Unexpected Visitors


delilah_icon.gif quinn_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Unexpected Visitors
Synopsis Quinn and Sable drop in on Delilah.
Date September 20, 2010

The Octagon: Else and Delilah's Apartment

Usually, when Quinn’s making her way out to Roosevelt Island, the goal of the day is work, given her recently found job at Ichihara. But today, her intentions are different, today she’s off from work, and she’s picked Sable up from her place of employment, with the intention of visiting someone she’s been wanting to for nearly a month, as well as the opportunity to see her roommate again. She didn’t really know Else that well, and was still getting to know Delilah, so the idea of hanging out was an exciting one to her.

It’s late afternoon when she pulls up to The Octagon on her scooter, Sable in tow with her. Joining the pair, barely enough room between then, is a soft guitar shaped case strapped awkwardly, and probably illegally, to the back of the scooter, quickly taken form it’s perch by the Irish musician as she hops up the stairs and to their apartment, knocking on teh door in a four beat rhythm. “Hello?” she asks before repeating the knock. She hadn’t thought to actually, like… call beforehand. “It’s Quinn an’ Sable!”

This is a trip Sable's made a lot recently, but it's never once ceased to be any less exciting for her than when it started. The only change has been the steady reduction of nerves, that rare condition Delilah manages to produce in the otherwise unflaggingly brash Sable. Having a ride rather than taking the bus, though, that was nice. And hanging onto the back of Quinn for dear life is also a fun of its own. Her hair still a mess from the helmet she had to wear, and not the kind of mess she prefers, so she's raking her fingers through her dark locks as she sidles up after Quinn.

"Give 'er a minute," Sable says, grinning at Quinn and shaking her head, a bit, trying to make the muss of her hair look more natural, "she's got a passenger in tow. Ain't as quick t' her feet 's you 'n' me."

Delilah might pinch Sable if she heard that- all she would hear was 'she's slow' and associate that with 'she's getting weighed down', and thusly hear 'she's getting fat'. It's all very complicated, of course. Delilah doesn't even come to the door, it seems- there is the scuffle of Samson racing over, and the thumps of tennis shoes.

"No! I wanna get it!" Samson barks, almost drowning out the little boy's voice and shaking the hallway at the same go. The door pops open and the seven year old that pokes his head out of the door is only vaguely familiar. Big green eyes, light brown hair, something about his smile like Delilah's- but only just. "Hi!"

"Christopher, let them in." There's Delilah, her voice coming out of the living room- "And don't you dare let the dog out." The little boy squints once at the girls at the door, antsing from foot to foot before swinging it open and latching himself onto Samson- who seems to enjoy the fact that there is a little person climbing over his back.

Calling would have warned the girls, yes, but then they'd never meet these charming boys. When the redhead sidles into view, it is with one hand on her hip, the other on her stomach, and at her side a boy about Quinn's height, with similar brown hair and stark blue eyes. He's looking at the other one from under his brown fringe, looking totally embarrassed.

Quinn just sort of stares for a moment, not entirely sure that they even have the proper apartment until Delilah steps into view. Quinn’s head tilts, the Irishwoman laughing sheepishly. “Oh, um, wow. I guess I shouldn’ve called before stoppin’ by. Hi, Delilah! I hope we’re not, like, interruptin’ somethin’, are we?” She steps to the side a bit, leaning against the doorframe. “Was stoppin’ by t’ say hello, since we don’t see each other enough. Maybe see Else.” And then she glances over to Sable, making a flourish over to her. “An’ I brought you a present!”

The youngling's blue eyes are met with Sable's own weird yellow lanterns, and she squints at him. "Yer either new," she informs him, "or y' grew up real fast…" As 'Christopher' is, apparently his name, Sable can safely assume that Walter did not manifest rapid aging as his Evolved 'gift', and there must thus be some other reason that a seven year old is in Delilah's home. Time to investigate…

Sable sidles over as Quinn gives her room, giving Delilah a wide grin, one that stays in place but gains a certain fixity as her eyes dart over and take note of the young man standing nearby. There is an instant but almost imperceptibly slight shift in Sable's demeanor. Usually easy going or at least sort of loose, a tension asserts itself across the small woman's shoulders.

But it doesn't seem to foreshadow any clear change in behavior. Without further ado, Sable jogs right into Delilah's apartment, up to the British girl, and hops up to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek - appropriately chaste, thank heavens. "Hey beautiful," is her formal greeting, delivered close, before she slips back down and takes a step back, glancing up at the guy. She sticks out a hand, offered in a shake.

