Who Do You Think You Are Dealing With


christopher_icon.gif yana2_icon.gif


devon2_icon.gif yana_icon.gif

Scene Title Who Do You Think You Are Dealing With
Synopsis Yana stresses over a night of plotting and concern, having a night cap and a discussion with a friend, subsequent to dinner with Devon, which results in Yana showing him her fangs.
Date May 21

Saturday: 2:14 AM

Yana's Apartment


It's late, most of the apartment has gone dark, save for the mini-lab that Yana has folded out in her study. A desk lamp pours it's light down upon an organized set of papers, all penned in Yana's handwriting, noting various formulas and chemical compounds and equations. She had dressed for bed quite a long time ago, as she sits in the sheer, silk night gown of black, with a matching little robe, hanging open just enough to be subtly sensual, with no soul around to see it.

In black ink, on a notepad is a list of words, many of them striked through with a red pen: Killed, Attenuated, Subunit, Conjugate, Toxoid, DNA vaccination(which is marked off with a branch, leading to the name Dr. Price), Recombinant Vector, Dendritic cell. The strokes of the red marks indicate a possible sign of frustration when they were done. Almost ripping the paper with the pen that it was written with.

All-in-all, Yana looks tired. Like a student cramming for an exam, frustrated by the material, she places her forehead in the space between her thumb and her index finger, and rubs. "*sigh* Cillian.. why do you have to be so difficult?" She closes her eyes and sighs out through her nostrils, collecting herself before she intends to move on.

A small clank is heard as the China cup and saucer is placed on the desk by her side, complete with a steaming hot liquid with a pleasant aroma that catches Yana's attention. She looks up, seeing the hand of the tall man that place it there, into the face of Christopher who looks as stoic as ever.

"You look like you could use this." the mans baritone voice speaks to her respectfully, "I.. haven't seen you so stressed in a long time." He mentions, yet he does not inquire as to what. She will tell him when she desires. He is simply letting the woman know that he notice that her behavior is outside the norm.

"Thank you, Christopher." she pulls the slipped strap of her nightgown back up over her shoulder, "Something is going to happen soon, and this something is one thing that I cannot tolerate, yet I must if I am to achieve the conclusion to my plans." Yana looks worried, and perhaps a bit disgusted. "I'm going to fail." she tells him, and then finally she rises up from her seat, floating past the tall man, to slip into the darkness of the kitchen, where she opens the cabinet and removes a bottle of Gin, carrying it back over to her desk.

Christopher arches a brow as he looks at the woman, an expression of disbelief. "You? Fail? Forgive my assumptions, Doctor, but in all my time of knowing you, you are not the type to fail. You make plans within plans, and then plans outside of those plans. Your contingencies alone ensure you success, let alone your ability to think and react quickly on your feet."

She offers him a weary half smile, shaking her head, loosing her dark locks to fall about her shoulders, "Cillian is proving to be a bit of a struggle to control. I can certainly keep it on the line, and given the time, I could achieve mastery, though for now it is a hassle. And this plan of mine, to seize a bit more on the reins of this virus, I believe it will leave me.. Well we will just say that I will not be at my best." she uncaps the bottle off of the liquor and pours a bit into the cup of her tea. "With my ability, I should be able to preempt the mutation of the virus before it happens, and create a vaccine in time to have distributed, however.."

Christopher nods to her, "I believe I understand." He always did, even with very little information given to him by her. Christopher thinks much like Yana, in the aspect that they calculate nearly the same way. 5(x + 2) = 25, solve for x and the like.

Yana nods at his understanding, "They don't deserve the positions that they are in, Christopher. We are the ones with the power. We are the ones who have Evolved, and their oppression of us does not follow the natural order of things. And so.. culling their flock will give us the chance to turn the tables. But these sub-Humans," a term she arranged for non-Evolved, as obviously, Evolved are the next stage in human evolution. "They are so touchy about their meager lives. They cling to existence with every shred of resistance in their bodies, and for what? You're not going to evolve anytime soon. They should just accept their fate."

