Participants:
| Scene Title | Who's Got The Button? |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Incriminating evidence is found. It's not mine. |
| Date | October 3, 2009 |
Old Lucy's: Upstairs
Though one might remember when a certain fiery woman lived here… Now the living area above Old Lucy's has changed hands. The open living room and kitchen are homey, a commingling of two people's tastes. The leather couch sits kitty corner to a one of red suede and a bit smaller. A large bird cage for it's budgie inhabitant takes up it's own corner beside dark paneled walls. Bookshelves with literary pieces of a variety both academic and not take up another small section.
The kitchen is large, with a rolling wood and black marble island to give more counter space to work on. Pots and pans hang from the roof and track lighting keeps it not gloomy. A proper oak dining table has been set up with matching chairs instead of the 70's castoff that the residents have been known to own and a bowl of fresh fruit sits in the center.
Down a hall lay's multiple doors. A master bedroom occupied by the oldest resident and occasionally have a pervading smell of whiskey and smoke coming from it when the door is open. A second door with a cross above it, a third with no marking that is occupied by the third resident of the premises. Two other doors lead to a linen closet and bathroom respectively. A black cat with a red velvet collar and a little swarovski charm dangling from it can be found meandering at will.
It's late when Joseph returns to the upstairs flat above Old Lucy's, though not quite late enough to be pushing curfew or tempting fate. His dog greets him at the door, Alicia all pink tongue and waggy tail and bright eyes, sniffing the scent of water and concrete from her owner's hands. The Manhattan underground, where he's spent the most part of his day, smells only of those two qualities. It's not entirely unpleasant.
"Anyone home?" is called out, not obtrusively, respect shown for anyone attempting to catch an early night in their rooms when his voice really only travels from living space through to kitchen. The pastor himself seems to be in better spirits than he has been, alert and less wandering. Getting out and about does that. Among other things.
Leonard has been broody. But trying not to inflict his temper on anyone in particular. This involves a lot of sulking in his room, reading, sleeping, cuddling with Teo when Teo consents to come home. At the moment, he's watching The Empire Strikes Back for what must be the millionth time.
Abigail wanders out from the hallway and likely from the bathroom if damp hair, flannel bottoms and a tank top are any indicator much less the toothbrush that's going back and forth in her mouth leaving trails of white foam at the corner of her mouth. "Evening Joseph" Once the orange and white implement is removed from her mouth. "There's casserole in the oven, and some pie in the fridge if you're hungry." Gesturing with the toothbrush. "Was about to sit down with leonard. He says this is a movie I have to watch something about greatest american scifi ever made"
"I could eat." Which is a better indication from the bird-like diet Joseph has been pecking at through the week, nudging Alicia aside as he straightens his back, waves a hand towards Leo where he's stationed in front of the television, a mildly studious look crossing over the younger man. He sets about shrugging off his jacket, hooking it up by the door. "I'll take my dinner'n the kitchen and turn in early, I think." Despite this, Joseph also spares a head tilt towards Leo, a look at Abby as if to ask: what's up with him?
"There's popcorn," Leo says, bluntly, though he makes it sound like a social disease. He's got his hands laced over his belly, his feet stuck out before him. He's scowling at Luke being dumb enough to ride around on a kangaroo-goat all by himself in the middle of ablizzard. Stupid Jedi.
There's a slight shrug of the red heads shoulder to the look from Joseph. She hasn't been able to get it out of Leonard since she's been home. He's in a mood, has been in a mood and all she's been able to do is make sure there's food for him and to listen if he need sot start talking. "Maybe issues with Teo" murmured quietly to Joseph as she nears to check the door behind him. Habitual and makes her feel safer. Good luck to anyone trying to break in. "But he's right, there's popcorn. I'll be back out in a second, get your food heated for you. Alicia should be hungry too" She wheels around, bare feet shuffling on the floor to head back into the hallway, down it and towards the bathroom.
Joseph starts to speak, although whatever it was falls distracted as his gaze catches on the marks of tattoos obvious on her back. Not as visibly shocking as the bright blue hair she'd sported once, but nearing it, enough to bring him pause for the time it takes for her to head out. Alrighty then. He takes a few steps for the kitchen, though meanders closer to Leo. "How're you holdin' up?" is asked just over the drone of the television, flashy lights of aliens and space priests and things Joseph has no real handle of going ignored.
Leonard clicks the movie to pause, attempts to put on a pleasant face. "Okay. Might ask the same of you, padre," he says, bluntly, some of his usual good nature returning. He cocks an inky brow at Joe, curiously.
