What About Disney World?


felix_icon.gif keira_icon.gif

Scene Title What About Disney World?
Synopsis Two people formerly on opposite sides meet again on much more neutral ground.
Date May 5, 2018

Prufrock's Books

Once upon a time he was a smartass detective in a good suit and glasses, one of those NYPD Keira encountered in the course of her career. Flawlessly polite, very dry, smarter than the average cop.

The intervening ten, twelve years have not been kind. Gone are the good suits, replaced by an old canvas army parka, worn jeans, t-shirt. There are myriad scars on head and face that weren't there, and the light brown hair is streaked with gray. Must've been a tough decade. But it's still recognizably Detective Ivanov, from back when. That profile, even lined and battered, is distinctive. He's got plain black reading glasses on, perusing the place's shelves with a kind of careful deliberation.

Once upon a time, there was a smartass drug dealer / gun runner who was getting by fairly well in the New York crime scene. She was arrested a few times by Detective Ivanov, and she always paid him plenty of compliments in the process. Smarter than the average criminal, possibly destined to climb the ranks at least a little bit higher than most petty thugs in her line of business.

Time has changed Keira as well, though it's been far more gentle with her than it has for Felix. Mostly, she just looks a little bit more mature than she did more than ten years ago She's gotten rid of the enormous gauged ears and gotten them surgically fixed, and gone are the days of wearing as little clothing as possible to expose her large collection of tattoos. She's traded the small tops for a snug black and white long-sleeved raglan shirt with a 'Run DMC' logo on the front, and gloves cover her hands, tucked under the sleeves to hide any potentially exposed skin. A pair of snug-fitting skinny jeans covers her legs, tucked into a pair of black combat boots. Today, a pair of glasses rests upon the bridge of her nose, while a black slouchy beanie covers a majority of her short-cropped blonde hair.

Not many people would expect to see a thug like her perusing the shelves of a bookstore, and yet here she is. She's already grabbed herself a coffee, and she's now quietly perusing the shelves, fingers trailing fondly over the spines of the books as she moves. She pauses near Felix, pulling out a book and looking it over — the familiar face in the corner of her eye catches her attention, however, and it's not long before blue eyes snap to Felix. "Detective Ivanov?" She sounds somewhere between amused and incredulous.

He turns at that, slowly, as if to avoid provoking her. Something about the tone….and it's been a long time since he was addressed as 'Detective'.

The blue eyes are as sharp as ever, but he's squinting at her as if he can't quite bring her name to mind. That tip of the tongue sort of blankness. "I'm sorry," he says, finally. "I don't know your name now. I know I arrested you several times. I don't think I ever got a conviction to stick." OF course he remembers the situations, if not the name. "You were always very polite, I remember that. And it's been years since I was a cop."

So it is him. Interesting. The shapeshifter sips at her coffee, blue eyes trailing over his form, memorizing his appearance for whatever future reference she may need. After a moment she replies, "Keira," blue eyes snapping up to the man's face as a small smile forms on her face. "You were always nice about handcuffing me. Didn't even get bothered a little when I hit on you." The woman chuckles softly, turning her gaze back down to the book in her hands. This looks like an interesting one — she flips it open, skimming over the blurb on the inside of the cover.

Then, she turns her eyes back up the former cop. "I've seen you around." A long pause, as she looks the man over. "Glad you're in one piece, even after all you've been through." That's definitely a genuine statement — she saw some of the horror that has changed the fresh cop she flirted with once into the scarred man she randomly ran into in a book store today.

She briefly considered reaching for the gun hidden under her shirt, but there's no need to make a scene.

"Keira," he echoes back, as if committing it to memory. That old furrow in his brow. "I like to think I was professional, maybe a little less piggish than some." His voice is rueful, raspier than it once was. "Thank you. Glad to see you survived the war." All of the old stuff just water under the bridge, it seems. That there might be bitterness remaining hasn't occurred to him…..or he doesn't seem to care. Might just be apathy. "I'm Felix," he adds, after a beat. Did she ever know his first name?

“You were a better cop than some I’ve met,” is the response he gets as the woman takes a sip of her coffee. After a moment, she carefully sets the paper cup down on the shelf in front of her, and flips through a few pages of the book that she had picked out. Yeah, this one looks promising. She nods to herself, before closing the book and lifting her coffee once more.