She says this to him, yet she is speaking directly to one who is non-Evolved. But Yana has never thought of Christopher as such, for all of his loyalty and dedication to her, and with all of her arrogance, she is confident that she will one day find a way to make him Evolved. Even if it is a very unlikely event, it doesn't stop her from believing this, and it keeps him believing in her. The man simply nods and listens to her well.

"However.. rather than let hysteria sweep over the world, bringing them to do something drastic out of desperation and anguish over their demise. By coming forth with first the possibility, and the results of their salvation, the dust will settle, and the death rate will be gradual instead severe, because there is "hope"." she lifts her fingers, making quotations.

She takes in a long drawn out breath through her nostrils and then sighs the same way, "And then.. before the threat of the virus is erradicated.. I'll fail. Fail in being able to continue predicting the virus' next mutation, allowing the virus to continue it's rapid mutation cycle, and become virulent once again. By that time, they'll be too weakened to do anything that could prove damaging to the Evolved population. We will be able to step forward, and take our rightful place." and if she is able to actually do utilize her power how she plans.

"If you survive…" Christopher adds, as if finishing her sentence for her. In which Yana nods her head, the two of them well aware of what that means for her. "Perhaps, Doctor…" he lets it hang there, knowing the woman will catch on to the end of his sentence.

"Don't worry about me, Christopher. Working all night will not be the death of me." she smiles, "I keep wanting to take a break, but I need to come up with something soon. I need to solidify this process, yet keep myself as the only catalyst that keeps it alive. And the difficulty of this virus isn't making that any easier. I'll go to bed soon, I promise." she reaches, patting the large man's hand. She pauses, and looks at him closely, with a great deal of scrutiny in her eyes, "Christopher.." she squints, her eyes taking on a green glow in the irises. "Oh, you've contracted the virus. I had forgotten to ensure you were alright for the past few days. Here.. let me fix this."

Yana keeps her hand touching his, the glow of her eyes dying down as she activates her power to control the virus within his body. Reprogramming it to self destruct is simple enough for her, yet with her current mental state, it is a bit of a drain which shows as she lightly swoons where she stands. She has been using her ability a lot lately.

Christopher takes her by the arms, and helps her to settle back into her seat when she releases his hand, Yana's hand rising to rest against her forehead while she sighs. "Thank you, Christopher." she says, turning and scooting to go back to her papers upon the desk.

"Doctor, if you believe that this plan is the best course of action, then I believe that you can indeed and will survive it. No doubt in my mind." Christopher shakes his head.

Yana does not look up from her work, she focuses on the task she has before her, and simply offers an almost dismissive, "Thank you, Christopher."

"Doctor." the man nods his head respectfully, taking his leave, wandering to across the way to his room, leaving Yana to her own devices.

The widow is weary. And it will only get worse from here.

Sunday Evening

Fancy Italian Restaurant

The second call is always the hardest. Though Devon had sent another gift a couple of days before, simplistic but meaningful nonetheless in the form of a single rose and box of extravagant chocolates, actually calling the woman was more difficult. The weight of matters is a heavy load to bear, but his hesitation shouldn't be passed off as anything other than the nervousness of a boy.

The call, when it finally came, was actually made the evening before, appropriately timed to fall in the quiet hours that come between supper and bed. The invitation was made for dinner out, the following evening, at an upscale Italian place near Manhattan's western end.

As with the first encounter, Devon has already arrived and stands outside waiting. Tonight he's clad in full suit and tie of black, contrasted by a crisp white shirt. With fidgeting hands, he checks his tie, snugging the knot at his throat and smoothing the length down his chest, then drags fingers through his hair though it does little to right the perpetually messy look. His eyes eyes watch the comings and goings of vehicles, flicking up at every rumbling of engine in anticipation of Yana's arrival.