The pause of the TV gets a sheepish glance from Joseph, vaguely apologetic though it never gets vocalised. "I'm doing fine," he says, and it certainly seems genuine. "Squared away a few things today - might even have found a place to go once I'm ready to free up the extra room here." But this isn't about ~me~, says the raise eyebrow'd look from the pastor.
"Well, you got no shortage of time," Leo says, a little ungraciously. "We like having you here." He heaves himself up, presumably in search of a coke.
"Whats this place you found?!" It's yelled from the bathroom, as Abby catches snippets during her oral care routine. "Because you're sure happy. I mean, not that it's not good that you are, just, you know. Curiosity and that cat and all that!"
Leo is going that way, Abby is over there, and so Joseph lingers somewhere in the middle of the livingspace, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, gaze browsing the room and resting where a coat has been discarded over the back of a chair. "Dunno about happy, but I guess— it's a safehouse. Sorta, near Midtown. They could use the help and it'd be nice to be useful. Not that I don't like doin' the dishes here or anythin'."
Leonard nods, as he wanders in to the kitchen. He doesn't pry further, doesn't offer much of anything. "Abby, you got some advil in there?"
"Ferryman stuff. Good. You need to keep busy. It helps immensely, to stay busy after something like…" You know, what happened. "And it's you who's doing the dishes? I thought it was Leo. You're supposed to relax and just… be, just let yourself be while you're here."
Something like… One day maybe people won't dance around it. Probably around the same time Joseph stops dancing around it. He scuffs his heel against the carpet. "I got a mom at home who'd hit me upside the head if I stayed at someone's place and didn't lift a finger. Don't worry about it, Abigail. Pretend doin' dishes is therapeutic."
"I'm not bloated or retaining water," Leo says, completely deadpan. "But thank you." There's the sound of him rummaging in the fridge for a soda.
"Fine fine" Abigail gives in. Twist her rubber arm, if it'll make her houseguest feel better. "But my momma'd be me up the head for letting the houseguest do that. so we'll jsut ignore our momma's and just go about how we've been going about it" She's in need of a elastic and she makes her way to her jacket hanging up to grab one of many that's always hanging in a pocket somwhere. Some people carry change, she carries hair elastics. Around her wrist, around her hairbrush, in her purse, pockets. You name it.
IT's while she's fishing with one hand that jackets got jostled and Abigail yelps as she's pricked by something, dipping her hand into the wrong pocket. "What in heavens name…" The braid is let go and she eyes her wounded finger while her other hand pulls out a syringe with the dregs of glowing blue. The cap coming off at some point.
"What.. is this…"
"You'll just have to bear it." Battle of niceness. Only Southerners. At the yelp, Joseph frowns and decides not to immediately pursue dinner, making steps on over towards the redhead, stance casual as he looks more towards her than what's in her hands. "Somethin' wrong?" is asked, uncertain, before that look dips down towards the object in her hands, that look immediately snapping towards the source.
Any sound of distress out of Abby has Leo coming at a run. No pretense of coolness, there. He's right behind Joseph, brushing past him, to come to her defense. Only he stops short and glowers at what she's holding. "What is that?" he demands, each syllable bitten off short.
"What do you think it is" Abigail's holding the near empty syringe like it's a poisonous snake. "I got stabbed with it, it was in the pocket of the jacket, I was going for a elastic… Lord. It's Refrain" Nothing else that she knows of is like it. She think. "I think. Maybe, I don't know. god damnit, I was stupid. where the hell did this come from" She's looking at Leo. "This isn't yours is it? I didn't just stab myself with drug juice and god knows what is now in me…" SHe's not hysterical but she's certainly not happy.
Joseph is playing mute, currently, flash frozen into standing useless in the middle of the room as Leo goes brushing past and Abby lets loose her litany of confusion and general unhappiness and it all kind of sounds like yaddayadda to the pastor who blinks from needle to the abandoned jacket. Not his. Leo likely has a quicker reply than Joseph could summon.
Leonard makes an odd, aggrieved noise. More like something you'd expect out of Alicia. "It's not mine," he says, turning to eye Joseph, accusingly….and with no little curiosity. "You got an explanation, reverend?"
No. Couldn't be Josephs. Pastor wouldn't do something like this. That'd be like.. that'd be like Abigail having se- Okay, wrong thing to compare it to. But while Leo is eyeballing Joe, Abigail and her furrowed brows of doom is looking back towards the mess of jackets and fishing out the one that she pulled the syring from. "WHo's jacket is this?"
