Trouble Is A Friend Of Mine


lynette2_icon.gif ryans2_icon.gif

Scene Title Trouble is a Friend of Mine
Synopsis And important part of the Getting To Know You process. >.>
Date October 16, 2010

Gun Hill: Ryans' Apartment

He's been fairly absent from everyone's lives for a few days, since coming home from the Shuttle trip, but at least when a light knock catches Benjamin Ryan's attention, he's awake.

Unlocking the heavy door and swinging it open curiously, eyes are narrowed suspiciously, until he sees who is on the other side. His posture relaxes some and he motions his visitor inside. His clothing is very laid back for him, a pair of his worn and comfortable blue jeans and one of those white under tees. Obviously, he's had no plans to step out.

"Hey, good to see you." He offers in gentle greeting, a small smile touching his lips.

"Hi there," Lynette says, her smile already crooked. She's dressed a little nicer, black pencil skirt and a olive green blouse. It's almost businessy. But her shoes are cute!

Oh, and there's a bottle of wine in one hand and a pair of glasses hanging upside down in the fingers of her other hand.

"I thought it was long past time for an apartment inspection," she offers teasingly as she leans a hip against the doorframe.

Glancing back behind him into the apartment, Ryans actually smirks when he angles a look back her way. "As the land lady asks." His hand sweeps in a gesture that invites her in, a much more courtly gesture, with a little bend of his body into a bow. Even as he tilts his head down ever so slightly, his gaze travels over her form taking what she's wearing.

"They have been making good progress," Ryans offers about bunker and escape route, when his eyes reach her's again. He has been unable to not peek and look for himself. It is after all in his place. His expression shows approval of what's been done, so far.

A glance down to the bottle and glasses gets it's own amused look. "I plan to move the weapons down there when they finish up." Not just a bunker, but an armory as well.

"It's good to be the king," Lynette remarks with a deepening of her smirk as she steps inside. There is a cursory glance around, but it's more curious than examining, of course. "That's good news. I'll have to explore a little when I'm better dressed for spelunking," she adds before she turns back to look at him, "It hasn't been too much of a bother, I hope. Having your place worked on."

Whatever she really came for, she's moseying around toward the topic, at least for the moment.

The apartment is sparsely furnished really, as Ryans never really figured on staying there for overly long. He did have a house elsewhere, unless it gets seized by the government and sold, which if probably likely. There isn't even a TV in his apartment at the moment, only a older sitting chair and a futon couch. If the folded sheets and blankets setting on a second chair say anything is that he's been sleeping there lately, thanks mostly to the construction in the single bedroom.

"Not much of a place, granted." His tone almost sounds apologetic. "I was never the decorating type."

Once the door is shut he guides her further in with a hand lightly resting at her elbow. It allows her to see the card table with it's mismatched chairs that serve as a dinning room table. "The construction hasn't been a bother at all, since it's something to keep the people here safe, should something happen."

"A man used to a woman's touch," Lynette notes, letting him guide her along easily. It's the card table that gets the nice white wine and crystal glasses, the clash seeming to amuse the blonde, if her smile is anything to judge by. "It's alright, it's comfortable." She even sinks into one of the chairs. "Although, I admit, I haven't seen an apartment like this since college. I seem to recall cinder blocks were involved."

"Very much so." Ryans affirms he suggestion, with gentle smile. Mary's hands were in everything in their home. He only nodded his head and did what she needed done.

"Cinder blocks…" He chuckles softly at that, head shaking a little, "I haven't fallen to that yet. Only a cot in the bedroom, no bricks needed." Settling to perch on the edge of the futon, he studies her thoughtfully for a moment. "Once November 8th passes I may actually attempt to try and make this place more like a home."

If he is still breathing by then, that is.

"Ah yes. Everything's sort of up in the air until then, I suppose." Lynette crosses one leg over the other, her head canting to the side as he studies her. "So, I had a question. I'm not sure if that's how we're supposed to do the 'getting to know you' phase, but I'm not sure I can wait for the answer to reveal itself over time. We are on the clock, after all." November and all. But she gives him a gentler smile before she notes, "If that's alright, a question and answer period."