Surprisingly out of character for her, the rumble of that engine doesn't come. Nor does her limo, at least not in front of the arranged meeting place in which Devon is waiting. Instead, from around the corner, Yana steps, walking with the click of her expensive heels, and the elegance of her black pencil dress which hugs across her hips and hangs beautifully close to her skin, reaching just below her knees. A black silk sash looped once around her neck, evenly distributed on either side of her body to wrap once around her arms before draping toward the ground before they reach her hands.

She looks like what you would see in those horror movies, the sultry vampiress slipping around the corner to blend in just after viciously feeding in the alley not but behind the very building she is going to. She wears a rather calm expression, her face nearly wiped clean of any type of emotion as she steps up to the young man. When she does reach him however, she finally offers him a smile. "Devon. How nice you look this evening. And prompt as usual.." There's… something in her voice. It isn't something that is normally like her, and it can't really be deciphered at this very moment. But there is something going on with Dr. Blite. She could be the cat that killed the canary or even the assassin with the knife held behind her back. Probably not but it is something…

If he hadn't been looking in her general direction, Devon might have missed her until she'd reached his side. As it is, he watches Yana's approach, eyes unmistakably drawn over her form and dress. A twitch of a grin quirks one corner of his mouth, kept innocent enough, cautiously admiring and not leering. His eyes tick back up in time to catch her expression before it fades to a smile, giving slight pause and causing his heart to miss a beat.

"You're looking as beautiful as ever," the young man responds, a slight crack in his voice inferring the nervousness. A soft clearing of his throat cover the sudden spike of anxiousness over her demeanor, he's not seen her in a mood as she's appearing now, though he offers an arm to her to escort her into the restaurant. "How… was your weekend, Doctor Blite?"

Before, there would have been a slight twitch from her, a subtle 'perking' as she picked up on the little signs that he was nervous, in which she would then set into calculation as to why, finally initiating a way to squeeze the information from him. Yet there are no indications as to her attention to them this time. But it is unlike her not to pay attention. Or perhaps she has, and she simply is dead set on a goal that the other details are of no significance. "Thank you, Devon." she remarks, and there is almost a void in her voice. An unrehearsed, yet, programmed response in being proper. She even reaches out to take his arm with not a single smile upon her lips, her eyes a little.. distant.

"Busy." she remarks simply, initially not bringing forth any more information than that. "I trust that everything is going well with you?"

"Yes, ma'am." Devon's response, not so automatic or rehearsed, but polite and simple. And a lie, though his tone is strained enough with acting the role of courter and not missing a step, striving to impress with skills meant for high society. His eyes slant toward her, watching her expression and reaction, or lack of reaction, to the outside world without comment. It's troubling, but something to make note of rather than address right now.

Guiding her into the restaurant, Devon again takes the lead. Gentlemanly, he requests a table for two, something private and tucked away from the majority of fellow diners. The wait won't be too long, a Sunday doesn't usually see long waits for tables. With work on Monday and curfew to contend with. Devon glances at Yana, brows knitting together though his brows knit slightly. "I hope this place is alright. I… wasn't sure if it would be acceptable."

She doesn't even investigate that. She doesn't 'sniff' him for any kind of falsehood or act that she might be able to exploit. For the looks of things, Yana just wants to get to their destination. Perhaps there is something waiting there for the teen, or perhaps she is just hungry. The woman is unpredictable like that, and very difficult to read. When and where will she strike, if she will strike at all.

She also doesn't even acknowledge the presence of anyone else for the most part. Not the host, nor the others waiting around. The woman is stone right now. Not cold or icy, but monolithic in a way. Still just as unsettling.

"It's fine, Devon. I'm sure that you wouldn't bring me to a place if you weren't certain that it checked out first. I have faith in you in that aspect." she tells him, affording him a bit of a glance.

It should be calming, the trust for his attention to detail. But it niggles in the back of Devon's mind, along with her outwardly distant nature. His lips part in attempt of more small talk, but the words die, or are abandoned entirely, silence claiming until the host calls him to be seated.

