Participants:
| Scene Title | Unloading |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | When she finally gets around to her mission, Delia finds more than just supplies. There's an ear too. |
| Date | March 10, 2011 |
The scraps of paper crumpled into the bottom of a shearling coat pocket are pulled out one by one and studied. Situated across the street from the apothecary, Delia finally finds the one with the address and double checks that she did come to the right address. She hasn't been down to Greenwich Village in almost a year and given the amount of little shops and how often they close and reopen as something completely different, she gets lost fairly easily.
A moment later, the little bell on the door rings as she lets herself in. Berating herself silently for wearing Doc Martens instead of sneakers, the redhead makes an honest attempt not to disturb the peace and quiet of the store as she makes her way to the counter. It's a slow journey, if only for the fact that odd things keep catching her eye. Each time, she stops and picks up the item that has captured her interest, turning it over and looking at it from all angles before putting it back.
There's one item that she keeps in her hand, a little ceramic kitten with a chipped ear. It is set on the counter when she finally makes it there. "Hello?" The usual greeting of a skittish customer is called out toward the velvet curtain. "Is there anyone here?"
A few seconds of silence pass before someone announces, "One moment!" from behind the curtain. The shop's proprietor, or apparent proprietor, is not the first to appear on the scene. That particular honor belongs the his partner: The short, snorting, ancient bulldog that comes toddling around the counter to see just who is on the other side. The measured steps that he takes on his way over to Delia indicate that his eyesight isn't what it used to be.
A moment after the bulldog appears, so too does a man, dressed plainly in a grey sweater with matching slacks and looking very much like he may well be the only one on duty that day. "Good day," he says with a polite smile as he slides behind the counter proper, adding a small admonishment for the canine, "Ranger, don't bother." Obediently, the dog gives us his investigation and toddles back around behind the counter. That done, the questions begin: "How can I help you?"
The moment the dog appears around the corner of the counter, the redhead ducks down and kneels. Her hands reach out, smelling very much like other dog and she pauses one under the bulldog's nose while the other goes to scratch behind one ear. "Hello~! Yes! Hello~! Who's a cute widdle boy~" Excited baby talk isn't reserved just for infants, even the most regal of canines is tortured with it (along with the owner).
Delia peeks up just as the dog slips away from her hands, which almost immediately grab for the flat surface. Her fingers hook over the top and she pulls herself up. It's almost as though she's performing heavy labor, the way she runs out of breath the moment she stands. "Uhm.. hi.. Are you uhm.. I got sen— uhm.. sent here." The stammer that suddenly overwhelm her is accompanied by a twitch of lips as she attempts to ease her own nervousness. This is her first outing and the excitement wore off the moment she had to actually speak. Which is now. "I have a list!" And a ceramic kitten on the counter.
"Well, if you have a list, I'm certainly more than happy to help you with it however I can," Constantine replies, his attention drawn shortly to the kitten on the counter. "Is, by chance, that part of the list?" he asks, another of the 'questions,' which he immediately follows with another, "Would you care for some coffee while you're here? Tea, perhaps?"
The bundle of loose papers that are pulled out from the young woman's pocket join the kitten on the counter as she persuses them one by one. "No.. that's for me." A faint blush colors her cheeks and nose as she regards the little trinket and Constantine is offered a rather sheepish grin. It's fleeting and it's likely nervousness that has her glancing back down to the stack and sifting through it rather than continuing conversation.
There are a lot of lists in the pile and each one is smoothed out before it's refolded and then placed back into her pocket. Eventually only one is left and it's held up for his benefit, it's rather substantial. "Tea— Tea would be nice. I— I got sent from— uhm…" Her teeth catch her lower lip and she grimaces a little, undertain of exactly how much she's allowed to say. "The.. cooouunncil?" That last word is elongated, with the small hope that he'd fill in the rest.
Whatever it is that Delia's said, or how she said it, the message gets across. Constantine nods once, just once, and then begins sliding around the counter again, electing to ignore the list in Delia's hand for the moment. "It's been a while since I've heard from them," the man says, making it plain that what he's interested in on the other side of the counter is not Delia- not at this moment- but rather the front door, which is promptly locked and has a sign added to it: 'CLOSED FOR LUNCH.'
"No news is good news, the saying goes, but frankly I'd rather hear something than nothing." With the door taken care of, he slides past the woman again and back behind the counter. After another moment, an electric kettle is placed atop it, filled with water from a bottle and plugged in. "And so, what news is there?" Unobtrusively, Constantine's hand is extended, meant for whatever list has been brought for his benefit.
In this case, no news isn't good news and the solemn tilt of her head and sheepish lift of her eyes to look up at him is likely enough. "The flu is going around," a fact that the shop owner probably already knows. The list is carefully placed into Constantine's open hand and Delia lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "It's uhm.. it's not good. You've been friends with them a long time now?" He probably knows quite a few people in the infirmary, if that's the case.
