Participants:
| Scene Title | When We're Through |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sometimes it's both looking for some quiet and looking to talk about things. |
| Date | July 24, 2011 |
Skinny Brickfront: Rooftop
This is a standard rooftop. There are two large air conditioning units that no longer function, several chimneys that are blocked up by birds' nests, and three ancient television antennae. The things that are not the norm are the four plastic containers that appear to be cisterns. Two of them are shaded by what appears to be superintendent's shed built right onto the roof while the other two are painted black and set out on the dusty surface.
Early evening and the end of the weekend finds Graeme back at the safehouse again, though he's been noticeably absent most of the past two days, even more than his usual dropping by for an hour or two or more, depending upon. The beginning of the heat of the day lifting finds Graeme climbing up to the rooftop, though, rather than the usual spot he finds in the corner of the common room. He's humming a bit off key to himself, dressed more casually than usual, in just shorts and a teeshirt.
Elisabeth likes it up here. She sits up here in the gathering dusk and into the night often. Perhaps just because it's quiet and though the heat of the day hasn't dissipated it offers some respite from the closed spaces below…. or maybe she's hoping someone will show up. The only time she's ever laid eyes on her son was here. And the boy's father likes shadows too, after all.
When Graeme steps out onto the rooftop, the blonde turns from her perusal of the city to look toward him. She can't tell who he is at first, but he came from inside, so theoretically he's no threat. When she gets a look at him she smiles faintly. "Hey there."
"Hey you," comes the response, as Graeme makes his way to lean on one of the outcroppings of cement near Liz. Perhaps the teacher was expecting to find her up here, even, or even came looking for her, though not specifically so much as just that he does seem to relax a little. "How's it?" The drawl of a question comes after a long moment of just standing there silently, his own gaze sweeping over the city and the skyline that's visible from where he stands.
"Not bad," Elisabeth replies. "Hot, sticky. Makes me not want to do a damn thing, frankly. But… " She trails off still leaning on one of the supports. "Were you looking for me, or just looking for some quiet?"
Graeme's hands come out from his pockets, fidgeting, and he bounces on his heels a little. "Both, a bit," he says. "The heat's better than the cold as far as I care, though Ygraine took me to task on Friday for not paying enough attention to my body what with the heat and all that." Bit of a sheepish look accompanies that. "But I still like it much more than the cold. Never missed winter when I was in New Mexico."
"Ah," Elisabeth replies with a smile. "Be careful. In this heat it's easy to get overwhelmed. It makes me lazy, but I keep forcing the water too." She pauses, averting her eyes slightly. "What did you need me for?" she asks curoiusly.
"Yes'm," Graeme says with a faint, cheeky grin. "I'm being careful now." The grin doesn't fade, either. "Was just figuring I'd let you know to watch out for if Devon gets it into his head to get on a skateboard, or anything … I'm pretty sure it's not a good idea, at the moment." There's a pause. "Since, he has one now, and all." Despite the cheeky grin, Graeme's tone betrays the frustration and the small lack of understanding there, and fades into more of a tight-lipped line as he shoves his hands into his pockets again.
Now she shoots a glance at him and starts to smile but his face alerts her to a problem. "What's going on?" Elisabeth asks bluntly.
Graeme pauses, hands fidgeting. "I'd been teaching Devon to skateboard for a few weeks," Graeme says. "I just have a weird feeling that he's maybe not going to entirely take it easy," he continues. "After all, he's a teenager."
"Probably not. But if he tears open those stitches, I can promise you that instead of taking him to have them redone I will duct tape the damn gash closed," Elisabeth replies quietly. "Or I might be nice and at least use medical tape. Depends on how very much he fouls them." Her tone is dry. She might be joking….
"I'm half tempted to just take the skateboard back with me," Graeme admits. "Drop it off at the apartment or something until he won't eat pavement." There's another grin, eventually.
Elisabeth shrugs slightly. "He has to learn, Graeme. Same as we all do." She pauses and looks at him. "He took a bullet for me. I don't know how to get through to him that it's the wrong thing to do. ALWAYS."
"I know," Graeme says, quietly, not so much smiling anymore. "He told me what happened. I might have snapped at him a bit when he did, but … I don't know either. I don't know how to get it through to him at all, not on this. Wish I did." He straightens, bouncing on his heels, arms folding across his chest, then unfolding, back into his pockets. The fidgeting more than anything betrays the teacher's unease, before he finally leans back again.
She doesn't have to see him to know about the fidgeting. Elisabeth smiles faintly. "What else?" she asks. Because it's a sure sign he wants to say something.
It is a pretty good sign. Graeme's behaviour is predictable. "The rest's just me feeling dumb about myself and the whole entire not being careful enough thing," Graeme admits, the slow drawl to his voice and then an equally slow shrug. "I know everyone does does things sometimes, but."
"We all feel dumb sometimes. Just… accept that it happened, try to be more aware, and keep going." Elisabeth's voice is weary. "I felt dumb when I passed the last information. I felt like I should have known it was false. I knew the possibility was high that it was a trap, but… I figured even if it was, the ends were worth the means." She pauses. "They weren't. We got nothing out of it. I should have kept my mouth shut." She shrugs a little. "If nothing else, I might have bought a few more weeks or months. But it's over and done with. And I have a job to finish before I finally stop." She forces a small smile. "We'll rest when we're through," she whispers.
A small smile eventually mirrors on Graeme's face, and he takes a step over to stand next to Liz, closer. "That we will," he says, quiet, his own steady commitment echoing in his voice, before briefly hugging her and resting his head on her shoulder. "That we will."
She rests her head on his, the faint smile at the corner of her mouth sad. I'll come to thee in the moonlight, Though Hell should bar the way… Elisabeth is pretty sure there is no end. But she'll burn that bridge when she gets there. "I've got a half-formed plan. It segues into what my son is up to, though." She pauses and says quietly. "I need to talk to Lene."
Graeme squeezes Liz's shoulders, reluctant to end the contact or anything, but eventually he does so, with a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Good," he murmurs, quietly. "You know where to find me, then." More often than not at the safehouse, but she knows how to find him outside of his visits to the safehouse as well. "If it's anything I can help with, let me know." That said, Graeme pulls away slowly, leaving Liz on the roof to look out across the city once more.