Yellow Bugs and Peach Moons


delilah_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Yellow Bugs and Peach Moons
Synopsis Delilah is called in when the newly registered Sable needs a lift.
Date September 16, 2010

Outside NYC Police Headquarters

It would be fair to say that Sable can sometimes have a flair for the dramatic. She's a showman, if not by nature then by training. It's an outlet, really, for a restless energy that could, honestly, have much worse forms of expression. Miscreant behavior, for example. The trouble is, sometimes the two run together.

The text Delilah Trafford receives at around 6:30 PM reads like so: 'at po po HQ need a ride from pretty lady please?'

Which isn't exactly dramatic in and of itself, but certainly leaves enormous room for speculation. It's pretty clear how Ms. Diego feels about the 'po po', or 'pigs' as she habitually calls them. Considering Sable's insistence on cutting down on or cutting out larceny, theft and other criminal activities explicitly on Delilah's behalf, it's maybe peculiar, maybe not, but certainly worth noting that it's Dee Sable calls on to pick her up from the station.

Not so graceless, of course, as to ask a young pregnant woman to traipse into the chaos that is the first precinct, Sable can be found waiting on the corner by the station's front steps, easily spotted in part because of her size and the distinctness of her bearing, marking her apart, for those that know her, from the rest of the strange parade of those called before the Law.

Delilah would have just as likely waltzed in and dragged her out as anything; luckily, Sable is indeed sensible in one thing- being tact, for the afternoon. Delilah's car is usually very rare on the streets, but as of late she has made attempts at driving it more. Can't put a car seat on a scooter, when you have one. She'll have to get used to the yellow bug convertible in warm weather, and taxis or friends coming up this winter. It is not terribly chilly yet, and the top is down when Delilah is able to find a parking place along the front of the walk of the precinct. Ten minute parking, or thereabouts. Enough for her to stop and get someone.

Dark sunglasses band over her face, and her red hair is pulled up in a knot at the back of her head; her denim jacket and lacy dress are enough for the weather- though she does have on a pair of converse rather than something else. Comfort is a must, still.


The sound of the carhorn gets Sable's gaze swinging, and the bright yellow of the bug attracts the like yellow of her eyes, making Dee's conveyance about the first thing Sable takes note of, and Dee herself the second. The huge grin Sable wears is evidence to the non-seriousness of whatever has landed her here, though it may just be evidence to Sable's inability to take serious matters seriously or, and this is not to be underestimated, her simple happiness at seeing Delilah.

Sensible in tact only, she dodges past a policeman, ducking under the tray of Dunkin' Donuts coffees he's carrying, earning an indignant 'hey!' from the boy in blue. Whatever, copper. Her getaway driver is here! Sable bounds up to the bug and, gripping the top of the door, pushes off the ground and vaults into the seat, landing awkwardly with her feet nearly thwacking against the rear view mirror, back bumping against the stick shift. It takes a moment to right herself, and once she does, she reaches out to take Dee by the cheeks, thumbs pushing up her sunglasses so she can catch sight of those brown eyes.

"Hey good lookin'" Sable says, and tips over to plant a big kiss on Delilah's lips. Thumbs brush her cheeks before the shorter girl tilts back, hand immediately going to grapple for the seat recline lever. Where is it? She speaks as her hand searches. "Thanks fer this, darlin'. Funny goddamn thing is, I was tryin' t' get t' you, is how I ended up here."

It's like opening the window for a squirrel monkey. Seriously. Delilah winces when Sable nearly knocks over the mirror, eyeballing her until she sits up and takes her face in both hands. The redhead lets out a small, muffled noise, peering back at Sable with the bangs above her glasses now sticking up. Then Sable plants a big one on her, and she's only really coherent enough to let out another noise, though she does put a gentle palm to Sable's forearm. Mmmf?

"Buckle up, please. I'm not gonna drive off without that, in front of the police station." Dee lifts her eyebrows and laughs, leaning her head to Sable proper and trying to remain serious. "The hell you were, I told you not to bother coming if you didn't get the papers- do you have them now, at least?"


Sable found the lever she was looking for. In an instant she's almost fully reclined, laid back like a sunbather in a deck chair. She completes the image, hands folding behind her head as she closes her eyes, looking quite entirely content. Theeere we go.

But Delilah's insistence on legally enforced safety causes one eye to crack open, focusing in on the redhead, then swinging over to the the belt. A not-so-long arm reaches out to try and take hold of it, and after two tries she manages to get purchase, pulling the stretch of webbing across herself and fitting metal into metal with a 'click'.

"Aw, hell…" Sable says, grinning with careless cheer as Delilah chides her, "couldn't wait around f'r all that. Not gonna miss a lesson 'cause th' Man decides to throw up another little law in my way." She reaches up, takes her head in hand and tugs, cracking her neck before rolling out the tension. "Don't got papers yet, but I'm in their system now. Not too deep, though. Sorta threw them a few, like," she waggles her brows, "red herrin's. Should be 'nuff t' get me safe through t' yer place, though. And I c'n hide in th' trunk if needs be, don't got a problem with that. Just let's get t' yer digs, I need t' wash th' smell 'f bacon off m'self."

