightweights f'r sure…" Her brow arches, "Have I convinced y' quick 'nuff to lure y' back home f'r some illegal activity, darlin'?"
"You are exactly the sorta gal that my parents would have warned me about." Elaine comments, finishing up her sundae. "Thankfully, they would have been way more worried if you were a guy, so I think they might just have let it slide and pretended they didn't know said illegal activity was going on." She chuckles. "So… does this mean I get to be the official band groupie if I've done all the groupie activities, then?" She moves to throw away the empty container that once had ice cream, wiping her hands and mouth with a napkin before letting that, too, fall into the nearby trash bin.
Sable lets out a laugh at this. "Jesus. Sure, hon, sure. Yer th' Queen 'f the Groupies. All other groupies must seek yer approval 'n' meet yer exactin' standards. When we get some other groupies. 'til then, though," she drops her own empty cup in the trash can as well, and takes Elaine's hand in her unsticky one, squeezing it, "I don' think we c'n ask f'r more th'n you, darlin'." She smiles, all fondness, and then begins, charmingly, to clean her fingers. Nope. No charm school graduate here.
Elaine can't blame her for licking her fingers. If Elaine thought there was anything left on hers she might have done the same. "Well, you don't need more than me, but I'll be happy to show your future groupies how it's done." She winks. "It'll be a full time job, though, since you'll have so many when you guys are ridiculously famous rockers."
Sable keeps hold of Elaine's hand as they make their way back towards Gun Hill. Sable's as efficient as she is thorough about cleaning her fingers and, after clearing a fingernail with the tip of her sharp canine, she's as good as new, though there's still a fudge smudge at the corner of her mouth. "Aw, well," Sable says, "Don't wanna, like, overwhelm m'self. I'd hate t' lose th' magic of it, y'know? Lovin' ain't somethin' that outta ever feel commonplace, dig?" Lovin', of course, being euphemistic. Sable would never suggest actual love would ever be able to feel commonplace.
As they walk along towards their apartment, they might feel a very strange sensation about them. Like, someone was following them. Indeed, a man in a trenchcoat seemed to following them, getting closer to their pace. He doesn't seem very conspicuous, nothing out of the ordinary, but he's been following them for a while. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Or perhaps it could be something worse.
"Yeah, I try to remind Magnes of that." Elaine giggles. "But try telling that to rabbits. Besides.. you gotta make your groupies earn it! There are only so many nights… they gotta earn the privilege. Gotta be special." She seems amused at the idea, squeezing Sable's hand. "Kinda makes me wonder what things will look like in like, five years." She pauses just a little, frowning. "Sable…" She asks, voice lower. "Something feel off to you..?"
Sable has been three things in her life: homeless, small and female. This is not an ideal combination. This is a combination that places her very low on a large, dangerous food chain populated by the desperate, the vicious and the unstable. Sable has been very lucky, but where luck cannot quite cut it, she's been smart and quick to learn.
She knows when she's being followed.
She'd love to banter back with Elaine, to project into five years hence (about two years to live, Sable thinks, though she's less quick to bring that up around Elaine nowadays). But she feels it too. She hears the footsteps, keeping their distance while slowly closing it. Her voice pitches low. "Don't you worry, darlin'. We're just gonna cross th' street 'n' keep t' th' lights f'r now, dig? Stick with me." She squeezes Elaine's hand.
The man, whoever it was, kept on their tail, blatantly but slowly moving closer to them. As they crossed the street, it seems like the man was going to keep to the other side for a while, but eventually, he crosses after a time. A mugger? Or someone intending to assault them both? Do they really want to know who it was? Something about the coat might strike Elaine as vaguely familiar, as if she might've seen that ragged light brown overcoat somewhere before.
Elaine keeps her hand in Sable's, giving her a look. "Right. Okay." She murmurs. Her eyes are peeled, just in case she might catch something. She's trying to make sure, at the very least, she's not going to have someone else come out of nowhere. She notes the man who isn't quite making any extra effort to seem like he's not following. "Sable, I have a bad feeling…"
"Don't you worry, hon," Sable says softly, thumb stroking against Elaine's hand, trying to remain comforting despite the obvious danger in the situation. Her other hand is slipping slowly into her pocket. Thank God she asked Tamara. Thank God she listened to her. And that means she can see what's coming. She's a step ahead, if only barely. "Just stay close 'til I tell y' otherwise."