Resting elbows on his knees, Ryans tilts a single brow in her direction at her request. There is actually a moment of consideration before he gives a slow nod of his head. "Seems only fair." A smile pulling his mouth a little to one side. "Ask away."

Folding his hands, Ben gives her his full attention, face showing a hint of curiosity as to what might be so urgent to know.

For all her urgency, Lynette takes a moment to look at him, her fingers drumming on the table. Perhaps she hadn't quite thought about how she was going to phrase the question.

"So you and your wife," she starts eventually, "You married… young?" Her gaze turns studying then, watching his reaction, apparently. "Not that there's anything wrong with marrying young. To each their own and all that. I just… wondered."

Both brows twitch upwards at the question, Ryans hadn't been expecting that. "I —" Just for a moment he's thrown as he tries to remember their past conversations. Pushing to his feet, he moves over to a small book shelf with a few books sitting on it, but one is pulled out and something extracted from it. "Seems I have neglected in telling you the most important part about myself."

Turning to the table where Lynette sits, Ben sets an old photograph, dated in the corner. Pushing it across to her, it's obviously a wedding photo. Benjamin looks the same as he does no in that old photo labeled as being about the mid 80's. His words are gentle, as he settles in one of the other chairs at the table, "I'm actually fifty seven years old. A few months back, during the capture of a man who killed people to take their live energy to live longer… he committed suicide and in the process reversed my age about twenty years."

He falls silent, his face unreadable as he watches her carefully — like any good agent — he watches her body language.

Lynette picks up that photo, to look over it for a long moment. Her gaze does flick to him, then back to the photo again in silent comparison. This woman is pretty good at keeping her reactions internal, as outwardly, there a tilt of her head in the other direction, and then a neutral expression looks up at him as he explains. She lifts an eyebrow.

It's probably something she wouldn't normal believe easily, but there's the evidence sitting right in front of her.

"People would kill for that sort of luck," she finally says, setting the photo back down again, with care. "Fifty seven," she repeats, leaning back in her chair some. "I suppose in a world where people can fly and turn to smoke and shoot lightning from their fingertips," she says with a little hint of her earlier smile, "It's not so hard to swallow."

"So I have heard." Ryans says with a hint of a smile, "Though, admittly at the time I didn't thank him for it. It took me further away from joining her." He nods his head towards the red headed woman in the photograph with him. "I was looking at my life as coming to it's end and I was prepared for it." His gaze drifts to the photograph, smile fading some at the edges. "Never told the girls, of course. They would not have taken it well."

Glancing up at her again, Ryans considers for a moment, before the hint of a smile returns. "Amazing what time does to change one's perspective." There is a touch of amusement in his voice.

"Before sixty? How maudlin of you, darling," Lynette says with a dryer tone. "I imagine they wouldn't. I would have smacked some sense into you myself." But, as he's added that last, there doesn't seem to be any smacking intended. There is a smile, however. "It does heal all wounds, or so they say. She was very beautiful," she adds, somewhat disjointedly. "Your wife."

There's a bit of a pause before she stands to pull the loosened cork out of the wine bottle, and to pour some into those glasses. "So I suppose it's only fair that you get a question, too."

"Thank you, I always thought so. This wound is still raw, " He picks up the photograph with a somewhat sad expression, " but it isn't so deep a it once was and it feels like it's finally slowly healing." Benjamin moves to replace the photo, feeling a little self conscious about having it out.

"A question?"

The old man clucks his tongue as he tries to root around for some sort of question for her. What has he wanted to know? "Hmm." The sound a deep rumble as he tucks the photo away and sets the book on the shelf again. Looking her way, eyes narrow slightly. "What made you decide to become a ferryman… especially what drew you to decide to take on such a task as hiding others like yourself?"

"Love," Lynette says in a way only a real cynic can, "It does that, I hear." And she picks up one of those glasses, just for a little taste. for now.

