Participants:
| Scene Title | You Can't Spin Murder |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | While scamming Russo's mail, Kristen collides with Matt… Who isn't exactly unwelcome. |
| Date | October 9, 2010 |
Dorchester Towers is a huge white building surrounded by a carefully landscaped stretch of gardens. The spacious lobby almost has more window than wall, white and green marble floor tiles gleaming in the light; it is occupied by doormen and a concierge to assist renters and guests. Nine high-speed elevators provide convenient access to upper stories; every floor has its own laundry room. Closed-circuit TV monitors the lobby and grounds, and every apartment has a security system, double-bolt door locks, and even window locks. The complex has its own garage, a bicycle room, and a sun deck.
If it weren't for Miriam's insistence that Matt Parkman go sleep on a real bed rather than a couch. Her argument was that a good night's sleep would make the morning go easier, and that yes, she'd make sure the staff would call her so she could call him if something developed. Of course, the actual exchange was of course the picture of professionalism.
It's about six-thirty when Parkman slips through door into the lobby of Dorchester Towers. He nods to the desk clerk just as he nodded to the doorman, then moves to the small nook where the mailboxes are.
When he re-enters the lobby, he's shuffling through a stack of envelopes. "Darren," he says, holding out a sorted pile of coupons and various other ads to the desk clerk with a tired sort of smirk, "Do you want a two-topping pizza for $9.99?"
Much like the Secretary, Kristen's job has her working practically twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. There's no rest when it comes to ratings, and she's a fairly determined little woman. Dressed in a pair of snug fitting yellow leather pants, dark gray silk top, and high heels, she steps off the elevator. She's not really paying attention to where she's walking, instead, she's sorting through some mail.
"Bills~ Bills~ Bills~. Bradley Russo, how can a man who does nothing have so many bills~." The producer is trying to figure out which ones she can charge to the company and which ones he has to pay for himself. Of course there's some of her own mail mixed in, the more delicate pieces that she doesn't want going to the hotel. Her singing voice isn't horrible, definitely not professional caliber but she's got enough of one that she sounds good over an intercom.
If she was a mind reader, she would have noticed that she's headed straight for Parkman instead of the door. It's not before she spies his long overcoat that she actually dances to the side and issues him a look that clearly states watch where you're going!! That quickly turns into a smile when she recognizes the tall man, Hello~
Both Parkman and the clerk who is eagerly accepting the proffered coupons look over at Kristen as she approaches the desk like a headless chicken, but Parkman's smirk doesn't fade all the way from his face when she snaps her eyes up to him. "In traffic violations?" he says, lifting his eyebrows, "It's the moving vehicle that is generally the one at fault. When you're stopped, you're in control of the car."
He steps away from the desk then, lifting the few bits of mail that are either real mail being forwarded to his 'home' address in NYC rather than the office in a sort of salute. "You should watch where you're going."
"Well then it's a good thing I don't drive," Kristen smiles up at him as she flicks her envelopes back into a single pile. "I'm sure New York City is safer for the fact." Instead of just letting him be on his way, she steps into his way and raises her eyebrows just a little. "So, Secretary Parkman, I didn't get a chance to thank you for coming on the show."
She pivots around on one foot and faces the direction he's about to head in, apparently intent on tagging along. Invited or not. "I hope we didn't scare you off of future eposides… You were fantastic on camera."
Matt has partially disconnected.
"Because you let Nichols lead the American people to believe that I'm part of something cooked up by Orwell?" Parkman doesn't look back at Kristen, but neither does he stop her from following him to the elevators. But he does pause long enough after a few strides to glance back out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes, I've read a book." Since he can't imagine she hasn't run checks on all her guests in order to try and dig up dirt. He sighs, his lips pressing into a line for a moment before he starts walking again. "Anyway, you're welcome. It was almost fun."
"Oh psh," Kristen admonishes with a light pat on Matt's bicep as he takes the long strides to the elevator. Even in heels, she doesn't have too much trouble keeping up, she's a New Yorker at heart. "Tell you what, even though we're usually a debate forum…" She pauses and puckers her lips slightly in thought. "How would you like to come on solo for a tete-a-tete with Brad, or maybe just one other guest? We can even close the set to an audience… Who just loved you by the way."
