Ya Really Are Up Tight Darlin


abby_icon.gif lola_icon.gif

Scene Title Ya Really Are Up Tight Darlin
Synopsis Lola pickpockets someone that she maybe shouldn't have done that too, especially after she looks IN the wallet. But Abigail catches up and they have a 'chat' at which, in the end, Lola steals her cross and Abigail is left wondering about what kind of people Linderman hires.
Date July 29, 2009

Tourist Trap in New Orleans

Nawlins folks often whine about the tourist season. As do people in New York, Los Angeles, Paris, so on and so forth. People in off-fashions walking around with cameras, stopping in the middle of streets to bend over maps as though work and life didn't still have to go on around them.

But tourist season is very profitable for some, like Lola Mayeux.

It's easy to look like one. She pulled her hair up, put on two tank-tops (because layering is in, when you're not from a sweaty armpit of a city), a 'granola' skirt and flip flops. She carries no bag, and wears sunglasses - and she blends in perfectly, looking around for a goofy mark to hit.

It's not a goofy mark per se but it's a mark none the less that falls into Lola's view. Abigail had separated from Victor. Something about men. Beignette's. To full. Which left the pony tailed blonde standing on the sidewalk. She's got layered T's going but a cotton skirt as well. She's from this sweaty end of the country but has thin t-shirts as opposed to regular ones on. She browses a rack of postcards while victor is deep in the bowels of some building nearby.

And it's all too easy for Lola to walk by, slipping her hand in and out of the bag, coming up with the woman's wallet and tucking it into the back waistband of her skirt, pulling her shirt down over it in one fluid motion. No one even so much as notices - but then, they rarely do.

Still, an easy lift isn't much fun for Lola, and she's in it all for the fun. She lefts her 'Jimminy Cricket' behind years ago, before she even got to prison. And what's the fun in this? So Lola walks away slowly, turning down an alley about two buildings away. She pauses, looking back at Abby, trying to catch her eye, offer her a wink, and flash her a little wave - with her wallet clutched between the thief's fingers.

She didn't notice, maybe because Lola is not like some NY pickpocket where they bump into you and pass it off to someone else. It's sheer luck that Abigail glances up.

Her blue eyes widen at the confusing picture of someone else, holding her blue leather wallet. The other Louisianan woman flips open her messenger and.. yes, that is her wallet in another persons hand. Abigail takes the bait, cursing that Victor isn't here. Where's your speedster boyfriend when you need him! So she takes off instead, running towards the alley in the throng of people to hopefully catch up with Lola. "Hey! That's my wallet!" It's a down home accent it seems, that belongs to the woman speedily coming towards Lola.

Lola isn't going to wait for her per say, but if she can get away at least she'll feel like she earned this stuff. Not that she'll do much with it, she tends to take the cash and toss the rest in the dumpster for some crazy bum to pick up. See, Linderman, this is what happens when you don't give your pets something to do to keep them occupied. They start gnawing on the furniture.

So Lola takes off too, flip flops clapping against the dirty ground, her playful giggle echoing between the tight walls.

Abigails not in flip flops, but some simple Keds. She's in hot pursuit of the petty thief, a determined look on her face to catch up with her. She needs her ID's dammit, or she can't get on the plane. She doesn't care about credit cards and such, but registration cards and ID's, they're a bitch to re-get. Usually cost money too. So she rounds the corner, not stopping, trying to push as much as she can into taking on Lola.

Not like she doesn't have experience. When dealing with Phoenix and Vanguard and all the other factions up in MY, one learns to run.
Lola already had quite a head start, and she was already on the other side of the ally by the time she got the wallet open. Doing that, it seems, was all she needed, because as Abigail comes running along, she'll spy Lola holding up the wall at the mouth of the alleyway. The wallet is in one hand, a white card is in the other, being passed expertly between her fingers.

"Aincha a fast little thing," Lola drawls, a mischievous grin on her lips.

"You have to be fast where I live. If your not, you get killed. Can I have my wallet please" The card being passed back and forth gives her a moment distraction as she comes to a halt near the woman. "You want that business card, you go ahead. I already memorized the number, just hand over my wallet and I won't call the cops on you" Abigail looks ready to run and snatch it if she has to, the wallet that is. The little gold cross around her neck moves up and down with each panted breath.

