Participants:
| Scene Title | Wolf Problem |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A wolf problem is one of a few conversation topics when Cat looks in on Abby. |
| Date | February 7, 2010 |
Old Lucy's Back Room
Woe to the cops who have been set on watching Old Lucy's. Or good news for them because the owner won't let them starve or go thirsty or cold. No donuts, there's hot food, coffee in thermos and then the brunette is tromping back in and towards the back room with its television on mute but the channel set to food network, textbooks out and various equipment pulled out of her school bag. There's a handful of smaller screens over near the desk and shelving that counts as the office to this place, crates of bottled alcohol stored in to be brought out through the night. It's the usual state of being in the back room for an early afternoon.
Jacket shrugged off followed by scarf and hat leaving church dress and cardigan beneath, the door wedged open to make it easier to hear if she's needed, Abigail settles down with her pot of tea to start about to work that doesn't include alcohol. Because there's just one more week of school and a certification exam. The end is near.
It's a fairly short path from the front door to the passage into this back room, covered easily by the casually clad Cat. She leans against the doorway and lets her eyes wander over books and brunette, then the set and Food network being displayed, before returning them to the studying woman. "Abby," she says to announce her presence. Nothing else is said, conversation from that point left to Mademoiselle Beauchamp's discretion.
Up lifts lighter brown hair than Cat's and a smile is slow coming in recognition. "Hey Cat, come in. Grab a drink if you want it." A gesture to behind the panmnesiac and the offerings that the bar might provide. Sure she knows already what the woman will take if she wants it. "Just studying, last week of school. You're welcome to come help you want." She pulls her feet down from one of the seats across from her, tossing a glance to the security feeds by habit. "How's Helena? Still with you or has she taken off in her new found freedom?" There's an absence of a cast, though one leg below the knee is lighter than the other in her Mexican tan.
Booted feet sound on the floor as she moves, crossing to the stores of dark Irish beer and selecting a bottle of it from a partly emptied case, then Cat turns to face the studier. "Helena's taking on the political science path at Columbia," she relates, "and living at the Verb, top floor. There's still work to do, though hopefully along different pathways now. Been busy myself catching up on business enterprises, a large research project, and cryptic messages on websites."
The chair, with feet no longer in it, receives Cat's backside. "Grapevine says you've had some recent drama enter your life," she remarks quietly. Part of her, of course, is also still wondering if the wallpaper is gone and if Abby dismissed the staff.
"Just a bit of a wolf problem really. Most of the drama in my life had taken a severe downturn since God decided to let the world keep spinning as it should and Richard ate the bomb." A glance outside will show wallpaper still on and the only change in staff is the loss of the lone blonde. "Tanya's passing. That's about it. How are you since you got back?" She closes a book, giving her full attention to the other woman.
"I'm always good," Cat answers, whether she is or not. "Wolf problem… The Norse wolf that chases the sun and tries to eat her every day. In old Norse, the name also means treachery." Cat imbibes some of the dark brew, seeming nonchalant about the whole thing. Eyes move on to books covering emergency medical technology. "Sometimes I think it might be good to audit courses at Columbia myself and take up biochem. Could read all about it in books and get the most of it, but for a thing like that lab time is needed too."
"Audit courses?" More than a bit of confusion at the choice of words. "I don't know either what you mean by the Norse wolf. Skoll is it? Whatever Kozlow's name ended up being. History of foreign countries and the like have never really been my thing, Cat. I know that Kozlow was in my bar. Homeland Security has a copy of the tapes and probably the CIA now. They're watching the place in case he shows back up but I haven't had any dead bartenders show up again or really inappropriate notes left. And there's cops down at my Momma's and Dah's. You should expect that Director Parkman's gonna try and get in touch with you. It's landed in his lap even before I asked him."
"Interesting," Cat remarks dryly. "Skoll, yes. It's only been in the past year and change I read up on Norse mythology. It was valuable to have knowledge of." She takes another drink, mulling words over in her head before explaining a bit more. "Skoll was a wolf that chased the sun's chariot each day, trying to catch and eat the sun. Had a brother trying to catch and eat the moon, at Ragnarok they would finally pull that off. The name Skoll also means treachery."
Her head tilts after the elaboration is spoken, something Abby said causes her to backtrack. "Notes?"
