Under Duress


maya_icon.gif minea_icon.gif peyton_icon.gif

Scene Title Under Dress
Synopsis Maya brings her fellow refugee Peyton breakfast in bed, then Minea stops by with papers for Maya, and sums up Peyton's situation in a painful nutshell.
Date July 31, 2009

Village Renaissance Building, Fourth Floor Safehouse

Maya kept an ear out for Peyton, but it seems the girl slept the night through. Good. She probably needed it. Maya rises at a fairly early hour, and since she has the time and now the money, she's set about making breakfast. She heads to the bedroom, carefully opening the door, plate in hand to bring in for Peyton,.

Peyton's awake, just staring at the ceiling when the door opens. She sits up and blushes a little when she sees Maya's made her breakfast. "Oh, you didn't have to do that, Maya. It's bad enough I kicked you out of your own bed. I would have taken the couch but I wasn't thinking straight last night." The slim brunette's eyes are still puffy and bloodshot from all the crying from the day before. "It smells good," she adds, shyly. "So how long have you been here? You're here to be… safe, too, right?"

There's a gentle shake of the head. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad I can help." She walks over, and offers the plate; scrambled eggs and mangu. The Latina moves then to sit on the edge of the bed. "I only got here a little more than a day before you did."

"Really?" Peyton says, looking at the Latina woman with wide eyes. "How long have you known you're Evolved? I didn't… I had no idea, and so far it's nothing but a nightmare. I used to wonder what it'd be like, you know? To have a cool ability no one else has. My friend Wendy? She says it's like being really good at something that no one else can do, but so far… all it's done is make me dizzy and scared. At the hospital… I was seeing through the gunman's eyes, and there were things I've never wanted to see in my life in that ER." The smell of the food actually makes her stomach rumble, despite the sickening event she speaks of, and she picks up the fork to take a bite of the eggs.

There's a long silence there before she finally replies. "About six months now. It's…it's a curse. I'll be happy when I find a way to get rid of it." She doesn't intend to say more on it. "Eat now. You want milk? I can bring you some."

Brown eyes meet Maya's and she just nods to show she understands. Obviously Maya doesn't want to talk about it, and while Peyton may be all about being in the limelight, she can respect someone else's choice not to be. "I'm sorry. I won't pry any more. And good luck. If you find a way to get rid of it, let me know, because right now, I don't want mine either. And, this is fine, thanks though," she adds regarding the milk.

knock, knock, knock

Minea's in posession of that ever present manila envelope of awesomeness that is ID's for those who have made requests. One such was Maya, though it wasn't so much a request as a chance to do some good. Before she 'defects' back to the company. The tall brunette cools her heals outside the door of the fourth floor apartment, biding time and hoping that someone is in.
Before she can answer, there's a knocking at her outside door. "Enjoy the breakfast, I'll be right back!" Maya says. She stands and moves out to the living room, and then opens the door. When she sees Minea, there's a bright smile. "Hola, chica. Come in!"

Peyton peeks out of the door that's been left ajar, to see who it is at the door to the apartment. She sets aside the food — she's eaten enough to give her a bit of energy, and after 48 hours of nothing but fluids more or less, she doesn't want to push it, even if she's ravenous. She slips out of the bed and looks for clothes — if there's company outside, she wants to be in clothing, rather than just the over-sized t-shirt she was given to sleep in. She finds the clothes that Brian had grabbed for her, the ones that had gotten soaked in the rain — laid out to dry. They're mostly dry, maybe a little damp feeling, but she puts them on anyway.

Minea knows spanish. Easily. Not the absloute fluency that she has for french, she won't pass for a milk tongue spanish speaker, but she speaks it well enough. The envelope is held out, presented with a flourish. «Maya, as promised, your new papers. Birth Certificate from Arizona, passport, social insurance card, even a drivers license just make sure that you know how to drive» Maria is written in scrawling letters across the front. «Have the woman upstairs work with the Ferryman to make them legal, if you want, they'll stand on their own regardless unless checked against records»

The smile ramps up from bright to positively sunny. She takes the envelope, and opens it, before taking a look in there. Everything she needs. She grins brightly, before leaning in to hug Minea impulsively. "You're the best, amiga." She looks back to Minea. "Is there anything I can do to pay you back?" She hasn't noticed Peyton moving about. Papers!