His question gets a lift of her eyebrows and she considers for a moment. There's something she's debating in that story, whether or not she should dance around it. "You've heard the phrase Jack of all trades, master of none?

"That's sort of the story of my life. I picked up a little bit about a lot of things, never was never really very good at anything in particular. I ended up working as an assistant to a hip hop-slash-fashion mogul in LA. Who just so happened to also be a gangster. And while some people collect stamps or tea cups, he collected Evolved. Gave us all jobs, helped hide us, what we were, kept it all quiet. I used to smuggle people into the country." Her gaze is a little worried as she explains that particular part of her history, but she clears her throat and her expression before she goes on.

"After the bomb and the whole announcement outing us… things got a little crazy over in LA. We have always loved our riots…" Just a little dark rumor there. "And Donnie had a lot of people sudden needing a better hiding spot. So. We started hiding people. My dad has a ranch, some of us were laying low there when I was approached by the Ferrymen. I had the skill, they had the need. It's one of the few things I've ever been any good at, oddly enough."

Approaching the table again, he moves to take the second glass, it looks awkward in his hands. Eyes on the blonde woman, even as he takes a sip of that wine, listening to every word she has to say. If she's expecting to see any sort of judgment on his face, she won't find it.

"Sounds like in this case, a shady past has brought you to something a little better." Ben sounds almost impressed. "I'll have to keep you in mind next time I need to be snuck back into the country." Another longer sip is taken, before he gives her small smile. "Not that my girls want to hear me talking about the possibility of doing anything more then staying in one spot and staying safe."

"Something like that," Lynette says with a little see saw of her hand. But she does smile, and it's much more genuine this time. Which makes her expression sort of adorable as opposed to sly and impish. "Well, hopefully next time you go out of the country, it's for fun and not for business," she remarks with a chuckle, "But yes, if you need it, I can get you in or out. Toby, actually, is a good coyote, too."

She sets her glass back down again and looks up at him, silent for a moment before she notes, "I keep expecting you to disapprove. Shady past… and present, in spots, and yet, you take it all in stride. Just what does it take to shock you?" And that one comes with the impish smirk.

"I don't think fun has ever really had a chance to be a part of my vocabulary since I joined up when I was seventeen. Before then, I had way too much fun." Benjamin gives her a rueful smile, glass slowly swishing around the blonde liquor gently. "Hellion on a motorcycle, my mother feared what I would become, so she signed the paperwork that would let me join early."

But he gives that story a little flick of his fingers as if it wasn't something all that important. "As for shocking me… I have lived a long time, survived more things then I man should rightly survive — and have two daughters." He huffs a soft chuckle, looks up at Lynette, "It's not easy to shock me no, but it is known to happen, it's just whether I let you see it or not." There is a bit of a tease in that.

"Too much fun, now that sounds like a story." Lynette smiles wider, though, as he goes on. "You know, one thing you really should know about me, Ben. I can't resist a challenge," she says with an echo of his chuckle.

"You mean, the military, yes? Signing up early and all that?" And she can do math, which might account for the bit of belated sympathy in her expression there for a moment. But she shakes it off after a moment and leans toward him a little to ask, "Are you still a hellion on a motorcycle?"

Her question gets a laugh from the Ryans family patriarch, "Not in a long time. The Navy took most of the hellion out of me and the Company the rest — though I guess you could argue I'm something like that now — but when it comes to motorcycles, " He admits, voice still full of the humor he sees in the idea. "Mary hated them, saw them as death machines. Sometimes accommodating your spouse keeps things happy at home."

Ben's blue eyes narrow suspiciously, as he leans a little towards her in return, "Why? Were you still hoping it was true?" His brows tip upwards with interest as to what her answer would be.

"Ah yes, I suppose it would be more pleasant that way." Lynette can't help but smile, though, at his laughter. And wider still at that suspicious look. Her finger runs around the edge of her wine glass as she considers her answer, a gentle and pleasant tone sounding from the crystal.