Delilah has taken the car out of park once Sable buckles herself in, albeit awkwardly. She pulls back out easily enough, coasting along after the car ahead of her.

"So you got caught and so your solution was to break the law a second time?" She sighs, loudly, before fiddling with the radio a second or two while she follows traffic along. "I know you hate it, but sometimes it makes things that much easier if you just go with it. You aren't the tier-three, Sable. What are you, a zero? One? I'm only registered as two because some well-dressed secretary of affairs did a favor for a favor."

Mercurial as always, no sooner is the car in motion than Sable decides that horizontal is not the way to cruise in a convertible. Another grapple, another tug, and the back of Sable's seat ratchets upright, so the yellow eyed girl can lean over the car's door and stick her face into the wind. It's not exactly the gale force of open highway speed, but the dark tips of her hair still flutter like ruffled feathers as they zip along. There's some question as to whether or not Sable is even listening, one that is put to rest as she eases back into her seat, arms crossing over her chest, a tilted glance cast over at Delilah.

"Wasn't 'bout t' put up any flags about Gun Hill," she says, her defense actually not totally ridiculous, "so I told 'em I was still on th' streets. No harm 'n' some good t' it. Particularly considerin' how things 're gettin' hot over on th' Hill," she wrinkles her nose, eyes going to the road ahead, reading the bumper stickers arrayed on the vehicle in front of them - 'My Son Beat Up Your Honors Student' - 'Jesus Loves You, Everyone Else Thinks You're An Asshole' - 'Horn Broken: Watch For Finger'.

"Smart money may be on gettin' th' hell out… though, dunno where I'm gonna go," Sable admits, eyes cutting back over to Delilah, "push comes, 'n' I gotta shove back… wonderin' if mebbe I could crash with you?" Brows lofted to make her eyes appear all the bigger and more innocent, Sable puts forth this hope as if it had the delicacy of a fabergĂ© egg. Like it would be worse than a crime to shatter it.

"If you don't like the system- whatever that pertains to- I can tell you that Roosevelt is not the island for you. You'd be wrapped up in what it is or isn't. I can't let you live there or anything, unless Else has a say- but if the couch is empty, and you're there, it's yours, if you want to stay there while you find a new place. If you want to put me down as a location on your registry, that's fine too." With knowing Sable comes the rare ability to counteract her charisma. Delilah is not perfect at it yet, but it is obviously developing quite fast. A+

Eggs is eggs, and they can crack like anything else!

Unfair! Sable remains quite helpless before Delilah's own charms, however passively transmitted. That the redhead should have effective defenses against Sable's wiles throws the whole balance of the courtship off. But, hey, Sable asked for a challenge. She got one. One of these days, she pledges she'll get up that tower. She just needs Dee to let down her hair a bit further. Sable's not as tall as most princes.

For now, Sable directs a skeptical look at Delilah, arms tugging even more snugly across her chest as she assesses the redhead's seriousness. "Ain't thinkin' anythin' permanent, darlin'. No worries 'bout that. Trust y' know best, far as that's concerned. Ain't thinking couch, though, neither," her pixie nose twitches, and then she ventures a smile, "I'll be good, promise! I'll be just as much trouble as y' ask, 'n' not a bit more."

Delilah laughs, glancing over at Sable from behind her glasses, then back at the road with a grin. "It's okay with me. But you gotta remember to be courteous about Else being there- no funny business that's a bit too funny, dig?" She steals a word from Sable's repertoire for the occasion. Her hand goes to fiddle with the radio again, and it settles on a classic rock station. There. Maybe that will settle Sable away from the topic a little?

"I've started telling people and passing out some invites- M'gonna have a baby shower next month, on my birthday. Figured it a good a date as any."

Sable sets her right hand over her heart, the outward mark of a pledge. "I would do nothin' I knew would displease you, darlin'," she states, her voice pitched into a fervor that would seem insincere coming from anyone less over the top, "pleasin' you is all I ever aim t' do." This… counts as assurance to good behavior, one guesses? Putting it in those terms may cast that into some doubt, but as a general rule when Delilah says jump, Sable tends to delay only so as to ask for clarification regarding height before complying.

The radio trick works pretty well, getting Sable to lean forward instantly so as to turn the volume up on 'London Calling', which is only one verse in. But even the radio plays second fiddle to Delilah's news. Baby shower and birthday? Sable almost looks shocked. "Fuck me sideways!" she exclaims, "that so? Aw hell, well, I sure ain't payin' that goddamn fine now. Gotta check my stocks, see what it is I c'n afford t' get y' 'n' th' bellybeast," she eyes Delilah's tummy, as if it, like some great magic eight ball, will grant her insight into gift purchase, "howzit I know I ain't gonna get somethin' someone else is gonna get y'? Y'all got friends enough t' get two 'f everythin', but I don't want t' share th' stage with no one, comes time f'r y' t' open what I get y'."