The socialite makes the mistake of looking at herself in the mirror. Ugh. No make up, rain-matted hair. She needs a shower. More importantly, she needs a bathroom. "I'm not eavesdropping, I just need the powder room, Maya," she announces, before leaving Maya's room to turn the corner. She glances up out of curiosity at Minea, then ducks her head as she disappears into the bathroom.

"I could sure use a coffe if you have an… Is that Peyton Whitney?" Like a fairy flitting to the toilet in the middle of the night, Minea is surprised to see the socialite. "Maya, why is your roomate a society… darl..oh" Minea reads the papers. She's cluing in. "Don't tell me she's going to need papers too…."

Maya actually has no clue Peyton's famous. She's not from America, and she's spent her time here locked up on Staten. "Sure, I'll make you some coffee. And her name's Peyton, si." She actually doesn't know the woman's last name. "But she's not my roommate, just my guest." The blonde in the bunny slippers is her roommate. She indicates the bathroom to Peyton, though the other woman's found it already.

Shit. She's already recognized. So far no one here — well, that's just Maya and Brian — knew who she was, and Peyton sort of liked it that way for the first time in her life. She flushes the toilet and washes her hands, then her face in the sink. Blotting her face with a towel, she takes a deep breath and opens the door. "Hi," she murmurs to Minea.

Minea just raises brows. "Insteresting company. I'll have to give you that. Never expected that Peyton Whitney was a refugee. Girly, manifestation, or trip? I have to admit, i'm curious"

Maya smiles, as Peyton comes out. "Hey, this is my friend…she says she knows you!" She indicates Minea. "I'm gonna go put these papers away. I'll be back out in a little bit!" Plus, she'd like to change, as well, now that Peyton's no longer in the bedroom. So she heads that way.

"You don't look the type to read TMZ," Peyton says a little flatly, going back in Maya's room to pick up the plate of food she set aside, then coming out again to bring it into the kitchen. "Refugee?" she says, when that word finally registers. "I … I'm just staying here for a little bit, until things settle down. They wanted me to register, some cop came to the hospital to bring me to the police station, but then things went all crazy. I don't even know anymore." She rinses off the plate of eggs and mango.

"And you ran. And well, no, I don't read TMZ but I hear the gossip on the street. Glad it was a manifestation and not an OD. Drugs do fucked up thing" Maya's waved off, and Minea still haunts the door. "So I don't need to make ID's for you. good. Low on supplies anyways. Sticking around for long?"

"Gossip on the street? What are they saying?" She actually hasn't been on a computer or seen the news to know what rumors are abounding about her. "I … I don't need papers, in that I'm a legal citizen and all that, no. I don't know. Brian said to stay for two weeks, and then I can decide what to do." She leans against the sink and sighs, a long shuddery thing. "I didn't run from the police, not exactly. I ran from a guy with a rifle shooting up the ER. That would be forgiven, right?"

"As a former homeland agent? Yeah, it would. It's called duress. You were under it. It's not like you did a hit and run. If you walked in and voluntarily registered, explained why you didn't stick around the hospital, i'm confident they'd be more than sympathetic and understanding"

"So they shouldn't be, like, looking for me, a warrant out for my arrest or anything? The officer who was there to bring me in, she was the one who had to deal with the crazy guy. So it's not like she doesn't know I was under duress or whatever," Peyton says thoughtfully. "You were homeland? And you're … helping people here?" She shakes her head. "And you read TMZ.com. You're one strange lady."

"It's a long story" Minea shrugs. "I forged documents. Now, right now, I still do just.. a wee bit less on the legal side of it all. But if you're gonna want back in at your life? Then you're going to need to register, or you need to talk to the folks who run this floor and see what they can do for you in regards to getting you a new life kid"

Great. "All right. Thanks for the advice," Peyton says politely enough. "I almost wish it was an OD. That's at least… fixable," she adds a bit morosely as she stares out the kitchen window. "Most of the time."

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