Blessedly it isn't a long wait. How awkward to stand there, looking closer to a chauffeur or nephew attending a well dressed woman. His head tips in a nod to the host and follows with an arm to lead Yana. Their table is quaint and set against a wall not quite in a corner, designed for two and lacking none of the decor. As before, he draws a chair out for Yana before seating himself. Menus are laid out and water fetched, leaving the young man press his hands to the table's edge lest he begin fidgeting again.

And the silence seems to suite her just fine. Hanging in the awkward quite without seeming rude, yet she is indeed distant. It's almost like a part of her just isn't there in this time and space. And perhaps she is searching to find it. It also doesn't feel like this is some psychological tactic to push Devon off of his own feet. Whatever is wrong with her is natural, not constructed.

She goes through the motions of being escorted to the table, and tucked into her seat all nice and proper as she was instructed all through her life to do. Her attention seems to return a great deal more, once they are seated, and she takes notice of him looking a bit nervous with her. "I'm making you nervous, aren't I?" she questions, "I apologize, I'm just.."

"It's fine," Devon interjects, his head giving a minute shake. "I'm… It's just…" His mind races to grasp a thought, an excuse for his anxiety. "You're just really pretty tonight," he covers, working in a faint, one-sided grin. "And, I just… I hope I'm filling the role you're looking for. Acting the gentleman so you're… student gets other ideas." A beat follows, his hands twitch toward his tie then clasp in his lap. "I apologize, if I'm being too forward."

His eyes fall to his menu and then he nods toward hers. "Please, pick anything you'd like," Devon advises. "Anything. I… I chose this place, it seemed the appropriate setting since it's quiet. But I would like you to choose whatever you desire, including wine, to mark an agreement between us."

She doesn't catch it, or she just lets it go. One of the two. His excuse isn't something Yana would normally take for face value. It is too superficial. Yet, she doesn't move in to call him on it, simply letting him indulge himself with the satisfaction his statement brings him. "No need to apologize, you're doing a wonderful job. The problem is.." Yana pauses and for once, isn't sure she knows how to continue, or perhaps she is simply playing the part. However, there does seem to be something wrong. "I'm having second thoughts.." she knits her brows together, "About everything." There is the hitch right there, her reason for being so distant. But.. why?

"This.. us here putting up a front, the vaccine.." she looks up at him, and somehow, she just isn't sitting as high and proud as she usually does, "I'm languishing, to tell you the truth. My ability may just be to see, but it takes great force of will to be able to gain the details that I desire. And furthermore, it is even more difficult to view something as small and complex as a virion particle." It is only a half truth. Viewing doesn't tire her out, it's altering them that takes the most concentration for her. But that is an aspect of her power that is only known to a few.

She looks at him levelly. "I'm not sure if you understand just what it will mean once I start to use my ability to cure this epidemic. I'll never be able to stop. I'll have to constantly use my ability to view the next strain immediately after creating a vaccine for the first. Eradicating the virus as a whole will be a long process, and it'll ensure that I practically live in the lab to keep it from escalating. I'm.. not confident if I have the constitution to keep it up. I can't say that for sure but.. there is the possibility that I could give out at some point, burn out like a light bulb. Without me to keep calculating the next mutation, it'll just slip right back into where it is now."

Looking a bit distant again, she moistens her lips. "I'm no hero, Devon. I'm afraid.. and I don't know if I am willing to risk sacrificing myself to save everyone, if it will just end up back the same way it was before. I'm just not that person." she closes her eyes a moment and turns her glance to look off to the side somewhere, at another table. "I'm just having doubts is all. A little stressed and bothered in admitting that I'm not perfect.."

Beneath the table, Devon's hands tightening on each other, eyes eyes remaining focused on the woman seated across from him as she speaks. His pulse picks up slightly, likely undetected, and cold heat creeps down his spine as her words register. All those people dying of a virus that she can see and develop a vaccine for, and she's having second thoughts? He swallows against a lump in his throat, chin lifting slightly to accommodate the action.