When she looks over at him, her tempered, crooked smile is back, and she looks over at him with her head tipped to one side. "Maybe."

There is another softer chuckle at that, "Mmm… I might have to consider taking up riding again with an answer like that." Looking away for a moment, brows furrow a little. "It's hard to picture myself on a motorcycle again, but then it's hard sometimes to remember I look younger then I am." He can't help but think of him as the old man he is. Picturing himself on a Harley, doesn't seem to work anymore.

He can feel the fingers of his free hand at her side, lingering, almost hesitant as if for a moment worried about such actions. It takes a moment or two, before that hand starts to slide behind her back, pulling her closer. "You, miss Rowan, are going to be trouble." The hint of a smile says thats not all a bad thing in his mind. "An old man like me, suppose to act his age." He teases her a little, as he sets down his wine glass. "Not like some brash, reckless younger man."

"Age is all in the mind, darling," Lynette says with a more amused look about her. "You've been given a second run, I'd hate to see you waste it feeling the age on your birth certificate. Not that a motorcycle is the way to do that, but it's just an example."

When his arm pulls her closer, Lynette lifts an eyebrow as she tilts her head to look up at him and her hands come to rest on his arms, just lightly. But his words make her laugh, too, a warm and amused sound. "Oh? Are you feeling particularly brash and reckless just now?" she asks with a hint of playfulness on her tone.

Ryans' more relaxed then he has been in some time, it's evident in the way he's acting. Hand coming up to hold forefinger and thumb apart just enough to see a space between them. He seems to give that a look of consideration before stating, "Just a little." He rumbles out with a chuckle.

Of course, what Ben doesn't let her see is the nervousness he's feeling at the moment. The internal war of whether he should be that bold or not.

"A second run… " He seems thoughtful at that idea, finger brush lightly at golden hair. "Course, the girls already think, I'm being too reckless." Their reactions from his triumphant return, proof enough of that.

There's a soft chuckle for his answer, and Lynette reaches for that hand, to lace her fingers with his. "Well, a little it's such a bad thing," she replies. Her own nervousness is covered with a sort of collected cool, and that hint of a smile.

Of course, then he touches her hair and that nervousness decides to peek out. She bites her bottom lip a little, for just a moment before she smiles up at him instead. "They worry about their father. He keeps getting himself into trouble."

"That he does." Even he knows that much, not that he ever does much to curb it. So maybe some of that hellion still lingers in his veins, tempered and turned to a much more deadly purpose at times all in the name of what's right.

He watches his fingers as they comb through her hair, thoughtful at first then suddenly with a touch of guilt. "That he does," is murmured again as he looks at her again, trying hard not to let his uncertainty show.

It's been a good long while since he had to deal with situations as this. He feels rather much like a bumbling teenager… which he shouldn't at his age. Or maybe it's the awkwardness of her being that much younger then him, as if he isn't allowed. These thoughts swim through his head, evens as his hand settles behind her neck and after only a moment more of hesitation he leans down to test the waters — so to speak — and press that first kiss to her lips.

Benjamin Ryans… always getting himself into trouble.

And Lynette watches him, trying to read those subtle shifts in his expression, and by her own… she seems to find that bit of awkwardness endearing. Enough that her arms slide around him as he brushes through her hair, a shaky breath taken in softly. It falls out in a little sigh as he leans down and she lifts up on her toes just enough to meet him in that kiss. She leaves the embrace gentle, warm, but with no shortage of affection.

The water's fine, as they say.

Embolden by the fact, Ryans kisses her like a man left thirsty for far too long, lingering over and savoring it, before pulling away just a little with a his own shaky breath. It's followed with a heavy content sigh, as if he had been wanting to do that for some time.

That arm around her waist, continues, holds her against him, even as he stands there for a moment, with eyes closed, trying to regain some of his composure. Finally — "I repeat…" His thumb brushes along her cheek, as he forces a smile on his lips, "… you are going to be trouble."

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