Lola lifts the wallet, pulling it behind her and over her shoulder a bit. "Not so fast, darlin', whats the rush anyhow? It's yer vacation," Lola professes, as though she were a doctor giving advice. "Ya need ta relax fer a tic."

Her chuckle is creepy, eerie almost. And that cross…make no mistake that Lola notices it. "Sides, ya won' be tellin' no pigs on me." She twirls the card again, glancing at it. "Daddy Lindy won't like that, not at all. An he must be somethin' real important ta ya ta have memorized his number. So where yat, darlin? What's Linderman business doin' down here when I don' hear heads nor tails of it from anyone?"

Lola lifts the wallet, pulling it behind her and over her shoulder a bit. "Not so fast, darlin', whats the rush anyhow? Now darlin," Lola professes, as though she were a doctor giving advice. "Ya need ta relax fer a tic."

Her chuckle is creepy, eerie almost. And that cross…make no mistake that Lola notices it. "Sides, ya won' be tellin' no pigs on me." She twirls the card again, glancing at it. "Daddy Lindy won't like that, not at all. An he must be somethin' real important ta ya ta have memorized his number. So where yat, darlin? What's Linderman business doin' down here, then? Ya know ya'll called me at the ass-crack a dawn, so whatever's needed it better be real important. I need my beauty sleep."

"I've never met Daniel Linderman. He's never had a need to meet me. I deal with others in the organization" Abigail uses organization instead of business. "I have the number memorized because I need to call Mr. Caliban" Robert Caliban, Linderman's PR rep.. wait a minute, they called Lola. Linderman's folks called Lola. "I'm down here because I'm from here. I with my cop boyfriend who will have no qualms running you down. What other Linderman folks are doing down here" Abigail shrugs. "Then they're down here. And I'm down here and you're the one with my wallet and my business card"

Lola doesn't seem particularly worried about the prospect of a 'cop boyfriend' or any other sort. She just grins, all the wider. "So ya fix 'em up after they been broken down, then? Ah spoze that's one way ta go bout it…" she murmurs, idly opening the wallet and glancing through it as though it were a SkyMall and she were on a trans-continental for the next five hours.

"Hmmm…" she murmers, flipping through IDs, credit cards, etc. "Keep yer panties on, darlin, ye'll get it back when I'm ready ta give it back. Ain' much else interestin' in here anyway, it seems. But ain' it just funny, Ahm spectin' a few Linderman's folks from way up in Yankee-town, an I come an' find you. So how bout it love, talk t'me some more bout Caliban then." She twirls the wallet between her fingers with surprising dexterity.

It's almost on the tips of her lops to sarcastically throw back that she can't heal anymore. Linderman is sending folks down here? What for? "Something like that." The fixing broken things. "Caliban is Mr. Linderman's representative. He's the individual that I deal with in the organization. That's all. If I need something, I call. What do you do for the Linderman Organization"

Well that's interesting, isn't it. Abby doesn't know what Lola does for Linderman. She should know, if she were sent down here by his people. But she doesn't. So, instead, Lola occupies herself by looking over Abby's registration card.

"Traiteur," she says, as though reading the word. "I ain' never met another one been touched by Oshun afore, not since my Maman. Okay, Traiteur, I work for 'im, probably not doin' the same sorta thing yer doin' though. I deal with…finances." Sure, she can say it that way.

"traitor?" Why the hell is the woman calling her a traitor. "I'm touched by god, not by.. oshun" what in the heavens is even 'oshun'. The blonde looks tremendously perplexed and confused. "Please, can I have my wallet back before Victor gets here"

Lola shakes her head at Abby as though she didn't know any better. "Traiteur's a word fer healer round here, Creole's use it. Used ta refer to the old ladies livin' in the swamp, but wif all the 'new age' goin' round, don' gotta live in the swamps no more ta earn the name." She shakes her head, looking over Abby's license - particularly the city - as she speaks. "Naw, darlin', yer touched by Oshun. Me Maman was too, saw it with mah own eyes. She were a priestess a Olodumare - God, more or less. Touched by Oshun, she made folks better by touchin' 'em. Ain' that how it is with you, Traiteur?"

