What Are You Doing Here


quinn_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title What Are You Doing Here
Synopsis Sable shows up at Quinn's place, begging apology for the night before.
Date July 16, 2010

Gun Hill - Quinn's Apartment

It's early. Like, pretty darn early. Normal, working square type early. Just past seven thirty. Sable has dragged herself out of bed, her wounded arm hanging in a cast, upper arm braced in a splint to help the fracture set properly. You should have seen her at the clinic - she was so well behaved. She's not effing around with her guitar playing arm.

It's early, because Sable had work today, and she wasn't going to skip any more days. She's not permitted to go, she's agreed to abide and she has business. Stuff that can't wait. So she's up. Her teeth are brushed and she's fully dressed - a wonder at this hour. And she's at Quinn's door. Knocking with her left hand.

When the door opens moments later, a weary looking Quinn is revealed on the otherside, dressed in a short sleeve button up blue shirt and tan slacks, a bag around her shoulder and a helmet in hand. It takes her a moment to recognise Sable, likely due to the fact that she's still waking up, but once she does, her eyes narrow a bit. "Sable. What are you doing here." It stated flatly - any sense of joviality completely unfound in her voice.

Sable looks wounded. Not just the arm. Her expression, which was mostly one of fatigued 'push on through'-ness, collapses into puzzled upset. Some part of her lifts a defiant finger, ready with a rejoinder, or at least getting ready, but the better part of Sable bats it down. Not the time.

"Apologize, I figure," she states, "Unless I ain't welcome, I s'pose."

Quinn stares for a moment, before stepping back from the door and into her apartment, her face covered in, what is for her, a frighteningly stoic visage. "You pissed me off a right bit last night, Sable. I had t' talk those cops out of thinkin' I did somethin', and I'm not totally sure it worked." She gets about halfway through the room before turns back around. "It was rather unpleasant. I'm not inclined t' say you're not welcome, but I am not happy with you right now." Because honesty is always the best way to go, right?"

Sable looks pretty damn unhappy herself. She shuffles in, but stays near the door, ready to beat a hasty retreat. "I'm real fuckin' sorry," she says, eyes flicking from her shoes to Quinn and back again, "I mebbe wasn't thinkin' too hard, 'n' it was awful fuckin' ingratitude since I know it was you callin' th' cops that set 'im on the run, 'n' I wasn't doin' too fuckin' good in that fight. Y', like, saved me. So… yeah. I'm real fuckin' sorry."

"I'm not even worried about ingratitude, Sable!" Quinn quickly replies, her voice raising a bit, her tone with a hint of that pleading quality from teh night before. "Jesus Christ, look at your arm! You should 'ave spent last night with a doctor!" A hand raises up, once again rubbing her temples. "I know you have you issues with that kinda thing. I understand. But for God's sake, you have t' think of your own health sometimes, you know? I mean, why'd you even stay t' fight that guy, instead of just runnin' with Elaine int' a building where we could have gotten a bunch of people t' help?"

"Aw, hell," Sable says, "Odessa fixed me up real good. I'll be fine. Shithead can't keep me down…" This is an attempt at levity, an attempt to balloon the mood up a little, but the prevailing cold air of the interaction shrivels the attempt, causing it to sink back down, "I was a damn fool t' take 'im, I know. But… I wanted t' make sure Elaine got away safe 'n' sound. 'n'…" she pauses, "Tamara told me t' take th' knife. Gal can see what's comin' before it comes. Figured… she wouldn't tell me that 'nless I wasn't s'posed t' run." That, or Tamara knew Sable wouldn't run, and thus needed what weapons she could afford.

"From what I understand, Tamara sees everything," Quinn is quick to reply once more. "I enjoy the girl, an' she's quite fun if rather confusing, but I'm not sure I put that much stake in her sayin' things like that. I'm… not convinced she always knows what she's sayin'." At that, Quinn's face scrunches, hand covering her face in full. She didn't particularly enjoy airing her thoughts on other people, particularly not someone as seemingly nice as Tamara, and it made her feel kinda bad.