She isn’t bitter, really. Jail was always a fact of life, and it was the best she could do to stay out of it, or stay at the top of the food chain when she was in it. She never blamed the cops for doing their jobs — her bitterness is reserved toward people who did actual bad things to her, not the ones who were just doing their job.

“Good to meet you properly, Felix.” She offers a small smile. Water under the bridge, certainly — the world has come a long way since the last time Felix put handcuffs on Keira. “Glad you survived too — most of my surviving was done in Mexico, honestly.”

His answering smile is crooked, a little weary. “Considering some of the NYPD I used to know, that’s not a high bar to set. But thanks.” The mention of Mexico has him looking thoughtful. “I imagine that was a better place than most, especially if you wanted to stay out of the war. Me, well…..I didn’t have that much sense.” Which would explains why he looks like he lost a fight with a ton of bricks. “What’re you up to now, if I may ask?” A beat, and he hastens to add, “I’m not any kind of law enforcement or government official now. That’s all behind me.” As if being a cop or an FBI Agent were a bad drinking spell he’s done his best to get over and forget. He didn’t seem like one of those cops who crawled into a bottle in his spare time. Nor does he look like one now. For all the scars and the lines, he’s still clear-eyed and focussed, if without that old air of jumpy, nervous energy that used to hover around him.

The woman offers a faint smile and a small laugh. “If you knew me better, you’d take that as the biggest compliment someone can give.” She chuckles, taking a swig of the coffee again. “Cabo was nice. Peaceful, though I got to see the effects of th’war every day.” She tucks her chosen book under her arm, leaning against the shelf in front of her.

The question prompts her to raise her eyebrows, and then a smirk sets on her face. “I’ve developed a nice entrepreneurial mindset since I went to Cabo. Had a good business there. Run my own business up here, too. Small right now, but growin’ every day.” She grins. “End goal is to take over the world, but I got a lot of work to do t’get there.”

Fel grins at that, more broadly, and bows, just a fraction. Appreciating the humor in it, clearly. “I imagine it was. I was only ever in Mexico briefly, and that on business.” Read: probably doing some sort of joint op with the DEA or Border agents. The taking over the world makes him chuckle, softly. “I’m sure. It’s a very different city now, than the one I grew up in.”

“Different than the New York I came to like 15 years ago,” she murmurs, nodding in agreement. “In any case, you should check out Mexico for its entertainment value. They know how to party down there.” She grins. “‘Specially Cabo. Man, I miss my beach.” Her beach. Like, she owned it. “Though I don’t miss the heat sometimes.” She shrugs.

“So what are you up to these days, aside from not being a government official?”

He hesitates, lips parted, clearly mulling over his response. “Not very much,” he settles on, finally. “Doing some private contracting work upstate.” That’s vague - that could be anything from mercenary warfare to IT consulting. “I’d come down here to look for traces of some people I’d lost touch with, before the war and during. Just visiting. I lived in Florida the past few years….the beaches there were one of the few compensations for the climate. But….it was time for a change.” There’s something almost wistful in his face - whatever else, the years of recovery in Florida were peaceful. But then ‘peaceful’ is never something he’s been able to endure for any great length of time

The shapeshifter raises one eyebrow at the vague answer — then again, her answer was just as vague, as ‘entrepreneurial’ could mean many different things — though for her, the implication is obviously there, given her past. “Man, beaches are the best. I miss the sand between my toes.” She misses the wide open spaces where she could wear her preferred scant coverage without having to worry about someone bumping into her and setting off her obnoxiously involuntary ability.

“I feel you, needin’ a change. I went through th’same shit before I came back here. Like minds, y’know.” She grins. “Funny, never thought I’d find common ground with one of th’cops that arrested me when I was a stupid kid.” A sip of her coffee is taken.

There’s that rueful look, still. The irony is not lost on him, either. Not in the least. “Amazing how that works, isn’t it?” he asks. “Like we’re both actual human beings.” Mocking himself, more than her, by his expression. “I agree, though, about beaches. I grew up in New York, Rockaway was about as close as I got, and it does not compare to either of the Florida coasts.”

“Born an’ raised in Buffalo, before I came out here.” Keira swishes the contents of her half-full coffee cup around. “After a lifetime up here in the northern hemisphere, it was nice goin’ to the beach and wiggling my toes in the sand. Cabo beaches, too, man. If you’re ever in that neck of the woods, check ‘em out.” She chuckles. “I’ll be sure to check out the Florida beaches, too. Did you frequent Disney World at all?”