"Doctor Blite," Devon begins smoothly, as though nothing were wrong. He inhales against the pang of foreboding, and exhales, drawing out a smile that hides his apprehensions. "Yana. No one's asking you to be a hero." Though just a week before she was so confident of her abilities, he can't help but fear she's determined he's consulted others on her proposal. Or decided it isn't worth her time. "Please, people are going to die. I'll get you into Studio K, or any other network. No pun intended, but we can make a viral posting on Youtube, too. If you do this, if… if you show your ability works to help people, it could change the theme the non-evolved have labeled us with."

"But what I am saying you is.." she lifts her eyes to meet his, looking at him pointedly, "I could die. In the middle of this long, grueling process, I could simply fizzle out from just how much I have to use my ability for this virus. It's much more than I expected. And then when I do fizzle.. what then? I won't have accomplished anything. It'll go right back to where it started, and continue it's course. And I'll have died in vain." She makes it sound so definite. "I'm not ready to sacrifice myself for nothing. I'm afraid Devon. The thought of coming to that end terrifies me." she shakes her head,

"I've been doing a lot of thinking. About these non-Evo terrorists? Ones who have it out for us? Well.. there has to be someone on the other side of the scale. Evos doing much the same to non-Evos. If I come forward with the hope of curing something that seems to be doing what they wish to accomplish. Then.. there is the possibility that they will come after me to stop it." she shakes her head, "It's just all so.. I don't know. I just need time to think. I thought maybe I was ready, but there are just so many things that are giving me doubts right now." These are all valid reasons, to be sure. But Dr. Blite is unpredictable at best. She could very well be afraid as she says, or maybe it is something else. Either way, she seems concerned and possibly even confused.

"We don't have time." Devon states coldly. It's been a week and some where things seem to be moving too fast, spiraling out of control. Seeing first hand his boss in the throes of illness, the implications and realization of how dangerous a game he's found himself in, it's a lot to make him both afraid and volatile. "People, innocent people are going to die. You, Yana, said you could create this vaccine, that it wouldn't be any problem to do it. A matter of hours or days to come up with a cure and then sitting around for the so-called appropriate time to come out with it."

The tension in his hands increases, forearms and shoulders tensing in restraint. It's all Devon can do to remain sitting when every fiber is telling him to stand and leave. "If you have the ability to create a vaccine, then it's your duty to make it." He pauses, eyes narrowing, hardening in their coldness, steeling his resolve. "You have a choice," he resumes quietly, "you can begin work now, start making that vaccine and I will make sure you get every credit for your efforts. Or I can go now and begin spreading the word that I know the woman who can cure the virus, and we'll see just how long you last when the light is pointed at you before you're ready."

Perhaps she had been afraid, before with all of her worries and concerns in this venture, or perhaps not. But she seemed to reflect just what she was conveying with her words. "I was hasty. It was a little bit of arrogance. I didn't think of all the factors at the time. But now—" And then there is a hesitation.. No, a complete pause. A grinding halt of the wheels as her expression moves from afraid, to surprised, and then finally, it shifts to something a bit more.. serious at his words.

For moments she doesn't say anything, but it is clear that Yana does not like the ultimatum. Not the choice itself, but the fact that he did it. "Skills, Devon. I have the skills to cure the virus. My ability is simply a tool I need in order to view and apply what I have learned in my academic career." Again she stares at him for a time, after that correction. "So.. you've resorted to threats?" He probably doesn't realize what happened to the last person that threatened her. No. He wouldn't. The man is dead. "Ive expressed to you my concerns, my fears in coming forth about this, and the possibility that I might not be able to solve the problem, as well as the possibility that I could die if I do, and you. Threaten. Me?" Her words grow a bit firm, hard in the end as she breaks the sentence up.

After saying this, Yana lets it go, "Well, I think we should call it an evening. Since you have no regard for my concerns, and well being. I think that I should simply go elsewhere and reorganize a few things. Maybe even reconsider.." she squints her eyes, "You.. enjoy your dinner, Devon. And do be careful with who you come into contact with? You could cause them to get sick." What? Does.. is she saying that he is a carrier?! Did she look into him and see? She did say that she could tell by looking. She could be bluffing too. It could be difficult to identify a carrier.