"Stayin' there and fighting him isn't helping, Sable." Quinn says after a moment. "It's makin' things worse." Face still hidden, she shakes her head. "Look at you. Look at how upset Elaine seemed, draggin' you in last night. Listen to the conversation we're having. This isn't helping. It's makin' things more stressful, makin' 'em worse." She pauses for a moment, and finally lets hr hand move from her face to her hips. "You an' Magnes both need t' realise that. Throwing yourself int' danger just hurts people more. If you an' Elaine'd come right on into Gun Hill, he might'a ran off, no one hurt. Or if he didn't, he'd surly have most a' the building t' deal with, an' we either having him where he belongs, or at least scared him off without hurtin' anyone."

Sable hangs her head, "Sure, sure," she says, "On all counts, hon. Not much I c'n do but pledge t' mend my ways, 'n' offer 'gain my sincere fuckin' apology." She lifts her good arm, hand spread, palm upward. "Figure y've got f'rgiveness f'r me in time? I'll wait," a beat, "Not, like, here. You look like yer goin' somewhere, 'n' I don't figure y' want me just hangin' 'round, but… like… yeah," she looks up, "I pretty fuckin' badly would like th' love 'f my friends right 'bout now. Seein' as I ain't gonna be able t' do th' one fuckin' thing I care 'bout doin' f'r a bit." Playing music, that is.

Quinn looks off to the side for a moment, a look of consideration on her face. "I work most a' today and tomorrow. Sunday I'm going t' Boston t' see mum." The first time she's mentioned it to anyone, even. "I… need t' get away for a bit. Maybe stop by tonight, see how I feel. If not, I'll see you when I get back next weekend. We'll see how things are then."

Sable cannot hide her disappointment. She doesn't try. But she doesn't display any frustration or anger. She looks like a whipped dog, mostly. Pitiful, but not prone to bite. Cowed. "Arright," she says, "I'll miss y'. Y' have a good one in Boston. Cool fuckin' town," she tries smiling, "Mebbe y' can say hello t' some folks I know f'r me."

"Trust me, I know how cool Boston is. Lived there for several years. Thought I told you that, even." Quinn gives Sable a confused look, before waving a hand at her. "Maybe. I think most a' the time's going t' be spent being dragged around time by mom, showing me all kinds of rubbish an' her new paintings." She can quite obviously see how Sable is, and she feels for her, but she remains stern - this point has to get across, and she can't let it get lost in the sympathy she so very much wants to give the other girl. In this instance, overwhelming sympathy just won't help.

"Yeah, y' did, jus'… sayin' I knew… aw, never mind," Sable says, her ramshackle but usually relatively fluid articulation coming apart at the seams, "Y' have a good time, arright? I'll see y' when I see y'." She frowns, "Don't you f'rget I love y'. Stupid as I may be, that's 't least one thing I get right."

Quinn is silent for a moment before she gives Sable a nod. "I know. An' I care deeply for you, Sable. That's why I can't stand it when you do things like this. I just…" She trails off for a moment, shaking her head. "I'll have a good time. Don't worry 'bout me. Just take care of yourself while I'm gone. Please don't get int' anymore trouble like that if you can help it."

This is more or less all Sable was after. Some minimal reassurance. She smiles, wan and childish. "Sure, sure," she clicks her heels together, lifts her left hand in a salute, "Whatever y' say, ma'am," she grins a little, "Y' are my savior 'n' all."

There's no immediate response to that, instead Quinn turns away, heading towards her kitchen. She disappears within just briefly, returning after a moment with a plate containing bacon, a few unsyruped waffles, and a piece of sausage. "I have t' eat and go to work in a bit," she states very matter of factly, plopping down on her couch. "Take care of your arm today, Sable."

Sable nods and steps back towards the door. "As y' wish, hon," she says, "See you…" she slips out, turns, walks for the stairs. Heart a little lighter, still a bit heavy.

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