Participants:
| Scene Title | Your Biggest Fan |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Lene Marlowe shows up at Dorchester Towers to get a special book signed by its author, and winds up delivering a horrifying warning. |
| Date | November 22, 2010 |
The front lobby of Dorchester Towers is a spacious and resplendant thing, with high ceilings and a front wall made entirely of etched glass, it resembles the opulence of an expensive hotel more so than a residential complex. A fountain, installed just two years ago, shined glossy black at the center of the lobby, ten feet tall and black, sculpted like a blocky double-helix of DNA reminiscent of the landmark that one stood at Kirby Plaza in Midtown Manhattan.
On the fountain's base is a bronze plaque etched with the names of victims of the November 8th, 2006 nuclear explosion, former residents of Dorchester Towers who were caught in the explosion and have been either missing since the blast or confirmed dead. The fountain also features one wayward soul this late afternoon.
One stocking-clad leg crossed over the other, Lene Marlowe has a book folded open in her lap atop a denim skirt. One booted foot waggles up and down to the rhythm of a song caught in her head as she reads, wavy locks of unnaturally red hair curling at her shoulders and tangled in the thick faux-fur trim of her heavy, though unbuttoned, winter jacket.
Hanging out of Lene's mouth, the cap to a hilighter waggles up and down as her teeth gnaw over the tip, and the hilighter it belongs to in her hand is marking passages in the weathered old novel she's holding in her lap. For the time being, she's patient, the person she's waiting here for has to come through here sometime.
Hopefully before security throws her out.
There's the ding of an elevator and out steps Savannah Burton. Idly tapping away some text message or Tweet or something similar on her phone, a leather messenger bag is slung over one shoulder, containing all of her necessary tools for writing while out. She'd be insane not to go somewhere without a notebook. Looking up from her phone, Savannah tucks it into her pocket, eyes scanning looking towards the doors as it seems she's on her way out. While she doesn't walk fast, she walks with a purpose. She's got somewhere to be, but she's in no rush, unlike most off to lunch on a weekday.
The ding goes by completely unnoticed as Lene obliviously continues to hilight in her book, right up until the click of Savannah's shoes on the tile floor comes past the fountain, and the redhead happens to glance up and— "Oh!" It's the sound of a squeak, followed by Lene's boots clapping down on the tile as she jumps off of the fountain, her hilighter slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor, rolling away as she hustles across the lobby to catch up to the author she'd been waiting for.
"M— miss Burton!" Lene's brows rise high on her forehead as she clutches that book close to her chest, hustling up to Savannah's side, then circling around in front of her, partly covering her mouth with the book, cover folded back and small-print text hilighted bright orange. "Miss Burton, I— I need to talk to you!"
There's an eyebrow raised as her name is called, but her pace slows just slightly. Savannah blinks a bit over towards Lene, studying her for a moment. She seems familiar, and the blonde has an eye for faces. She's sure it'll come to her in a minute. "If you're looking for an interview, those are supposed to be booked through my agent…" She shrugs her shoulders a bit. "But… I suppose I have a few minutes to chat."
"A— actually," Lene glances askance, then looks to the lobby attendants, then back to Savannah. "I— well okay I was hoping for two things," she admits with a bubble of laughter and a flick of her brows up to her hairline. "One, being selfishly hoping that, ah, I might be able to get an autigraph?" The book in her hands is waggled back and forth as a hopeful smile peeks out from over the top when Lene's mouth is revealed.
"The, ah, the other's a bit private?" One red brow lifts high and the other drops low. "I um, it's not really something to discuss, ah, in— in a lobby. But, it's important miss Bartlett, and I just— I know I'm not supposed to do this but I… I just I really admire your work and I want you to be able to finish your next book, you have no idea how much your work has meant to me."
The corners of Lene's mouth crack in a nervous smile, and the book she holds is drawn against her chest, teeth toying with her bottom lip after a moment in pensive anticipation.
"Two things, mm, now that's a pretty steep thing to ask," Savannah says, but her tone is clearly teasing, and if that didn't give it away, the broad smile on her face makes it plain. "An autograph is absolutely fine, I—" She pauses, and the pieces click in her head.