"Sable," she says, stolidly, "'n' if yer here, friend 'f this fine lady's, I figure we're gonna get along, eh?"

Christopher is more interested in being dragged across the carpet by the dog than he is in staring Sable down. He has something like a hello come out of his mouth, but for the most part it is lost in Samson's playful growling and the dragging itself. Delilah's frowning at him is only stopped when Sable pops up and gives her that chaste, yet potentially assertive, show of affection. She smiles and returns it, sighing out as Samson drags Chris away in the background of her vision.

"Else's not in right now, Quinn- sorry. Just me and the boys. They're staying here for the afternoon while my aunt does some business." Dee turns her head and gives a weak smile to the boy beside her, who seems more intent on looking at Sable's hand. He looks askance at Delilah( as if she could make this any less awkward) before lifting his own mitt to shake Sable's hand.

"'M her cousin. Um. Campbell."

Quinn clicks her tongue, watching as Sable steps into the apartment proper, somewhat amusedly watching for Campbell’s reaction to her dimunative friend’s antics. What she does gets a chuckle and a shake of Quinn’s head. “Ah, well. I’ll have t’ come by an’ see here another time then. Still, nice t’ stop by an’ see you too. I do hope you weren’t in the middle a’ eatin’ or anythin’.” She pushes back off the door frame, taking a tentative step inside. A hand is offered out to Campbell, a smile on Quinn’s face. “Robyn Quinn, pleasure t’ meet you. An’ that means Christopher’s the one gettin’ a piggy back ride from the dog, then?”

Sable's grip is firm. Yes, assertive would be the word. Of course, as the word 'cousin' comes up, Sable gets noticeably less mano y mano, a smile pricking the corners of her lips, indicating the return of her ease. "Pleasure, Campbell," she says, releasing him from her grip and stepping back to let Quinn move in for her offered shake, "dunno if Dee's mentioned me b'fore, but y' needed be ill at ease 'round me. Rough 'round the edges, sure, but I'm a softy at heart - ain't that right, Quinn?" A glance to the named girl, for confirmation of this point.

"Want I should go snag th' rip tear?" Sable goes on to inquire of Delilah, thumbing in the direction of the boy and his faithful half-steed, "or does Samson do an okay job 'f playin' nanny?"

"Hah, yeah." Campbell goes from hand to hand, his other one fiddling at the edge of his jeans pocket. "She has, a little bit." Nothing too untoward, at least. Delilah folds her hands and glances after Chris when Sable motions there, and she gives a half smile to Quinn. "He's not much of a conversationist. Samson can do fine, yes. They'll horse around til they get tired, trust me." It seems that way, too, as the dog and boy have taken either end of the former's rope toys. Delilah wanders away, off towards the kitchen, leaving Campbell to stay awkwardly standing there, fists now in his pockets.

"Are you guys thirsty? I had a pot on, I could get you some tea if you'd like. I made the mistake of giving Chris a soda earlier, and- well-" The tall redhead motions vaguely to where the boy is being tugged about by the monster dog, hands gripped on the rope toy.

“At least you never gave Lance a Mountain Dew,” Quinn replies with a mock sense of regret. “Because any of those kids could use any more sugar. I’m not certain if he ever told Doyle I was the reason hew as so hyperactive…” Her shoulders roll as she smiles at Campbell, then at Christopher and Samson, laughing and shaking her head. “I could use a drink, though. Tea sounds wonderful.” With that, she finally steps a bit more full into the apartment, looking over at Campbell. “So, Deliliah’s cousin? What brings you t’ town again? Or are you from around here?”

Sable has yet to develop a taste for tea, its delicacy and sophistication unappreciated by her philistine tongue. So, instead, she asks. "Got any soda left, or did th' shrimp," which term, thankfully, no longer refers to her, "guzzle it all?" She shoots Chris a suspicion glare. "I'll shake 'em up 'n' let 'im pop."

"That makes a mess!" Christopher exclaims, looking totally shocked. In that second, Samson tugs hard enough to pull him over onto the floor. Whump.

"There's still some left- mostly non-caffeinated, but we have stuff for guests. You can pick what you want." Delilah taps a palm on the fridge as she passes it to get out a wide teacup from the upper cupboard. The next one over is opened up, and she motions inside. "Any kind you like, Quinn? Or just black?" Contrary to belief, Dee does not subsist on Earl Grey. Campbell seems curious about the two girls he has just met, even if he is a little reserved about it.

"We live here. Still moving around a bit, but… yeah. Right now we're on the Upper West Side. Pretty different from Thomas Jefferson." Campbell's hand runs through the front of his hair, thoughtfully tugging at it.