"You'd already said the treachery part," she points out to Cat. "I've gotten a faceful of that from him, I know that." There's a wrinkle of her nose and a nod. "He left a note. An orchid on paper and Teo translated the Cyrillic for me. Just that he wants to get to know me from head to toe only in more lewd terms. It upset Teo something terrible Cat, he asked if it was a joke from Ivanov. Told him that Ivanov wouldn't do anything of that sort." Her pencil is picked up again, doodling on the pad of paper on the table. "Don't suppose he's reared his head around you or anyone else from Russia?"
"I've not seen him." Cat reports. "I think what he means, though, might be literal. He said something to me once while he had me pinned against a wall, seeming like he might try to kiss me. That he'd looked after Faina for years, and could protect me too if I let him. I can only imagine the cost she must've paid for that looking after, whether she chose to or not, before he became bored and discarded her."
Well that's just… gross. It leaves a bad taste in her mouth and Abigail just stares at Cat in the wake of learning what Kozlow said and did to her. "I hope they catch him" She murmurs. "And manage to keep him and toss him in a cell, but if they can't keep Yvette Volken in a cell, then the odds of keeping Kozlow" Another shake of her head and tapping of her pencil on the pad of paper.
Her eyes are dark, there's storminess in them. "I hope he attacks me, so I can defend myself, and solve the problem permanently," Cat mutters under her breath. Things are heard and recorded but not commented on. Yvette Volken free? How'd that happen? Shit.
She declines to dwell on these matters any further, moving to other topics. "One week to go," she picks up, "so the gap wasn't a hindrance, that's good to hear."
Abby glances down at her books with a nod. "Turning up with a letter of thanks from the President, sorta does wonders for making them let you pick off where you left off. And I've been cramming in extra classes so I can just get it done. So it's been every night instead of just three nights a week. I uhm, I'm gonna be dropping off resumes during this week when I'm not cramming in the hopes that someone will pick me up, so I can start working right off the bat, instead of waiting. We'll see. They say that you end up usually driving the ambulances first, and the people with actual paramedic training do all the lifesaving, but who knows. If not, I'm sure there's some big businesses somewhere who will hire someone on staff. Not like I really need it what with the bar but…"
There's a shrug of Abby's shoulders. "Then I can bide my year and then go back to night school and work on my paramedic training."
In her mind is the mildly amusing thought of Abby winding up partnered with Peter Petrelli, he having chosen to enter EMT work. It prompts a fleeting smile to course across her features. "You'll get there," Cat assures. One hand reaches for a book and takes it up, the contents being looked over in silence. Some of it she may well have seen years before when she herself gave emergency medical procedures some attention. "Lately I've been spending some time reading more about psychology, one famous practicer in particular."
There's no move made to keep Cat from taking the book, it's freely relinquished for her to peruse. "Why psychology, Cat?" She inquires, getting up to steal a bottle of warm rootbeer from a case in the corner, a glimpse at the security camera's and then back to the lawyer. "You know of any places other than the Verb that are … okay priced, for temporary living?"
"I was inspired to read into psychology when I got home and Helena told me a story," Cat shares as the bottle is lowered. "It's a thing I do, when a subject ties into larger things." What follows is a listing of places to take residence without overwhelming cost for most people.
"Are you looking for new lodgings?"
"Temporary ones. Someone suggested it, that it might be better, easier. Even though the security in this place is pretty good." Abigail furrows her brows, marking down a list of the various buildings. Upside was that right now, she wasn't paying rent. She outright owned the upstairs apartment. "I'll think about it. Right now it's whatever is easier for the folks who are tasked with watching the building."
She doesn't ask about the story Helena told Cat, odds are Abby already heard it when she got with the woman the last time over chinese. "Francois is alive, he made it. He visited down in Mexico but he's back up here. I picked him up from the airport yesterday. He's uhh, trying to figre out his place in the world now."
"Where is Francois?" Cat inquires, showing a degree of relief and surprise he made it out of the hole. "How he got clear must be quite the story," she relates. Quiet follows, she sitting back to listen if any such tale is forthcoming and consume more of the dark Irish brew.
"He's around, and how he got free is for him to tell, Cat. He hasn't divulged any of it to me. And I'm not about to prod him, but I thought it might be prudent in case you saw him in the neighborhood and worried about it being someone else." Her own tea is picked up to be nursed.