Even as the words are leaving her mouth, she knows, she thinks she knows.
"It ain't mine." The truth has Joseph snapping to the present with a start, looking from Leo to Abby. The words are honest and honesty has its own calming effect, a solace, as he brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as his gaze goes back to lingering on the syringe. "The jacket, that is, it ain't one of mine. Deckard hasn't been back since he first came by, has he? Oh— heck, are you bleeding, Abby?"
There's another of those sounds from Leo. More perceptibly now a growl. He just shakes his head in mute disapproval, dark eyes narrowed.
"Yeah, yeah, but it's just a little. Leo, this is Teo's jacket" She tosses the syringe on the floor letting it lcink and clank to the floor before sticking her injured finger in her mouth and looking to the two other men.
Woah hey his dog walks this ground. Joseph is quick to dart in and steal up the syringe, picking it up delicately. "I'll get rid of this," is muttered to them both, though he does have to pause when a name is offered, standing still and throwing a look of consternation at Abby.
"He's not Evolved," Leo says, fiercely. "Why would he have that?"
"Has he been tested? Because last I knew he had something of an ability. "And it sure isn't mine because I kick out any dealer I catch in the bar who's even looking like they're carring this or other stuff" The moment Joseph picks it up, Abby's feeling guilty that she threw it on the floor. Her finger's examined and the jacket hung back up where it was so that Leo can look at it if he wants while she starts heading for the bag in the corner of the room that carries her training gear. Be a rubbing alcohol pad in there to clean her finger.
"It's surely not Josephs. He'd not do something like that, nor would he hide it in someone else's jacket"
Hey time to get rid of the needle! Somewhere in the middle of Abby's last statement, Joseph turns at a clip and heads for the kitchen, needle in handle. He doesn't stay quiet, however, tossing a comment over his shoulder; "Maybe y'all should ask 'im," before he successfully makes his retreat around the corner, onto kitchen lino and tile.
Leonard just ….sort of sags, really. "I will," he says.
Better the amour of the man, than the former roommate and friend of him. "Leo will" Abby Echoes, parking her ass on the floor and opening her duffel bag, searching and plucking out what she needs and wants. She's not happy, unthrilled. "Leo, if it's his, if he wants to do it, then he can do it somewhere else, I don't want him bringing that into our home"
Pawing through the cupboards is turning up useless for anything worthy of disposing something sharp, Joseph at a kneel before he rests his forehead against the hand at the edge of the kitchen counter, breathing out a sigh as if it were a prayer for patience as Abby's words drift in through the kitchen.
Really, really great. He emerges a few seconds later, headed for the jacket to root around for the needle cap in the pockets. He doesn't contribute to the conversation as he does so, focused on his work, motions casual.
"Teo doesn't get to do it," he states to Abby, firmly. And then he's heading into the kitchen, bare feet scuffing, in search of omething stronger than a coke.
Mood killer, all around. Teeth tear at the package and pull the strong smelling square of antiseptic and rub down her finger, smearing drops of red and obliterating it. "I have a container here Joseph. Sharps. For when I practice. You can put it in here, and.." and something. She's too upset to think clearly. Someone brought drugs into her house.
"It might be Flints"
She'll give Leo that. He did cocaine, what might stop him from doing this, and he was hugging that briefcase pretty damn tight.
All things considered, Joseph can't completely deny that the thought hadn't crossed his mind. But four. He'd gotten four. He'd given him, enough for four. Of course, doesn't mean much. But their conversations— "I don't think it's Flint's," he feels moved, duty-bound, to contribute, despite himself. "He don't like the sound of this thing anymore than you do, Abby. Ask Teo," a glance from Leo, back to Abby, "go from there."
There's a beer in there - right. There it is. Leo wants his turn with drugs, too, and the chemical of choice tonight is ethanol. Brewed in America. Badly. He downs the beer with unwonted speed, drops the empty bottle into the trash, slumps on a kitchen chair.
"We'll ask Teo. Maybe it belongs to someone else and he put it in his pocket because he had nothing else he could do with it." Ziiiip goes her duffel and she pushes up from the floor, the prick of her finger a distasteful memory now. Trying to find now, a way back to where she'd been before she'd gone looking for a hair elastic. "Come on Pastor, lets get you fed and I can head to bed early too. I can watch people in space tomorrow"
Joseph looks towards where Leo's disappeared towards beer, sympathy in a glance, before he nods towards the female third of this Southern (former-)Baptist triumvirate. With a 'ladies' first' gesture, Joseph moves to follow Abigail towards food, and hopefully easier topics of conversation.