As she gets to her feet and starts to move toward the door, she pauses, "Oh, and before you go making such threats to someone who severely unappreciates them, I suggest that you think about your ultimatum before you deliver it. The word of a young boy, barely out of high school, verses the word of a slightly renowned scientist? Sure, I've developed vaccines for difficult diseases in my career, but that could be the exact reason you're pointing at me as the savior from the H5N10. Youthful hopes that I could come up with a solution, and perhaps trying to further your career in your field. Your word against mine. As it stands, it is all just speculation on your part. I have proof.. documentation that I and another scientist have been researching a cure for this virus, which I can present at any time as evidence to discredit your.. accusations." Yana can be just as cold and stern when she feels insulted, or slighted.

"I am also a very, very patient person. Consider who you're playing hardball with." she locks her eyes onto him, "If I were you, I'd come to me tomorrow, with a proper apology, like a proper gentleman, and talk about this without the attitude, and without the threats. For now… have a good evening." she states and moves to head for the door.

While not regretting the words he'd spoken, Devon does recall the warnings against haste. He watches Yana, still with that cold calm, meeting her gaze evenly. Pride forces him to keep up the pokerface, requires he sit silently through her reiteration of her concerns and further refutes to his ultimatum. His jaw sets stubbornly at one point, before he manages to quell his own rise in temper and turn it to berating himself, albeit briefly.

The young man doesn't move when Yana does, save to stand when she departs the table. His eyes follow as she turns for the door, mixing a touch of guilt into his countenance once anger and frustration is under control. A sigh escapes him, partially fueled by the verbal lashing he'd just received, but Devon doesn't tarry long enough to let her leave alone. Hesitating just long enough to drop several twenties onto the table, he hurries after. "Doctor Blite," he calls, tension still in his tone. Too hasty by far, when did he start losing control? "Wait, please wait."

Short of begging, Devon extends a hand to push the door open for her. There's no move made to stay her retreat, his hands are kept to himself though his eyes follow her. "I don't… My boss is dying because of that virus," he explains, "I've seen what it's doing to her." Some of the worry for that, though he's not sure Kristen Reynolds would return the effort if roles were reversed, shows through. He has grace enough to look ashamed, even if he doesn't feel that way entirely. "They're saying the chances of survival are next to zero. Good people are going to die. I could care less about my career and I am worried about your well being. But this… it's…"

Trailing off, the teenager just shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he states quietly. It's an honest apology, spoken for his actions this evening and in general, for offenses he might have committed not even relating to Yana. Once she's seen through the door, he moves the opposite direction, one hand tearing his tie loose and the other going into his pants pocket.

It went a little differently than Yana had expected it to go, yet she is quick on her feet, and simply weaves the web another direction. Her little tiff with Devon having given her a bit of a second wind from her previous weary state. She certainly isn't stopping, yet she doesn't stop him from getting the door for her, or saying his peace. The faltering in his voice when he talks about someone he cares for contracting the virus. She is reminded of her disappointment in Magnes. This thing they seem to possess.. this bleeding heart that rattles these people to reach out to others. Utter weakness. They don't have what it takes.

No matter how deep you cut, You'll never reach my heart, for it is no longer there.

Frankly, Yana could care less about the good people dying, so long as the ones that aren't good fall. Though this is something that she has expressed to only one person, and if this is going to work, Yana has to pretend she still has a soul. "I'll.. give it some thought tonight, and then I'll go about doing it.. the right way. In a way that will actually work out for me, and the rest of the world. So that my efforts are not in vain, and I am not making an ultimate sacrifice for nothing. It has been a while since the virus mutated last. If I develop a vaccine now, it may or may not work on those currently infected. I may have to wait until the next mutation, but… I'll try." she tells him. It is all she can do. Or all she is going to do. The woman letting him break away and go on his way, as she goes on hers. Next phase.. complete.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License