Quinn can’t help but continue laugh at Christopher. “Do be careful!” she warns with a laugh. “I’d hate t’ see the dog just run off with you while we’re here!” Her attention turned back to Delilah, Quinn shrugs, hands slipping into her jean pockets. “I’ll have whatever you’ll fix. I’m not terribly picky when it comes t’ my tea. Black’s perfectly fine.” She gives a bit of a nod , eyeing Sable. “You only need non-caffeinated t’day, Sable. Last thing we need is for you t’ pop form being in constant motion.” As if she isn’t normally.

“The Upper West Side isn’t too bad. Never lived there, though. Just Brooklyn an’ the Bronx. How’re the livin’ rates out there, anyway?” Quinn sounds genuinely curious, rocking back and forth on her heels before she pivots back to Delilah. “Which reminds me. I might be movin’ in here, Dee.”

"Aw, don't worry Quinn, kids 'r' made of sterner f-," Sable begins, then halts herself, "-riggin' stuff," she continues, perform what is, for her, an astounding feat of last second self-censorship. To reward herself, she ambles over to the fridge and pops it open, sticking her head inside and searching a proximity and intensity that is totally unnecessary. But needless excess of gesture is the name of the game. Some people have a reputation to maintain.

Which is why, in pointed defiance of Quinn's little motherly suggestion, Sable grabs hold of a Diet Coke, which, let it be known, has a higher caffeine content than regular Coke. Appetite suppressor, you see. Knocking the fridge door closed with her hip she gives Quinn a level stare like: 'what? gonna do somethin' about it?' and cracks open the can, lifting it to her lips to take a sip. Sadly, because her eyes are on Quinn and not on the can, she ends up bonking the rim of the can against her upper lip, mashing it against her teeth. Ow. Sable winces visibly and extends her can-bearing hand away from herself, getting that treacherous piece of aluminum (or I guess aluminIum in this household) as far from her as possible without letting it go.

"Motherfffff-," Sable begins, but then trails off. She slowly, slowly, brings the soda back to her lips, though this time to place its cool surface against her injured mouth. She scowls at the other three, as if this were some practical joke they cooked up, and remains temporarily silent. Which is a miracle all its own.

"'Spensive." Campbell doesn't have to think much on it. "We're gettin' help, and mum's got a good job now thanks to Dee's friends giving her references." He won't say who, but perhaps they can guess those kinds of things. The teenage boy sits himself down on one of the chairs at the table off the end of the open kitchen, hands picking idly at his long sleeves. He watches Sable from there, as she rifles in the shelves.

"Oh? The Octagon? Or maybe just Roosevelt?" Delilah readies the cup for the hot water off of the stove, peering over at Sable when she hits herself in the teeth with her soda can. She manages to not laugh that much, letting out a bemused chuckle and setting the hot cup of seeping tea down on the island for Quinn. The middle of the counter there is a rectangular, diner-type napkin rack- one part has sweeteners, and whatever else- it also seems to be the place to stick the mail. "If you can ignore what kind of place it may or may not be, according to theory, it's a good place. Odd sorts of neighbors though." It's true!

“Somehow I figured that might be th’ case,” Quinn replies with a shake of her head. “At least it’s not too bad though, hmm? I mean, gettin’ help an’ all. If I move ehre, I’m probably going t’ be gettin’ help m’self, so no big deal.” Quinn pivots back so that Sable anD Delilah are in her future, a chastising glare from Quinn as the short (but no longer shrotest) girl almost curses rather badly. Since when did Quinn become motherly around kids, even a little?

“The Octagon, though I dunno what theories you’re talkin’ about. I… might be movin’ outta Gun Hill, for reasons you might’ve heard, an’ this is one of theplaces me an’ someone else are lookin’ at.” Someone who’s not Sable, as the glance her way afterwards would seem to indicate. “Really, as long as it’s safe, generally, I’m not too worried about anythin’. Plus, it’s close t’ the bookstore I work at, so that’ll make that a lot easier. I could probably walk if I woke myself up early enough.”

This is a topic of interest to Sable, not to mention a topic of concern, and when she's more or less sure she can talk without lisping, she interjects. "Dee, y' said, right, that this place is all, like… part 'f th' system, eh?" she notes, tone taking on a hint of warning, "I mean, yer movin' here'd be find 's far as I'm, like, concerned, Quinngirl. I come here pretty damn often as it is, t' see her fairness here," she smiles at Delilah as she applies the fond honorary, "so I'd get t' drop in on you too. But I thought y' were thinkin' 'bout the Rock Cellar, eh? Make it easier on th' band, plus y'd be nearer t' where I work!" Which is totally more important than Quinn being nearer to where Quinn works.

