Participants:
| Scene Title | Until The Lights Go Out |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Len is called away from the gala ball to rescue a damsel in distress. |
| Date | August 28, 2009 |
"So whatchu in for, Red? Late library books? You run a yellow light?"
Tamsine is curled up on the very cold, very hard bench of a holding cell. Luckily, there's only one other woman in the female side of lockup, so each have their own cell, but the other woman's been mocking Tamsine all day. She's clearly a hooker, wearing too-small clothing in a too-large body. She's leaning against the bars of her cell, trying to get Tamsine to look at her.
"Come on, you can tell Mimi what you done. I ain't gonna tell nobody but my pimp. He likes redheads, mmhmm."
Tamsine finally gets up and goes to the end of her cell closest to the guard at the end of the cement room. She'd asked for a court-appointed attorney hours ago, when she first got processed. Her one phone call had been to Adam, to tell him she'd been detained by something (or someone) and to go on his trip without her, that she'd call and try to catch up with them later.
"Officer?" Tamsine calls down the way. Luckily the guard there is not anti-Evolved like Aude, and actually feels bad for the pretty teleporter. He hurries down the way and glares at the other woman.
"Shuddup, Mimi," he tells the hooker who makes a face at Officer Rawlings.
"You just like her 'cause she's pretty and clean, but she can't give you a good time like I can, Jimmy," Mimi says with what she surely hopes is a saucy wink. But she shuts her red-lipsticked mouth and goes to sit on her own cot.
"I'd like to make another phone call, Officer Rawlings," Tamsine says quietly, her dark eyes pleading with the handsome rookie cop. "The court appointed attorney's not here, and the person I'm calling is a Homeland agent… I'm not trying to get out or anything, I just want this ordeal over quickly. Can I call him? Maybe he can transfer my custody."
Rawlings mulls it over. "I suppose we'd just give you to them anyway. Come on." He unlocks her cell — really a stupid way to detain her, if she wasn't willing to abide with her detention, as she could simply step anywhere within a 100 mile radius if she really wanted. He leads her to the phone.
"There's a card in my purse… can you get it for me? His name is Len Denton." Why she remembers his name, she's not sure, but she does. A few moments later, she's dialing his number.
Honestly, the call from Tamsine Whittaker would not have come soon enough. He was dying at that formal event and he was looking for a reason to get out. The tie has already been pulled off and tossed into the passenger seat, his top button undone and jacket removed and hung on a hanger so that it can avoid getting messed up. It was a rental. He pulls into the precinct and gets on out. He doesn't have a warrant, nor does he have a transfer order. This may be tricky if the NYPD chooses to be dicks about this.
He slips from the jeep and slips into the building and walks up to the desk sergeant and asks to be directed to someone in charge.
The discusson doesn't go well. Since Denton doesn't have a warrant or a transfer order, there is only one way that the officer in charge will allow Tamsine to be released from custody. Len isn't quite sure how that's going to go over, but he agrees to discuss it with her, so they lead him to an interrogation room where they have placed her to meet with him. He walks in and shakes his head. "And I thought you were one of the good girls." he says with a good natured grin to show he's teasing her.
Tamsine's somehow held it together. Her eyes are clear and there's no signs of tears. This may be frightening and it may be upsetting, but it's nothing compared to the loss of her child. She can weather this. She can even handle Mimi. She just doesn't want to longer than she has to.
"Thank you for coming," she says. Her hands are in handcuffs, which look utterly strange on the diminutive and sweet-faced redhead. She's wearing worn, torn-up jeans, a pair of flip flops, and a Yankees t-shirt, which look all the shabbier compared to his formal wear.
"They supposedly called a lawyer but that was hours ago," she explains. "I thought maybe you could help."
And of course, he wouldn't be who he is without being prepared. Len walks over and sits across from her and reaches over with a key and unfastens her cuffs and sets the pair aside. "Don't worry. They've agreed to release you on a few conditions. We should have you home in the next couple of hours." He knows when she was processed in and who arrested her. It was actually rather startling to see Magnes Varlane's name on the arrest sheet. "I wish you had called me sooner. It couldn't have been a pleasant experience. You have't been mistreated, have you?" he asks, just to be certain.