"I know you've deceived me but here's a surprise -" Sable starts singing, low but audibly, "I know that you have 'cause there's magic in my eyes -" the hand in her pocket finds something, manipulates it, "I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…"
Closer and closer. He is now not even 5 yards away. Easily within lunging distance of the two. There is no one around now, all the commuters going home to rest. Dark sans for the streetlights dotting the street. His time is now. And maybe, it's the same with Sable. Strike now, and end it there.
And by now, if Elaine were to turn around, she would be paralyzed with fear. She could see who it was as he passed by one of the aforementioned streetlights. She could see the maniacally grinning face of one James Nelson.
Elaine doesn't even need to turn around. She already knows. The hand in Sable's grips tighter. "He's come to take me…" She murmurs, though she still waits on Sable. The yellow-eyed girl has an idea, and she'll just have to wait on it. She just has to not look at him and keep walking for now.
"Now darlin'," Sable says, low, "Y' know I ain't about t' let anythin' 'f the sort happen." She squeezes her hand, voice a whisper, but clear. "I turn, you run. All th' way back home. 'n' you tell whoever y' can."
The yellow eyed girl turns her head and catches the approaching figure from the corner of her eyes, trying to look like she's just talking to Elaine. Magnes' earlier test did enlighten her a little, despite the fact that he had to smack her to prove the point - she has to keep her eyes on him.
"If you think that I don't know about the little tricks you play - And never see you when deliberately you put things in my way - Well, here's a poke at you - You're gonna choke on it too - You're gonna lose that smile - Because all the while…" What's that in the low singsong of her voice?
Is that mocking?
The man stops walking as he is noticed, looking almost surprised beneath his baseball cap. He smiles. "…I can see for miles and miles…? Is that what you're singing? Yeah, I can hear you, not that far from you." James removes his cap, showing his face for the first time to Sable. "Hello Elaine. Nice to see you once more, though I am a bit angry at your little self-righteous stunt you pulled. I'll have to show you the proper way to act around me." He tilted his head, acknowledging Sable. "Though I'm not sure why you had to bring along this slut. You could've easily come back to me without her."
Elaine is tense. That's pretty clear. She's doing her best to focus, keeping her gaze turned from James. She won't look at him. She won't give him that power. "I can't leave you alone with him." The redhead says, softly. "We need to find somewhere to hide…" She looks in front of her, trusting that Sable has the rear.
"Hon, please…" Sable says, low and urgent, praying that Elaine does as she asked and runs, "At a disadvantage if I gotta tend t' you too…" James is close enough that he might catch some of this. Sable hopes for as little as possible, though. She wants to keep up her front. She turns. That's Elaine's cue.
Sable's smile is wide, bright and toothy. She looks ferociously cheerful. Combined with her yellow eyes, she looks crazy. More than usual. Much more. Both hands are slipped into her pockets, the lean of her shoulders making her insolent. "Know yer Who, huh?" she says, "Tell me you th' bad man, boy? The sad man behind blue eyes? Does no one know what it's like t' be you?" this last is spoken in low, sorrowful mocking, her corners of her lips tugging down before, elastic, springing back into that grin.
She starts singing again, apparently some sort of tactic, or maybe just some sort of display of tension, some expression of her own nervousness. She doesn't look nervous. "But my dreams - They aren't as empty - As my conscience seems to be - I have hours, only lonely - My love is vengeance - That's never free.." The last syllable is warbled out, taking on the aspect of a croon.
James smiles a genuine smile at Sable. "My, for a whore, you sure have class. Nothing really beats the Who." James sort of bows. "You know, I should thank you. For taking care of my Elaine. She went and ran off during the storm, and I've been worried sick. Now she's well and I'm glad that she's been taken care of." He gives Sable a serious look. "However, she is mine, and I'll have her back please." His tone is familiar to Elaine. A tone of nondefiance. A tone that could get someone killed.
While silently hating herself for it, Elaine releases Sable's hand. She doesn't look back towards James, but just begins to run, feet carrying her quickly as she tries to move towards Gun Hill. She silently hopes Sable has enough sense to get away too, as soon as she can. The redhead's praying that nothing distracts her.