"I'm a faith healer not a swamp healer" the liscence shows a smiling blonde woman, New York area, 5'7 123lbs, blonde hair, blue eyes and even an organ donor. "Touch and prayer" At least she knows now that the woman isn't calling her a traitor. Abigail's impatient to get her wallet back from lindermans "financial associate" which Abby is pretty sure means loan enforcer which means loan shark, something. Fuck where was Victor. But then again, if this was a Linderman member, maybe it's a good thing Victor didn't show up.

"Do you have any more questions or can I have my wallet and I go back to doing what I was doing?"

As more and more time goes on, Lola is liking the girl less and less. So, very deliberatly, the brunette removes her sunglasses. "Naw, ya still ain' told me watcha wantin' with Mistah Linderman's business. I was polite, willin' ta share. S'only courteous ta share in return. Ya fix up his trash, then?" She asks, glancing through the plastic once more. A wider smirk crossses her lips.

"YA really are up tight darlin, ya thought about a massage or somethin? Might do ya some good ta relax."

"I am uptight. I'm a wound wire ready to blow. I really don't think a massage is going to cut it, but.." What is she wanting with Mr. Linderman's business. "Listen, Miss. I didn't go to Mr. Linderman. His man, Mr. Caliban came to me, to my bar, to see how I was doing after I got caught healing a guy on camera who was gonna die. I have his card because Mr. Caliban is doing something for me and I owe them a favor. Thats it, that's all. They've never asked me to heal. I'm here on my own, on vacation and visiting my folks. I swear. Really." Abigail's hands lift to rub at her face. All this over a stolen wallet.

Lola sighs, a pained sigh. "Maybe it's cause yer borin then, that yer so up tight." She says, tossing the open wallet toward the girl. Sure, it might make it, but a lot of cards and change might come tumbling out too. "Borin' people are, in my experience." She waits for Abigail to bend down and pick up her things.

If only Lola knew how really not boring Abigail is. "Right, because i'm the paragon of boring. I own a bar, and a healer. Lady, you don't know anything about me beside my name and age and whatever is in my wallet. So you can reserve judgment for another time and help me pick up my stuff before I decide to be unboring and phone up Caliban and tell him that one of Mr. Lindermans floozies stole my wallet and has been giving me the fifth degree in an alley in New Orleans." It's snapped out as the blonde gathers her skirts to tuck them between her knees and start to gather her stuff together. "Bitch" muttered under her breath.

Lola doesn't seem like she's the type willing to help. "Yer borin' me, although that lil speech did hold a bit more fun in it." She walks past Abigal, pausing once to hand the woman the Linderman card over her shoulder. "Up until the Imma tell on you part. But that's alright, we kin work on it. Oshun don' touch everybody, after all." Was there a hint of bitterness in her tone just there? It's very faint, but it might just have been there. "He touched you, it were fer a reason. Orisha's picky."

The business card is taken away, gently and carefully. "And sometimes, he takes it away" murmured under her breath. "So pick another person to steal from. Maybe it won't be someone who knows your employer" Sarcasm does not become Abigail. "God bless and have a good day…" waiting for Lola to offer a name

"Like I said, Orisha's picky. I'm Lola Mayeux," she explains, apparently not afraid of getting into trouble with the boss. "Ah live above the Black Cat Lounge, so iffen ya need me ya kin' find me there. Oshun touched my maman, touched you in the same way. Ought to respect that, the way I see it." Yes, despite being the bitch that she is, just because Abby and her mother share an ability, that's enough to offer up a name and a location. In Lola's crazy crazy world, at least.

"Lola Mayeux" She was so comitting THAT face and name to memory. "Abigail Beauchamp, I'm over in Butte la Rose" A good hour away. "If you need anything.. I'm about 5 minutes away though. Boyfriend is a Evolved speedster" Everything seems to be picked up and she's slipping that little white card into her wallet.

Lola bobs her head, and seems to be rather finished with the woman. She turns on her heel and walks out of the alley without so much as another word.

As she hits the main street, and the sunlight warms her face - or rather, bakes, since it's perpetually hot here - she lifts a hand. A gold chain glitters between her fingers, and dangling from it, a golden cross.

Now that was fun.

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