She shakes her head, her two braids swinging with the movement. The braids make her look younger and more vulnerable than she already is. "The officer on guard duty's been very nice, actually, and the only bad thing has been the hooker in there and what they called meatloaf for lunch," she says with a slight smile. "What are the conditions?" she asks, a moment later. "I mean… I hadn't registered, knowingly. Don't I have to serve time?" Only then does she pale a little, the thought of actually having to stay in jail, or even going to a larger facility, frightening her a bit.
Reaching into his pocket, Len pulls out a folded form and slides it across the table. "If you fill this form out and follow through with the registration process, they'll drop the charges against you." He produces a pen and slides it across the table as well. "I appreciate the fact that you did not zap yourself from jail, though I imagine that it must have been very tempting to do so. You are far braver than you give yourself credit for." He doesn't know her story, or what she's gone through, or he'd already know that she was made of stern stuff.
She takes the pen and begins filling it out. She smiles at his comments. "They know where I live… and I don't want to hide from them for the rest of my life. I've seen the one officer at least three times, just around… he was at the courthouse too, climbing on walls like he was Spiderman or something," she says with a chuckle. "New York's big, but at times it's not, you know?" She fills out the form, biting her lip at part that asks if any family members are known Evolveds. She looks up and taps the form with her pen. "If someone's deceased, do they want to know that too, or are they just hoping I'm going to drop a dime on poor Uncle Hank in Utica?" She smiles, a little, to show she's joking. "There's no Uncle Hank, by the way."
"Tell them whatever you want them to know." he says as he leans back in the very awkward chair. There must be some short people in the NYPD. Len lets one of his fingers trace over his other thumb as they rest on the table. He watches as she fills out the form. "Just make sure whatever you tell them is the truth, because they will check it out. They're much more forgiving if you just leave something out, as opposed to coming out and lying about it. "You'll get a call or a notice in the mail about when and where to go to complete the registration process. If you like, I can assist you." He's got quite a bit on his plate, but this is a very nice woman who deserves better than to be treated like a criminal. She saved a man's life, for crying out loud. He wants to do right by her.
"There's nothing to lie about. The only family member I know is … was… evolved was my daughter. But she's gone, and I don't know if they want to know about that or not," she says quietly. She goes ahead and fills out that part of the form — her handwriting is big and bubbly in that girlish way that he can probably read it, if he can read upside down: Daughter, Liliana Whitaker, Telekinesis, deceased, March 14. An infamous day now in New York history, the day of the "36" suicides.
Tamsine finishes filling out the form. "I know what I can do — can't they just take my word for it? What's the rest of the process?" There's a little fear when she looks up at him. The local police station — well, there's something "neighborhoody" about it, but to go to Homeland Security's offices seems scarier, more foreign.
Len's gone throught he process as part of his work with the Company. He doesn't have the gene, but he knows what it's like. He talks her through the process. Blood work. Demonstration of her ability. He gives her the entire spiel. "You know what you can do, but they are going to want to make sure that's all you can do. It's more time consuming than anything else, but if you want, I'll be there with you every step of the way. If I'm with you, they are not gong to give you too hard of a time." He gives her a warm grin. "If they do, I'll be giving them a hard time." he gives her a playful wink, that's not meant to be flirtaceous but more for comfort. His eyes are drawn to the paper as she writes, and he notes a few things, but the date doesn't yet ring his bell. Perhaps later on when he's had time to connect the dots..
Tamsine nods and puts the pen down. "So then I don't need this lawyer who's theoretically coming? Because… to tell you the truth, I don't trust him to show up to court on time." She shivers slightly. "And I really don't want to go to the courthouse any time soon," she adds.
"As long as you complete the process, you're good to go. If you don't, they'll come knocking on your door again." Len stands and bangs on the door. When it opens, he hands the paper to the officer who opens the door. He glances at the paper and nods. "Okay, she's clear to go, Agent. Just remember, you're on the hook if she doesn't appear to be tested." Len grins at the officer. "Don't you worry, son. I'll make sure she's there." With that, he motions for her to come with him. "Let's get you home. I can drive you if you want, or if you feel more comfortable, I can have the officer here call you a cab."
"I trust you," Tamsine says, tilting her head to look the very long way up to his face. "Thank you again." She frowns. "So I have a question. If I'm registered, is it actually okay to use my powers? I've… avoiding using it to get caught, but you know, I could save on cab fare and such if I'm actually allowed to use it. And probably gain 20 pounds in a year from the lack of exercise."
ORDER: It is now your pose.