"Classiest y'll ever meet, boy," Sable agrees, cheerfully, the mad mirth in her voice increasing if it does anything, "Y' want some of this?" Her feet spread. She's adopting something like a stance. Magnes has taught her a little. Some of that little has stuck. She learns fighting quick. She learns dancing quick. Just something she's got a knack for. "Come 'n' get me, tiger."
James shakes his head with a smile. "I don't have a quarrel with you, lady. I'm just here to get what's mine." His last three words are heavily accented with a touch of anger and insanity. He tilts over, as if yelling to Elaine. In fact… "Elaine, go ahead and wait outside Gun Hill. I'll be there shortly after this whore decides to move." He looks at Sable for a second. "I don't know exactly what you were trying to do to her, but she'll never be yours. She belongs to me."
The words of James are ignored. Elaine's having no problems… she's still going just fine, regardless of what's being said. Her feet continue the rest of the way, pivoting and bursting into the doors of Gun Hill.
"You hurtin', boy, that it? You looonely?" Sable says, easing forward a few steps, advancing slowly, "Poor boy. Loves so hard, so rough. Folks think ill 'f 'im, but they just don't unnerstand…" and she starts singing again. Trying, maybe, to outcrazy the crazy, like she's proposed earlier. "No one knows what it's like - To feel these feelings - Like I do - And I blame you - No one bites back as hard - On their anger - None of my pain and woe - Can show through."
She winks, "Got y' pegged, mebbe? Comon' now, sugar. Let me keep y' company - whore's callin'. Dance with me."
James looks at Sable quirkily. "…I wonder. How many men broke your heart to make you turn to women? At least, I assume it's women, the way you turn to jelly around Elaine, it's truly disgusting." He smiles, as if he realizes something. "Heh, you're all talk and no show! You roar like a lion, but really, you're a harmless cat." He walks towards her, but moving to the side, almost ignoring her. "If you'll excuse me, I've got my property to retrieve. You have a nice day now, kitty."
Sable didn't want to make the first move. She'd rather have seen him coming, trusted in her reactions, gotten a bit of a read on him, like she did when Magnes came at her in training. Lacking that, she'd rather he show his back to her - she doesn't fight fair, because fighting fair, when you're a little as she, is just playing it stupid. But she isn't going to let him past her, not going to risk him dashing after Elaine, leaving her to chase with her shorter legs and a belly full of ice cream. So she has to act first. She doesn't like it, but that's the way it's gotta be.
She shuffle steps quickly, getting in his way, getting close, then lunges, hands leaving her pockets. In her right is gripped the silver handle and short blade of a butterfly knife. Sable swipes up at James' face, a quick stroke aiming for eyes, nose, mouth. Something… attention getting. She never once loses her grin.
James, once more surprised, flinches out of the way. She knew how to fight, but some lunges could be easily dodged if aimed for a narrower place, such as the face. He grabs onto her lunging arm, primarily her hand, catching the clutched fist, grinning as he does. "My, the kitty has some claws." He taunts her with his faux grin as his fist angles into her elbow. However, should it connect rather than hit air, she should notice that it has a lot of power in it. A lot of power. More power than it should have. Enough power to break the joint.
Sable sees this coming. Her adrenaline is pumping and her eyes don't miss a thing. She doesn't get to find out the sort of force James is packing, because she twists free and skitters back, hunching a bit low. Using her height to her best advantage. Punching low might keep him off balance. Worth a shot, at least. "Trouble you, boy, that a gal's got yer gal?" she says, walking sideways like a crab, staying light on her feet. "Don't you worry. I'll just cut off yer pecker, 'n' slice y' a cunt," she winks, "Might improve yer chances."
The next sally, Sable goes for James' belly, a wide stroke of the blade meant to cover her approach more than to actually cause damage. Another thing to do when fighting a taller opponent: get close. Longer limbs aren't as agile if you close the distance.
The punch does catch James off guard, and he stumbles backwards a bit in recoil. However, the next swipe it quite obvious. A slash to the midsection. How predictable. He jumps backwards in reaction to her swipe, bringing his arms forward to catch her, some part of her. Pulling her closer, he brings his elbow down, using the force intended for the punch previous on her back.