"What if I opened yours first? Would that be okay? Someone else can be embarrassed if that happens." Delilah makes a vague effort to accommodate. The magic eight ball that is her stomach does nothing apart from sit there under her dress and leggings, as silent and as inanimate as can be. "And as long as it doesn't come back to you, I don't care where your money goes." She chuckles once. "You could always get something bizarre from a pawn shop. Maybe something for when he's older?"

"Naw, naw, I ain't gonna have my gift be th' opener t' some sorry sucker's half-baked notion 'f what a lady like yerself deserves," Sable says, waving a hand to thoroughly dismiss the idea, "my gifts th' goddamn main event, if at all I c'n manage it. I'll empty th' coffers, swear I will, if that's what it takes. I refuse t' play second fiddle when it comes t' showin' favor t' th' lady 'f my fancy."

It seems Delilah has given something for Sable to ruminate over, to the extent that is has the diminutive rocker leaning forward in her seat, belt drawing taut against her shoulder as she sets her chin on her closed fist, a wiry facsimile of the Rodin. This only lasts for a little bit, though, a blessed space of silence, brief as all such silences must be with Sable. "Gonna fret over it later," she decides, "plus I sure as hell ain't gonna ruin th' surprise by sussin' it out right here next t' y'.

"Plenny 'f time I f'r that when I ain't in the presence of th' highest beauty, eh?" Sable is already leaning back again, turning to direct a smile at Delilah, "y' know, gal, hazy though my brain may be, I ain't forgotten what y' said 'bout burlesque 'n' all that one night. Y'all done that b'fore?"

Laughing, Delilah has to push the brake a little early to be able to stop without hiccuping the motion. "What, now? Yeah. I-" A pause. "-what exactly did I say about it? Was it the photos, or was it something to do with an act we were talking about?" They talk about so many different things, sometimes it is hard to keep track. "I've done it a couple times, but I have to say I'm more of a pin-up fan when it comes to getting myself into it. If that makes sense."

"Night we were at that, like, open mic thang," Sable elucidates, "Y' said, I remember, y' said there's some gals like yerself, with child 'n' all, that still did shows," the dark haired girl grins, eyes glinting, "I toldja not t' lose that train 'f thought, but 'course I held ont' it, just in case. So, havin' thought it over," and over, and over, "occurred t' me… only so often y'll look as y' do right now, eh? Full 'n' lovely like an early autumn peach moon. Figure mebbe it oughta be done honor to, y'know? A moment captured, a wonder preserved. Dig?

"Saying, basically… I ain't nothin' close t' professional, but I got eyes that see bodies better th'n most, 'n'… with you t' walk me through it… how's 'bout we make a shoot of it, eh?"

Maybe it is several things, but what Sable says makes Delilah turn a little rosy. "I'd normally say yes, but- gosh, I've got such the set of stretch marks on my hips now, and it seems like Imma just bloat up and float off. If you can figure something out, for a shoot- I mean, I'll think about it, sure." Taking pictures of her while pregnant is one thing, doing them pin-up style is another. But in the end, Delilah is going to be keen on doing it. She just doesn't know that yet.

"You're so poetic. Peach moon? Really?" She thought it was funny. And cute, of course.

You can't know what good seeing Delilah blush does Sable. Keep her smiling like that, she'll have crow's feet by forty. The sketched lines of happiness. "I'll make it happen, darlin'," she pledges, "you dunno how lovely you are, honest. Makes m' heart miss its cue sometimes. Comes in late, drops a beat. Gets m' soul in syncopation."

That's it. Sable has to. Careful not to get in the way of the stick shift, she leans up and over to kiss Delilah right behind her ear, an echo of her first such touch. "'course. You've seen 'em. Big and rosey, hangin' up in the washed out blue jean blue sky as th' sun sets. Only y' don't watch th' sun, 'cause th' moon beats it out in beauty. Can't think 'f a better way t' say how fair it is you are."

It's a good thing they are behind a taxi at a light- Delilah wriggles a little when Sable kisses her behind the ear, giggling in a high-pitched little squeak. "Oh, you." There is a rather good chance that Dee will get Sable back to the apartment and promptly lock the door, but for now, in the car, Lilah is left to laugh and try not to pitch the Bug into the Focus ahead of her.

"You're gonna make me crash, and then we'll be in big shit. And then you won't be able to get me any presents, and do you really want that to happen?"

Sable leans back, slooowly, letting the threat of further hazardous smoochery hang in the air for a few seconds before she settles back into her seat. She gives a soft, but rather contented, sigh, her eyes still angled over at Delilah. "I'll be good, darlin'. I swear," she says, though the look in her eyes suggests that this goodness may not be of the shoulder-angel advice variety.

A hand goes to fiddle with the chair's recline again. Settling into a more modest angle, but still tipping back in a somewhat luxuriant lean, Sable folds her hands across her stomach. Lying so languid, she's got a bit of a python aspect. Regally serpentine. Majestic in laziness. "Gonna get you somethin' fine, darlin'," she says, mind flitting back to the tasks to come, the gifts to buy, "I'll break th' bank tryin' to do you justice." She sounds like she's looking forward to it.

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