That grin creases his face - always a hair too broad for that wolfish long jaw. “No,” he says. It’s surprisingly bright, that smile, no hint of cynicism or weariness. “Can’t say I ever did. Never did go as a kid, never had time, money, or inclination as an adult. I take you have?”

Keira actually laughs at that. “No sir, never had the money or a parent who gave a fuck enough as a kid, and never had the thought t’do it as an adult. Kinda wish I had gone, though.” She smiles faintly, shaking her head.

“I didn’t get to the US until I was eleven,” he explains, after a moment. “And we were poor immigrants. We never had the money, at least not until I was too old to really be pushing for it. We did go down to Florida for the beaches…..used to have distant kin who’d settled there.” A beat, and then, “And then I was adult, and too busy and too poor myself. No kids, so no real force to go. I wonder how the war treated it.”

Keira raises her brows slightly, a sign that she is…actually rather interested in this conversation, and might even be enjoying herself, talking to a man who put her in handcuffs a decade ago. “I do wonder.” She pauses, taking a sip of her coffee. “Hm.”

After a moment, she offers a small grin to Felix. “How’s this. I’ll put my feelers out on Disney World. If it’s still operatin’, perhaps you ‘n I can start off a friendship with a trip down there.” She chuckles.

And not even the fun kind of handcuffs! Assuming she’s in to that sort of thing. He laughs at her, but it’s not in the least mocking, just genuinely amused. “Hell, you never know. Though it’ll be a long while before I can afford a leisure trip, in terms of either time or money. But we’ll see. Old dogs can turn over new leaves.” Then he pauses, realizing he’s mixed two proverbs, and not entirely successfully, it seems. “I’d be more likely to beg a trip to Cabo, but I can’t imagine that’d turn out well. I don’t bet your old business partners would take well to you showing up with an ex-Fed in tow.”

Keira offers her own genuine laugh, leaning lightly against the shelf. “Oh, money is never an issue for me. I’m just that kinda person who will make you pay me back at some point in some way.” She chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“Yeah, dunno how kind Cabo would be t’you. My boys like me, but you are right — they might not take too kindly to an ex-fed with an unfortunately recognizable face.” Another sip is taken of the coffee. “I know of a few nice beaches that aren’t in Cabo, though.”

“Karma’s a bitch, innit?” His tone is amused, rather than seriously annoyed, though. This is all building castles in the air, after all. She hasn’t tried to shoot, stab, or otherwise take out of his hide those old arrests, so he’s ahead of the game, as far as he can tell. “And exactly. Though that sounds like a deal with the devil, that kind of open-ended favor being owed.”

“You would be smart to make that observation.” Keira chuckles, draining the last of her coffee and swishing the cup slightly, as if to be sure that she got every last drop. “I do like my favors.” The woman grins, tipping her head toward Felix.

“Karma is the most awful bitch in th’world,” is offered up, the woman grinning. “While I won’t tell you my personal story, I can tell you that I have first hand experience with Karma’s bitchy ways.”

“Me, too,” he says, on a sigh. “And I think I’ll avoid open-ended favors being owed. It was one thing when I was a cop or an Agent and part of the system. Now it’s just me all on my lonesome against the big old world.” Though clearly this one’s a survivor. You don’t end up wearing scars like that and still walking around, if you aren’t.

“That is an entirely understandable thing to avoid. If you ever want to trade favors, though, I do tend to work in those a lot.” The little gangster smiles, crushing the coffee cup. “In any case, I’m sure you don’t want to spend your entire day chatting with a former criminal who you put in jail.” She adjusts her jacket, smiling to Felix as she peers up at him with those blue eyes of hers.

Felix is, unsurprisingly, wary. But he finally relents. “That makes sense,” he says, after a beat. “How would I get in touch with you?” He doesn’t have the government behind him, not anymore. Now he’s a private citizen, without all his old obligations. A little more wiggle room, when it comes to making deals.

Seems like Keira’s giving her number out a lot these days. The woman reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a blank business card with a simple phone number printed on it — no name, no other details. “Call that, and you can reach me, usually. If not me, then I have assistants who help me manage my time.” She smiles, dipping her head toward the man. “I have plenty to offer, just ask.”

Then, after another pause, she dips her head toward Felix with a smile. “Good chatting with you, Felix. Glad you’re doing okay for yourself.” Then, she’s on her way to purchase her book, never one for big goodbyes and all that fun shit.

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