She's nimble. Too nimble, in fact. Her assault was reckless and her attacks unpracticed, improvised. Yet when it comes to dodging, she's preternatural. Something may be up. Sable ducks under those grasping arms, sidesteps, and tries lodging her blade into the back of his thigh. The stab comes with a hiss from between clenched, grinning teeth.
James might be able to take a knife, but it still doesn't mean it didn't hurt. He lets out a yelp of pain as the knife dug into his thigh. His face, rather than an annoyed grimace, took the nature of pure rage. Hastily, his hand grabs her arm, still latched onto the knife, presumably, and whips his hand across the air, back first. A severe backhand would hurt enough, but one empowered with his own supernatural force?
The trouble with being down this low, and trying to get around behind James, is that she loses sight of his hands and arms. Which is bad. Because what she can't see, she can't dodge. She finds herself grappled, and unable to twist free, so she yanks out the knife, maximizing her now limited range of motion. Her eyes cut up in time to see the oncoming backhand, so she pivots back, narrowly dodging the new assault. Very narrowly. She cackles. "Gonna fuckin' slap me 'round? Ain't that kinda girl, shitheel." She takes a deep, nasal draw, and hocks up spit into his face, going for his eyes, her left hand going to claim the knife from her trapped arm.
The spit hits its mark, splatter all over James' face. Okay, that's it. He roars loudly, one of utter rage, intending to rip her apart. His free hand slams to the arm he is holding. She couldn't shake that one free, not in his iron grip. As he does so, his hand sweeps around to try to backhand her once again. She could move, he could give her that, but pain was less tolerable than acting crazy.
Pain floods Sable's limb as the sheer force of the blow causes her bone to fracture. She's never felt anything like that before. Her eyes widen in utter horror.
That's her guitar playing arm.
For all that James looks crazy, Sable looks every drop as insane, her own rage manifesting in a feral snarl that curls her lips and a wildness in her already strange eyes that gives her a somewhat inhuman cast. She shrieks like wounded, furious animal, which she is, both. Her head twists down, dodging once more, her reflexes only heightened by the extra boost of adrenaline she's just received, and her left hand, now holding the blade, begins to knife in a frenzied flurry of blows, all aimed at James' gut, a relative wide, close target.
Even in his blind fury, James knows enough to step back from a knife. He jumps backwards to try and dodge the blade. Unsuccessfully, though, as the knife slashes a shallow cut in his belly. Once more, he grabs her, yanking her down on the ground. This was close quarters combat, his specialty, if he had one. With her on the ground face down on the ground, she was ripe for the pillaging. His foot came down where she would be, intending to stomp the life out of her.
She ain't twenty seven yet.
Sable rolls out of the way, with time to spare, her blade flashing out to draw along the descending leg, predicting the course of his movement before it even ends, sharp edge tearing through fabric and flesh. She twists the blade free the moment it reaches his knee, then flicks it around jabbing three times into the arm that's holding hers.
Owowowowowowow. A red line was cut up the stomping leg, the already wounded one, and he immediately lets go. Okay, that's it. He had enough of this shit. He brings his arm around to her, which she might cut, that was a given. But even with just his arm, he could hit her with enough force to break bones, knock her to the ground, to completely incapacitate her. And she might not even know that, only thinking that he was merely trying to grab her, making her even closer for an ending kill.
She won't get fooled again. No way she'll let him get a hold of her, longer legs or no. Not like he was going to get to kick her again. Fucker. Sable darts out of reach, giving the grabbing arm a glancing slash, her blade there moments before the limb, edge dancing across his lower arm, whetting her blade further with blood. Her right arm hangs at her side, worse than useless, pumping her full of pain. The weapon is held out in front of her, and she tries to keep the whole of James in her field of vision. No one should hit that hard. This is fucked. No more taunts, not now.
James yelps at his arm becoming lightly filleted, cuts dancing across his arm. Without waiting for a second, he leans forward, his whole body a rampaging train. He charges her as she tries to move out of the way. His own force, combined with the force he could simply exude at will on her…
Breathlessly, Elaine bursts out of the front doors of Gun Hill. "Couple blocks…" She murmurs to Quinn, before she's already stumbling in the direction of the two. She's going back towards them. "Sable!"
