What the Grapevine Spilled


laura_icon.gif marla_icon.gif

Scene Title What the Grapevine Spilled
Synopsis Laura gets Marla to agree to a future, joint raid. Life as a thief is good.
Date January 21, 2009

Linderman Building - Courtyard

As far as courtyards go, the one encircled by the Linderman Building is fairly standard in its appearance, much like the rest of the premises. It's certainly expansive, lending it an air of the impressive, but it's nothing out of the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Healthy green foliage is speckled with dots of colour in the form of a variety of flowers in various stages of bloom, depending on the time of year. The centrepiece of the cobblestoned court is a large, ornate fountain of white stone, depicting two angels in their pristine robes, arms stretched upward toward the heavens as water flows up into the air in tandem before cascading down into the deep, wide basin. The edge of the fountain serves as seating, with only minimal spray reaching the inner lip of the stone. Along the cobblestone paths, dark cherry wood benches provide a place to sit and enjoy the outdoors.

The Linderman Building isn't usually where Marla decides to come when she has free time in the evening, though neither is she a stranger. The tiles, the green-fringed ornateness, the openness; it's all pretty familiar thanks to several previous encounters. Looking her usual, nonchalantly spike-haired self, the Evolved thief stands around in the massive space with hands shoved in her pockets - turning her head this way and that to confirm that Laura isn't yet here — before seating herself on the circular rim of the fountain, crossing her legs and examining her fingernails while humming something unevenly under her breath. As she hums, she actually bobs her head lightly from side to side for the briefest of seconds. All in all, to say she looks distracted is an understatement; not in the sense of being /nervous/, but simply like a harmlessly antsy little kid. One gets the feeling that if something doesn't happen soon, she'll get up to wander about the courtyard again.

Laura isn't very late; just a little bit. "Sorry!" she declares as she steps out into the courtyard from the building, the door swinging energetically shut behind her. "Didn't mean to keep you waiting," the younger woman adds with a warm, apologetic smile. She's dressed for the cool winter weather, blues and greens today, with her hair a little more mussed than usual — possibly because she ran here from somewhere else. "You weren't waiting long, right?"

The beating of the door causes Marla's eyebrows to arch as she swiftly turns to look. "Nooot a problem," she affirms easily when the other woman is clearly within earshot, hands sliding on the fountain's edge for purchase as she readjusts her position. She doesn't get up, though the tilt of her gaze indicates if Laura wants to move over towards one of the benches, she'll follow suit. "Yeah, m'not in any kind of hurry. So you're Laura, huh."

"Oh, good." Rather than make any direct response to Marla's suggestion, Laura takes the expedient solution of hopping up on the fountain's rim a little ways over from her companion. Her feet swing idly back and forth once she's settled. "That's me, yes," the younger woman confirms with a cheerful smile. "And you're Marla. I like your hair," she adds as an aside. "Have you been around here — with the Group, in the city, what have you— " Laura waves a hand expansively. "— very long?"

That works, then. Marla promptly resettles herself when Laura does, bringing one of her knees upwards to lock her fingers around it. The aura she gives off is not unlike that of a stuffed, comfortable cat, though still a mildly restless one. At the compliment, she grins and reaches up to pat a fringe of her wild side-bangs into place. It does absolutely nothing. "Thanks, I'm kinda fond of it myself. I'm not exactly a /regular/ for the Group, but I've been around for a while, I guess. A couple years before the Bomb and all that big stuff."

"Well, neither am I," Laura points out, with another wry smile. If Marla's a cat, she's doing a fine imitation of a fidgety finch at the moment, perched upon the fountain rim. "I've only been here, in New York, for… like a year." A beat. "So you probably know the city better than I do. Which is good. I've got a job coming up that I could probably use a second on, and the grapevine eventually spilled your name."

"Hoho. A job, you say." Laura has Marla's attention properly captured now, even though the dark-haired woman is currently squinting at her foot with one eye closed as if there's a midge on it. Flexing and pointing it idly, she lets another second pass by before she cooks up a reply. "I suppose I've gotten around a bit. The Bomb cracked open a few doors, if you know what I mean. Whatcha got in mind?"

Laura can wait while Marla studies her toe. She can even do it with something resembling grace (if an effervescent form rather than serene and still), because she can tell the other woman is well and truly hooked. It's in the voice. "Weeell… its an exercise in industrial espionage, basically. Some high-tech display thing that one company's going to get into mass production first, figure it's going to revolutionize the market, all that jazz." Laura shrugs, unconcerned, waving a hand to dismiss the business matters that aren't any business of hers. "Apparently there's two parts in different areas. I could hit them both myself, but doing that at once is asking to get caught, and I can't afford a second trip." Again, asking to get caught.

And up goes one of Marla's dark eyebrows again, cementing her look of quizzical intrigue. For now, fascinating as it is, her foot ceases to be the center of her visual attention. Doop de doop. "So you're talking about a joint operation type thing. Two parts, two people - that splices out nicely. Where, when?" Also, anything else Laura has in mind. That last part isn't asked, but it's heavily implied. Details are good.

"Nothin' too fast. I held out for… there's almost a week left. Six days before I need to return with something," Laura supplies. "Figured I'd see if you had an evening sometime where we could sit down and go over my notes." That would supply the where, also.

""Almost a week. Just fine." Echoing this, Marla seems satisfied by the offered timing. She nods. 'You have twenty-four hours!' deals are stressful. "Sure, we can set up something. There's one more thing I wanna know about, first, and I'm pretty sure you can guess." To make her point, she rubs her thumb and forefinger past each other in a subtle but time-recognized gesture. Marla isn't hiring out her services for free, of course, though she doesn't look especially concerned; Laura no doubt knows the drill.

Knows it, lives it. Laura grins broadly at her companion. "Oh, don't worry — they're paying my rates," she informs Marla with more than a hint of smugness; if Marla's picked up anything about Laura's reputation, it's warranted, "and half of that's yours." As of right now.

Not too much, but enough to have touched on it. "That's what I need to know," Marla grunts in return, twiddling her fingertips on top of her knee. Fifty-fity. No fairer deal possible. "This little meeting of ours, then. I don't really operate on ahh- a schedule- so just gimme a time, and I'll make room for yours truly." That means no regular rates like Laura gets, either, but that's perfectly fine. There's enough fat on the land (or New York City, rather) to live off for a lifetime.

"Sure. How about tomorrow evening? I've got loose ends to tie up today, but there's no reason to dawdle about it otherwise." Laura shrugs, and grins at the other woman. "You might want to get in a bit of your own recon besides. See the place with your own eyes."

January 21st: Upstairs, Two Doors Down
January 21st: Six Shooter Kisses
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