Sable sidles over to the table and takes a chair one down from Campbell. She gives the lad a nod and lifts her coke - 'cheers' - before taking a sip. Ow. Ow that hurts. Like carbonated lemon juice on the wound. Sable pulls a face.

"Oh it's safe, alright." Delilah nods, her head seesawing a little. Some might call it too safe. "I lived over above the Rock Cellar a while, she runs a really nice building. It's also pretty damn safe." For other reasons. Dee leans upon the counter, looking over towards Campbell, who seems unsure of how to deal with Sable. Maybe it's her eyes that are putting him off-track? She can't be that odd, emotionally.

"If you moved out here too, would that mean everyone would follow?" The natural redhead starts on a new question for Quinn. "Maybe I'm serious- but- I mean, you guys are close with lots of the other civvies and lowbies at Gun Hill, right? They'll have to go too." Apparently she does not seem shy about discussing such things in front of the two boys. There must be a good reason for it, possibly that they know. More than likely.

“The Verb was an option,” Quinn says with a bit of a nod. “Still one I’m considerin’. I’m just… puttin’ things t’gether right now. I ma or may not have a roommate, an’ I may or may not have someone willing t’ rent out her place so she can move in with me. I dunno yet. The Verb really would be close t’ some good things, though.” Quinn tilts her head to teh side until there’s a loud crack, a relieved sigh following. “Um, well…” Quinn, however, seems a it more hesitant about discussing things like that outloud. “I dunno who’s leavin’. I don’t think there’s… any real civvies anymore. An’ Lynette says we’re all welcome t’ stay if we’re comfortable with it. I’m just not entirely sure I am.”

Sable continues to flagellate via beverage, every sip bringing on some new and exciting facial demonstration of discomfort, such that it rapidly becomes clear that she's sort of enjoying it. The pauses between sips are spent as much in the interests of thinking up a new grimace as in letting the pain fade. Which should do wonders, I'm sure, to make Campbell feel more at ease.

One face, however, that Sable makes does not follow a sip. It follows the conversation Delilah and Quinn are having. For one allegedly born to ramble, Sable has grown rather rapidly attached to Gun Hill, and as talk turns to the necessity of leaving it, not just for Quinn but for anyone and everyone else who isn't some high risk former secret agent something or other… well, it puts Sable out.

She sets her drink on the table, rising to her feet and thumbing towards the passage to the living space. "Gonna make sure th' dog ain't e't that kid," she says, "y'all need me, I'll be in there, eh?" It's rare, pretty much a total anomaly, in fact, for Sable to look or sound this glum while at the Octogon. She doesn't sound depressed by any means, but a little of her fire has been dampened, just for the moment. But there's one thing that may cheer her up.

It's time to pick on the on someone less than her own size.

"I see. So it's that kind of deal. Seems like you have the pick of the litter when it comes to new places, though." Delilah pauses, one hand on the small of her back and the other palm at her side. It looks for a moment like she might be thinking really hard, though it seems to end up being something bubbly inside. Which reminds her!

"I sent out a bunch of invitations for the baby shower, I hope everyone got them? I wasn't sure how to get them around except asking some favors of people more mobile than me." Because whales, like pregnant women, tend to move better in water. "I don't know who will be able to make it, but I made sure to put them out pretty early."

Quinn watches Sable for a second as she meanders off after Chris and Samson, shaking her head. “I feel bad,” Quinn remarks in a low voice, just audible enough for Delilah and Campbell. “She makes it sound like she really needs ‘er friends nearby t’ keep her from wanderin’ off again. But I really don’t think I can stay at Gun Hill, an’… I just don’t think we’d work as roommates.” There’s a bit of a dejected look on the musician’s face, before she exhales quietly, forcing a bit of a smile back on.

“I haven’t gotten one yet, but I’m lookin’ forward t’ it! I never really used t’ like kids, t’ be honest. But havin’ the kids around Gun Hill for so long was a lotta fun. Kinda opened me up t’ teh idea, at least a bit.” Quinn smirks, resuming rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Yeah." Delilah nods once, confiding in return. "I do my best and I think she's glued herself into my life, but she's kinda one of those people that could use a person around to staple her to the floor. I'd suggest something, but she might take it wrong. Maybe you could? I was thinking if she had to leave Gun Hill, she could go to another house, or at least just follow one of you guys- she doesn't want to come here at all, really. I'd almost rather she stay there though, she's quite welcoming, and those types need it."

"And- well, I wasn't thinking about it much yet either, and here I am." Delilah laughs, a little snort escaping. Lucky lesbians don't need to worry about stuff like that.