Yeah, definitely not staying put for this. She sees his approach in her mind's eye, she feels where he will be well before he gets there. She sidesteps just enough and swings her blade to slice up his side. But while she can predict motion, force is a whole other deal. The sheer power of his charge meets the blade and gives her an option: lose the blade, or lose her hand trying to keep it. Her fingers loosen as the knife flickers out from between them, propelled by James' pass into the darkness of the street, pinging against the asphalt.
Wait, was that her name she heard?
Quinn is right behind Elaine, turning she does - and she lays eyes on sable and James ahead of her, her mouth drops, even as someone finally comes on the other line, asking what her emergency is. "Jesus, Sable, what the fuck?!" She sounds more scared than anything else, despite wording that might seem chastising. When the question rings out from her phone again, Quinn's half run behind Elaine resumes. "Uh, yeah- there's - my friend is being attacked!" she shouts into the device. That should get the police moving.
James perks up as he hears Elaine's voice. He looks angered rather suddenly as she hears the one lady talking into the phone. He can't hang around here anymore. He growls as he runs, with a very obvious limp in his step, away from the group, the way he followed the two from. It was getting a little too hairy with the threat of cops.
Don't worry, Elaine. I'll win you back. You'll be mine. I promise.
"Sable!" Elaine calls again, still scrambling down the street towards Sable. Last she saw Sable was fine, now. "Sable, you damn well better be okay!" She's getting closer now to at least see that James is retreating, but she instead just focuses on getting over to Sable. "Jesus.."
Sable considers calling out something after James. Something really… really..
Oh shit, her arm's broken. The yellow eyed girl teeters a bit, turning towards familiar voices, moisture welling up at the corners of her eyes. Crying's okay if you're in pain, okay? She glances in the vague direction of where the knife went. Nope. Forget it. Lost cause. She makes her unsteady way towards Elaine and Quinn, holding her injured limb across herself and trying to cope with the adrenaline jag on its decline, the slow spread of a deeper pain, the way her vision swims a little.
"Gonna… mebbe need a doctor… little bit," Sable admits, like, don't worry, that's all. Just a doctor.
"Jesus, he's running off now- Oh, the address? Umm…" Quinn looks up for street signs, and relays the information thusly. "And Christ, I-I think my friend's hurt. Please, hurry!" The 911 operator's further words fall on deaf ears as Quinn's eyes widen at Sable, her pace slowing a bit behind Elaine. "Holy Mother a' God, Sable, you better be alright…" she says, eyes cast off in the direction James had run off in, narrow and angered.
Elaine's already there, quick as she can, right there next to Sable. "Hey, hey, shh, it's me. Quinn's calling a doctor for you." She moves to try and slide an arm around Sable to help support her if she needs it and looks for further injury. "Where's it hurt?"
"Fuckin' arm," Sable says. She's cradling it, her right arm, close to herself. "Fuckin' playin' arm, too. Fuck. But I messed him up pretty good. Got some decent fuckin' cuts on 'im. Won't walk proper f'r a fuckin' bit," her grin is grimly satisfied, a tinge of that crazy still lurking there. "Woulda taken t' his throat if I'd got the chance. But I ain't so good with my left hand, 'n' that's all he fuckin' left me with." She shakes her head, "Let's… just get th' hell back. Tell Magnes. He c'n go after 'im, mebbe follow the blood… finish 'im off. Put 'im in th' fuckin' ground."
Quinn settles just in front of the other two, and those she gives a sympathetic look to Sable, for a brief moment there's almost a glare. "Sable, the cops are already on their way, an' I'm sure there; bringin' somethin' to take you to the hospital." She looks her friend up and down, a worried expression on her face. "Lord knows you could probably use it after that. Please, Sable." There's a pleasing quality to Sable's voice when she says that, a very deep frown on her face. "I can call Magnes after I get the phone with 911, but jesus please let them take care of you…" The phone is held back up to her ear, two comments of affirmation made, and then she finally hits end. Any time now, hopefully…
Elaine keeps a tight arm around Sable, shaking her head a little bit. "You did good, Sable. It'll be okay. We'll get your arm fixed up. I promise. And I don't break promises, you remember?" She offers her a smile that hints she's still on the verge of tears.