"But uhm.. We found a new building for the kids from the Lighthouse though, the ones that didn't get sick were evacuated right away." That's one piece of good news. "We managed to get uhmm.. vaccines.." The last word is spoken so quickly that it's possible that it's missed. She doesn't repeat it though, even though he's making her tea. "So you don't have to worry about me, I'm as healthy as a horse." She does look rather tired, though, and a little gaunt.
The expression on Constantine's face confirms Delia's suspicion that, in fact, no news is anything but good news. "It's good that you have a new building," is all he can think to say at the moment. What else is he going to do? Magic some vaccines up out of thin air? What he can do is look over the list that Delia's given to him: The things on it, almost certainly, he can procure, otherwise they wouldn't have been brought to his attention. "If you need medical supplies, I'll get what I can."
"That'd be great, we need antibiotics and pain killers… bad. Anything would be good, actually." The young woman seems a little nervous as her lips quirks up at one side, forming something of a grimace. "I— don't really know what kind of payment arrangements I'm supposed to make. Do you have something set up already?"
Then a hand comes up to smack audibly against her forehead and it slides down the side of her face, her other is offered out for a shake. "I'm sorry, I'm so rude… My name is Delia—Iiii mean Robin. Robin Bristow." It's probably Delia. "Pleased to meet you, and yeah, medical supplies would be fantastic."
A slip of the tongue, sure, but it happens. "Constantine," the shop owner replies back, taking Delia's hand and shaking it when offered, "It's nice to meet you, Robin." At least he's willing to humor her. "We can worry about payment in the future. I know that you're good for it-" A relief, to be sure- "If you need medicines that badly, then having those delivered is the higher priority." And even if he needs to be somewhat mercenary with how he handles the transaction, at least Delia can be assured that Constantine has priorities in line with the Ferrymen.
"How soon," he adds, "Will someone be ready to take them?"
A jerky nod of her head is his reply, for the most part. "As soon as possible and someone will be ready, I'll make sure. A uhm.. a truck would be okay for everything? Or will we need something bigger? It's— it's my first time— " There's a long pause before she actually decides to qualify that. "— doing this. I'm uhm— I used to be a nurse, sort of. This— " She points to the list with a little bit of a grimace, "— sort of thing is a lot to learn and get used to so quickly. You know?"
Whether it's a good idea or not, Delia's nervous enough to start babbling. "It's really Delia," she says with a crooked smile that doesn't actually reach her eyes. "How soon can they be ready? Just so I can arrange everything."
"If you don't mind carrying a pack, I can send some with you right now. Not much, of course, but it will allow you to at least treat the worst cases immediately." For the moment, the list is ignored in favor of the kettle, the water inside beginning to audibly boil. As he drops a tea bag into one of the cups provided for coffee, Constantine works out the additional logistics in his head. "A truck should be large enough to move everything, and I can have some quantity of medicines ready for transport by the end of the weekend. More by next Thursday, of course, but at the very least, enough by Sunday so that you can begin treatments in earnest." Hot water added, the cup is moved across the counter to within Delia's reach.
"I don't mind carrying a pack, but I won't be going back until I can bring everything. The trip is— pretty far." A few hours by boat, at the very least. Delia manages to keep her hands from tembling as she takes the cup and blows on the liquid inside. It's good practice, this tea drinking business, for the club. After taking a tentative sip, she cradles it between her hands, not letting it rest against the counter completely. "If you need a courier, I can do it," she offers, maybe as a thanks for the tea or for the really big favor he's doing for them.
Again, Constantine nods, falling silently for a moment. The only obviously indication that he is thinking is the rhythmic tap of his fingertip on the counter. "If you can, you should try to have one of your associates take some of it back now," he says, "And then you can move the rest when it's assembled. Again, the sooner that treatment can begin, the better everyone will be. If I could furnish more vaccines, I would, but I don't have the supplies or equipment to do that."
A quick nod is given to Constantine as Delia clings to her cup as though it was a security blanket of sorts. "Everyone left there has been vaccinated already. Now it's just a matter of treating everyone that got sick before we could get them. The other nurse got some Tamiflu and she's testing it on one of the patients to see if it works." She glances toward the little porcelain kitten and scrunches her lips off to the side. "It's frustrating, hurry up and wait… We're racing around trying to fix everyone but there's nothing we can really do but sit and wait. Try to bring fevers down, keep them nourished and hydrated… It's just so— grrr." What it has to do with the kitten, nothing really.
A sheepish grin is offered to the shop owner again and she shakes her head with a twitch. "I'll have the pack brought back right away, promise. Sorry about— unloading."
Constantine offers a grin of his own, although his is knowing rather than sheepish. "Better in the shop than in the field," he says, making his way towards the curtain again, "I'll pull together the pack. Enjoy your tea, contact your associates. Urgent or not, take it one step at a time, and everything will fall into place."