“I’ll see. I’m sure we’ll talk about it at least once more, you know, so I can see what she wants t’ do.” Hands rise from her pockets, place behind her neck as she continues to rock back and forth. “It’s funny how those things happen, isn’t it?” she says with a laugh, pointing down to Dee’s baby bump. “I dunno if I could go that far. I think I’d adopt, probably from the Lighthouse. It’d probably depend on what my partner wanted t’ do.” She gives a bit of a shrug, eyes wandering around the room. “So, what’ve either’ve you been up to t’day?”

"If you wanna call it funny." Campbell is still seated at the table nearby, only looking up when he intones the solemnity of the afternoon. "'Least it's not a bad thing though." Delilah watches him for a few seconds longer, before glancing back to Quinn.

"Marien dropped the boys off this morning, and we've basically just been around the neighborhood since. You guys are flaky on going places with me now-" She shoots Campbell a discerning, stern look. "-so that doesn't leave a whole lot for me to do about it."

“Slow day, then?” Quinn grins, even as she looks back over at Campbell, offering him a bit of a shrug. She looks back towards the door, where her soft guitar case sits and contemplates pulling out the instrument inside, even meandering over towards it. “We should all go get some ice cream or somethin’! I can’t imagine why everyone wouldn’t get behind that.” She turns back as she unzips the case, looking over her shoulder. “My days mostly been tryin’ t’ catch Colette an’ Tasha t’ find out if they got any of those puzzles pieces like a few other people did, an alittle bit a’ workin’ on music.”

"You guys planning any jam sessions soon? I'd love to come to one." Delilah offers, and then squints for a second. Maybe she's been outside of that particular loop. Or maybe she's making that face for a reason. "Puzzle pieces? Like one in the post?" Okay, yeah, there you go.

“…there was a puzzle piece in the post?” Quinn sounds a little surprised. “Big, white, a word on the back? Those are the kinds we got, yeah. It’s… kinda weird.” She looks thoughtful for a moment, and then shakes her head. “No idea what’s up with it, but I’m curious as all hell.” There a pause as Quinn stands back up, producing a red, and kind of small, electric bass guitar. “Jam sessions just kind of happen. Has Sable played the half song we recorded yet? I’m hopin’ soon Magnes’ll give me his part, an’ we can do a proper version of it, Cat’s letting me use her studio.” She beams at this, seeming really pleased. “Next time we start workin’ no somethin’, or when we go t’ record, I’ll be sure t’ give you a call, see if someone can come get you.”

"Haven't heard the song yet, no. I don't- remember where I put the one I got, but-" Delilah considers back, glancing over at Campbell and moving over to make with admiring Quinn's red guitar. "Mine said 'our'. It's around somewhere. You say other people got them? How many were there? Who the hell put them there?" She does laugh, but it is one of those laughs that make it sound as if she is expecting something out of this puzzle piece now. Not always something good, mind you.

"I'd like to come if someone can get me. I enjoy the times I play for people."

“It’s on my phone, if you want t’ listen…” Quinn commences digging into her purse, after a moment producing an iPhone, albeit one with a crack in its upper right corner. “Look under Mad Muse, song’s called ‘untitled (losing control)’.” Her bass is hefted up, turning to face Delilah and Campbell. “If nothin’ else, I’ll try an’ fit you on the scooter,” which isn’t meant to be a fat joke, as unfortunate as it sounds. “Or a cab. Whatever. The more the merrier! If you like playin’, though, you should so somethin’ at the Rock Cellar sometime. Hell, I could use a guitar t’ go with my piano.”

Back the more serious topic of the puzzle pieces, which elicits one long shrug from Quinn. “I don’t really know. So far, I know I got one, Lynette got one, Toby got one, an’ Ygraine got one, an’ now you. All… you know. Our people. So it could be somethin’ aimed at us, maybe? Sounds like they’re all comin’ in direct mail, which is a little unnervin’.” Quinn works her way over to a seat, plopping down, bass held in her lap with a smile on her face. “I keep meanin’ t’ hit the internet an’ see if it’s, like… widespread or somethin’. See if it’s more than us. If it is, than something definitely weird’s goin’ on.”

With that, the red bass is hefted up into Quinn’s lap, the Irishwoman plucking on the stings a bit as her eyes move between Campbell and Delilah. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go get your guitar now, an’ we’ll have ourselves a little jam? Fun for everyone t’ be sure. I know Sable’ll appreciate seein’ us play.” With that, she begins to pluck at strings, just waiting for a guitar to join in, ready to jam the night away.

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