"No… don't want no fuckin' police," Sable says, shaking her head vigorously, just as Quinn may have suspected, "No pigs. Not f'r me. I ain't got no papers. I'm a fuckin' mutant, 'n' that shithead I just fought just got t' be a mutant too. I ain't gettin' no fuckin' barcode stamped on me 'r nothin'. You talk t' the police, but you get me outta here. You get me home. Got, like, a clinic there…" her chatter comes, rapid fire, the product of adrenal after effects. She shivers, grits her teeth in pain, eyes squeezing shut. They find Elaine when they open. "I remember, darlin'. Just please, get me home." Though she doesn't wait. She starts pressing for Gun Hill herself, walking as fast as the pain will allow.
"Oh, Jesus fecking Christ, Sable. What the hell am I supposed t' tell them?" Quinn exclaims pleasingly, staring at her friend. "This isn't the time t' be beligerant! The cops probably just helped save our asses, I can't just have 'em get here and be like 'oh, she's gone now!'" There's also a hint of exasperation in her voice. Fingers find temples, her head shaking. "Ugh! What the fuck ever. I'll handle it."
"Alright, easy Sable, we'll get you home. Okay? We'll get you home." Elaine murmurs, moving quickly with Sable towards Gun Hill. Her gaze quickly darts back to Quinn. "Thank you." She gives an honestly grateful look towards the Irish girl, then moves to continue to take Sable inside. She takes care to mentally lock everything up for the moment, instead merely focusing on getting Sable to safety and getting her taken care of.
Sable turns on her heel to face Quinn. Her mouth is a thin line, and it's hard to tell it that's pain, anger, or both. "Tell 'em there's a limpin' maniac out t' do harm t' our friend, 'n' that he broke yer other friend's fuckin' arm, but that she ain't makin' no statement, 'cause she's scared of cops, dig?" She wrinkles her nose, "I'm fuckin' sorry Quinngirl, but I ain't gonna stick around f'r no pigs t' wonder 'bout where I got my knife from, fuckin' illegal knife Magnes gave me, nor wonder why my eyes look like they do 'r where my fuckin' parents are or what's my place 'f legal fuckin' residence when I live in a buildin' owned by a secret goddamn society." …maybe she wasn't supposed to say that.
"I-" Quinn's head moves to rest fully in her palm. "That's not going t' fucking fly," Quinn says quietly, and now she sounds on the verge of tears, frustration building. "Goddamnit. I'll d-d what I can." She's still quiet, she can hear sirens off in the distance even now. And then she finally hears Sable's mention of a "secret society" and her whole body freezes. She remembers what Sable said the other day, mentions of organizations and contacts days ago, what Ygraine had said to her the other week.
What the hell was she caught up in?
"I-I-I- just fucking go. But I'm not letting this go, Sable." Pissed as she was, she had to focus now. She couldn't worry about Sable's arm, or Elaine's safety. Now she had to figure out what she'd tell the goddamn cops.
Elaine bites down hard on her lip, moving a little faster to try and hurry Sable along to safety… and to hopefully distance herself from the deep pain she feels for having gotten Quinn involved in this. She'll worry about her guilt regarding Sable later.
"Good," Sable snaps, not moving anywhere fast for someone afraid of cops, "Y' hold th' fuck on. Keep th' fuck at me." There's something bizarrely between imploring and accusing in her tone, Sable's articulation infected and inflected by her mad tangle of emotions, never too far from the surface, bubbling up.
"FUCK this hurts!" the yellow eyed girl growls, teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut again. She takes a few deep breaths, then turns on her heel, finally letting Elaine bear her along. "Jus'… no fuckin' pigs," she mutters, shadows settling under her eyes.
"Then hurry the hell on, they'll be here any minute." She pauses and her eyes close. "Fuck!" Quinn echoes with frustration, eyes still looking out over her palm. She was not looking forward to the rest of this night. Not in the least. She felt bad for Sable, wanted so bad to be with there with Elaine helping her, she really did, but her mind was too focused on the bad situation ahead to acknowledge it. At least there was a small ray of sunshine in that James had run off, and Elaine seemed largely fine, physically. But Sable hurt, and now this…
"Jesus…"
Elaine is managing to keep it locked up, best as she can for the moment. She lets out a slow breath, glancing back to Quinn before she continues, opening the door to Gun Hill and stepping inside, Sable in tow. Who knows what's going on behind those doe-eyes of hers.