Len leads her out of the precinct and to his Jeep. He removes the tie that's in the passenger seat and tucks it into his pocket. "Sorry, I was at some fancy shindig when I got the call." His jacket is hanging in the back on a hanger. He holds the door open so she can climb in. "Well, we've plenty of folks around who aren't too friendly to those with power, so I highly recommend that you use your powers only when you've got to. At least for now. The deal at Columbia, and there have been very public kidnappings, and a few not so public." He grits his teeth just a little as he says the last.
Tamsine nods, frowning at the seriousness of the hatred and prejudice. She climbs into the Jeep, smiling at the juxtaposition of the fancy tuxedo and the rugged automobile. "And the courthouse. Got that one firsthand," she reminds him. "No, I was only kidding. I'm not really the type to flaunt something like that anyway. I prefer to be low key, really. Are you sure you don't mind taking me home? I could take a cab." She realizes she has no idea where he lives, and how far out of the way she may be for him.
Considering she hasn't told him where she lives, his answer might be a little confusing. "It's on my way home. Not a problem whatsoever." Fact is, he has to leave the city to go home, so really no matter where she lives, it's not too far fetched. At least for him. He shuts her door, then moves around the Jeep and climbs in and starts up the engine before he buckles his seat belt. "Where are we going?" he asks, giving her a grin.
She gives him the address and directions, reaching up to pull her seatbelt on. Because click it, or ticket. It's the law. And she's now a law-abiding citizen, now that she's registered. "Does this … what is it, a felony? Misdemeanor? Does it show up on my record, or is it all cleared now, as long as I show up to be poked and prodded?" she asks.
Pulling out of the parking lot, Len zips onto the road and starts towards her residence. As she asks the question, he gives her a glance. She is quite pretty, he thinks to himself before he remembers to answer her question. "No. It would only go on record if you were convicted. They'll probably note that you were arrested, then released. Otherwise, no conviction, no fowl. You're just a sidenote, I'm afraid." His attention back on the road as he sees a red light and slows down to come to a stop, only to continue on his way when it turns green.
"I'm all right with being a sidenote," Tamsine says with a smile. "So what was the gala event? I'm really sorry I pulled you away… I could have waited." She'd have had to spent the night in jail, of course, with Mimi running her big mouth all night, of course, but she could have done it. "I do appreciate it. I didn't know who else to call, and I didn't want my parents to know, though they could have probably gotten me a lawyer." She blushes a little at the thought of her parents having to bail her out.
There's a brief moment of confusion, then Len lets out a laugh. "Are you kidding? I hate those things. I only went because there was someone I needed to introduce myself to. Trust me, I was happy to have been pulled away. I thought for a moment I might have to eat those black fish egg things. Your call, and a Whopper, saved me." A little more serious, "Don't worry. There was no way I was going to leave you there. They should never had taken you there. Were you even given the opportunity to register before they brought you in?"
She shakes her head. "I was arrested at my house. They took me out of my house in handcuffs. I told them I'd go willingly, and that my power, if I teleport, people can follow me, for a few seconds, so it wouldn't do me any good to try to run from them that way. But she said it was procedure," Tamsine says. There's some rawness to her voice, as she turns to look out her window. "Now I have to explain to my neighbors why I got hauled away in handcuffs. I've lived there for ten years, you know?"
"Tell them it was a misunderstanding, if you don't want them to know the truth. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you. It's hard to know who to trust these days." Len says as he finally pulls in front of her place, putting the Jeep in Park. He takes a few glances around to make sure there aren't any nosey neighbors keeping an eye out for her return. "Do you need me to check your place out? Have you had any trouble in your home recently?" He's a little miffed at the way this was handled. He understands those who are dangerous, being handled in such a manner, but her ability is not that dangerous. It's mild compared to some.
"No, no problems," Tamsine says with a shake of her head. "I'll let you get home. Sorry for interrupting your night, even if it was boring and had nothing better to eat than caviar." She smiles. "I really appreciate all your help, Mister Denton." She pushes the button to release her seat belt and opens the door. "Have a good night."
Len's mother would scold him for not rushing out to open her door, but really he doesn't want to draw any attention to the woman. "Good night, Ms. Whittaker." He watches her until she's safely inside her home. But, for some reason he doesn't drive away. As her lights come on, he sticks around until all the lights go back out before he finally drives off, heading back towards Fort Hero.