The brunette is gushing, outwardly and inwardly, I can see why he's got baby momma fanatics… he's got that cheek pinchable look. Crap… mind reader… YOU DID NOT HEAR THAT!! She blinks her eyes a few times as she tries to recover from the mental faux pas, with a light smile. "Aaaanyway… Congratulations on Messiah, you're really cracking down on them! No more terrorists in this town, pretty soon." God what I wouldn't give to have one of them on the show… Probably mean arrest though… Bad for ratings…
And here Harper thought it looked like they were loosing.
Parkman actually smiles at the compliment, but it's short-lived at best. "Tell you what," he says after he leans to push the button on the elevator. "After the mastermind behind Messiah is behind bars, we'll see what we can do about a one-on-one between me and your boy. Sound like a deal?"
"I'm going to hold you to that, Secretary Parkman." The woman's flashy smile is star quality, just like her host's. She even gives him a finger gun, a wink, and a click of her tongue as she pulls the 'trigger' on it. "Oh, hey… I'm trying to get Lazzaro and Ivanov, the two heroes from that one raid on for a spot in the next couple of weeks, you know before the hype has worn off. You wouldn't happen to have any tidbits that you'd like to see asked, would you?"
He can probably do it all himself.. but if Parkman wants to know, there's probably a hundred or more viewers with the same questions. There's a mental scream and a grimace as Kristen tries to blank her thoughts while speaking to the man, but it's really not working. Her mind, like her mouth, works at a million miles a minute.
Parkman leans back and tucks his mail into the inside pocket of his coat before he slips his hands into the more conventional ones. "We'll call you," he says with a slight tilt of his head, before he rocks back onto his heels for a moment. "I know what you're trying to do here, Reynolds," he says, his smile returning.
"You're trying to curry favors. Think you can do a little detective work for us, spray it all over the media. You think it won't perk Messiah's ears, and that we'll actually be able to use it to bring them in." He looks to her then, his eyes slightly narrowed. "Or else it's the other way around. But I could always read your mind and find out."
"Trying to do?" Kristen quips, batting her eyelashes like a Southern Belle. "Why suh, I couldn't possibly venture a guess as to what it is you ahr implyin'." Her native Tennessee tongue drips out like saccharine, matching the accent of her thoughts remarkably. A slow smile creeps out over her face as she quirks an eyebrow up to him, this time, it's challenging. I don't have anything to hide… Go for it.
"If you're looking for a program to get the word out about Messiah, you give me what you want on the air and I'll put it out. Sound like a deal?" Her words are clipped again, now sounding more generic television American than previously. "After all, Parkman, we need people like you looking out for us too."
The elevator dings and opens, and, like a gentleman, Parkman waits for those few riding it down to undoubtedly run last minute errands before curfew kicks in step off before he steps in. But he holds his hand out as he turns to hold the door open as it starts to close.
"Ask me again when you get Peter Petrelli on your show," he says with a wink. "Then, I'll definitely have some stuff for you to put out on the air." When he leans away and the doors start to close again, he frowns. "I just want to catch 'em, Reynolds. Don't care about the spin. You can't spin murder."
Parkman's last statement catches her offguard and her easy going smile fades extremely quickly to a more neutral expression. "Right…" There's a definite pang of emotion in that short word, his voice is echoing in her head as though she's repeating it over and over. "I will uhm.. " Another twitch of her lips and she digs into a small purse, pulling out an onyx and silver card case. It doesn't match her warm outfit in the slightest. Plucking one of the cards from inside of it, she slips it to him with two fingers. "Give me a call, I wouldn't mind staying in touch." A double edged invitation if there ever was one.
The producer only hang around long enough for him to take the card before she's backing away and clipping quickly toward the door. Her hair wavers and bounces slightly, like Celine Dione in one of her fan videos. "I'll catch you again, Parkman, see you around." Something he said definitely put her off.