"Thank you," Cat nods in agreement to that point, just before eyes seem to unfocus with her facing a wall. "I was on board the helicopter, Veronica Sawyer and I were working the door to pull people on board when they were pulled up. Francois and Mr. Redbird were down the drill shaft, working on the bomb, while Hector Steel was guiding him by radio. The instructions may have been garbled, not able to be followed. We had radio interference, static. Time was short, seconds left, and it came through clearly then. This is Redbird. Implementing failsafe." She's solemn then, lapsing back to silence, with eyes still unfocused like she's watching it happen again. Her second viewing of a nuclear detonation, this one in person while the first was beamed into her mind twice through Peter's telepathy.
"I'd never thought it would come to that."
"Yeah, Liz told me. She kept me informed while I was down south. I knew about that part already." Hector Steel, she no clue who he was, probably one of many. "Pretty noble thing he did, Richard that is." last of her tea is finished off so that she can justify opening up the bottle of rootbeer, sleeve used to twist the cap. "Two apocalypses down, nameless more to come. God's not done throwing more tribulations at us, Cat, he never will be."
"Life is boring if it's easy," Cat murmurs as focus returns and she looks away from the wall. "No matter what happens, I'd never trade my life for being the politically advantageous wife of a CEO, Senator, or future President like Mother wanted. And definitely not for being a corporate drone lawyer sentenced to spend life in office buildings."
Attention goes back to the books, she seeming unintent on talking further of danger and loss.
"You wouldn't Cat, but there are others who would. Who to them it's their only life, it's what they were raised to. They don't have your ability, or Helena's or your blind convictions. I won't be the happy housewife that my momma wants me to be, just her daughter up in New York keeping secrets from her." One leg is brought up, crossed over the other. "I can't imagine that you'd be anything like what you just said you won't ever be. But our parents want for us good things, to reach for the stars and be the best that we can be, not realizing that their idea of best doesn't always match up with our own ideas of best."
"Parents." The word is spoken in another muted tone but not followed by another. Cat opts not to voice contempt for Mother's decisions; going back to work for Bob Bishop and the Company she has to know should cease to exist. To tie herself to Linderman. Her head shakes, she has to wonder if Rebel will see to making sure Mother doesn't win, to preventing the attempt at stealing another election she believes he'll try. If Hana Gitelman will wake up in time to help them, for that matter, or ever.
Abby is not a mind reader. She can't hear into Cat's thoughts like Kaylee could or even Matt Parkman. She's not privy to the inner workings of the Chesterfields and their familial issues.
"So…" Since she's not ever been able to deal with extended silence as evidenced by her and Deckard. Abigail glances over to Cat. "You just came over to inquire about Kozlow?"
"I came to steal a bottle of your stout, to see if you fired the whole staff over the wallpaper," Cat answers with a quiet chuckle, "not just about unpleasant business." Her seated posture shifts, relaxing slightly back into the chair. And the bottle is moving upward again.
"The wallpaper." Right. That. Abigail slips from her seat, heading over to one of the storage closets. WIth a twist of the doorknob and a leaning in, a roll is produced of said wallpaper and passed over to Cat. "People fornicating on my wall. It's better suited for Burlesque than for the bar. Everyone's still here, I haven't fired them yet but I'm not happy about it. It cost Brenda a pretty penny and I told her that I wasn't going to reimburse her for the cost of the wallpaper because it was not done while I was here to approve it." Which means that if she'd been here, it never would have been approved.
Her face displays a spreading smile, showing she finds the whole thing humorous, as the roll of wallpaper is caught. "I wanted to be here to see the look on your face when you discovered it, Abby," Cat admits. She makes a mental note to find Brenda later and slip her money to cover the costs without the Nun ever finding out.
"Was Liz again, she brought me downstairs to look when I got back." She's glad others find it humurous and the roll is promptly put away again. 'You haven't heard from Hana have you? She's doing better or still the same?"
"No change," Cat reports with expression shifting back to solemnity. "Her waking presence is sorely missed. Eventually, she'll wake. That woman's a survivor, too tough to stay as she is." The last of her bottle is drained and set down as Cat rises. "I should let you get back to your studies, Abby," she offers. "And I need to see some people about things. Make some arrangements."
"I'd say good luck with the last week of courses, but you don't need it. You've got brain to carry the load."
Maybe she does, maybe she doesn't. Abby's educational self esteem has never been a high thing. "Just one more week," she echoes. "Take care, Cat, keep an eye out for Kozlow or Yvette. Let me know if you see them, okay?"
"I will." Then Cat's out to the main portion of the bar and looking for Brenda to find out how much the wallpaper cost and make arrangements to pay what it cost her behind Abby's back. A good deed such as that must be rewarded.