"You were there at the book signing at the Borders. Ah! I'm so, so sorry about that. I was planning to hold another one because we had to cut it short and I felt so bad that I didn't get to give out autographs at all, so I'm grateful that you happened to show up. As far as something more private… you mention my next book, so I'm intrigued as to what you might want to say. Something more private is fine. I was just going to head to lunch… did you want to come?" The blonde fishes through her bag for a pen, then nods towards the book. "Who should I make it out to?"
"Oh!" Lene's expression turns into a beaming smile, book squeezed to her chest and brows raised animatedly. As Lene reaches inside of her jacket with one hand to retrieve a pen, there's a rattling inside of her jacket as fingers thumb over the unwieldly collection of pens, markers and pencils she has in her interior pocket. "I'm such a huge fan of your earlier works, miss Barton, I hope you don't mind!"
Her earlier—
Flipping book around and offering it out to Savannah, Lene beams a bright smile, showing the inside cover and the cover page. Savannah doesn't really quite see the pen being brandished at her, or the flush of color on Lene's face in excited amisement. All she sees is the title of the book written under a psudonym.
MEAN HEAT
"Could you sign it, to Lene, from Gladys — o— or something!?"
Savannah's face flushes red and her eyes quickly dart around, scanning to make sure no one's watching. "Ah, um. Miss Potter doesn't usually sign novels. I mean, this is, uh, a first. I, um—" Well, there's egg on her face now. Leaning in carefully, a message is scrawled inside on the cover page of the book.
//To Lene, my biggest fan ever. <3 Gladys //
The author looks up, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Lets keep that between the two of us."
Beaming, Lene lets out a squeak of delight and clutches the book to her chest, rising up on her toes and bouncing on her heels before rolling her shoulder and swinging her knit purse around, tucking the book (and pen!) away safely inside. When green eyes alight back to Savannah again, Lene's smile remains as broad and as bright as ever. "You— you have no idea how much this means to me. I've been reading your books— I— uh— well your other books since…" Lene's eyes cast aside and her brows furrow. "Well— well for a while, anyway."
When she looks back, her smile has faltered some. "I had… I had a pretty hard life, growing up. I never got to know my dad, he… he died before I was born. So— so I kinda' like to imagine that maybe he was like one of the characters from your books. You know— brave, like— like a hero or something. Mom… doesn't like to talk about it."
Making a noise int he back of her throat, Lene furrows her brows. "I'm— I am so sorry that really isn't appropriate to talk about." Green eyes flick away, and Lene reaches up to dry one eye with the suede sleeve of her jacket.
"Well, it's nice to know I've got fans. I always like hearing from people who read my work… kind of makes it all worth it." Savannah notes the sudden reflection on personal history, her lips forming a thin line. "It can be hard to talk about someone you've loved when you've lost them, I'm sure. I'm glad you had that to hold onto, at least." She pauses for a moment, then suddenly grins. "What was his name? I'm always in need of good character names… and we might just be able to make sure your dad's a bit of a hero after all. Then at least I'll know I have one person reading my next book, hmm?"
Lene's brows furrow, awkwardly, then her head shakes slowly— dismissively. "I— I can't, that's…" there's a hitch of Lene's breath as she breathes in through her nose and then exhales a sign. "I have something more pressing, and— and I could get in a lot of— " Lene sighs frustratedly, as if having difficulty finding the right words. But when she advances on Savannah, her brows raise in worry and her voice drops to a whisper.
"M— Miss Barton, someone is going to try and kill you." There's a quaver tremor in her voice, and Lene's lips give a twitch of emotion. "You— you're going to die on Christmas Eve, and your next book isn't going to be finished, and— and so many more people are going to get killed." There's a worried hitch of Lene's voice as she shakes her head again, then bites down on her lower lip.
"I— I see the future, miss Barton." That much is admitted with the most hushed of whispers. "I've seen the future, and— and in it, the world loses you."
That's the second time Lene's managed to shock Savannah and she manages not to choke. She glances towards Lene, then around in the immediate area before she beckons for the other woman to follow. She steps out of the way, mostly to give a bit more privacy for the conversation, and the blonde looks seriously back over towards Lene.
"I've seen and heard a lot of strange things, done a lot of research, but this is the first time I've ever seen anything related to me." The author stares at Lene intently, a look that seems to be determining truthfulness. "So you're telling me this. If you're able to tell me this, then… the future can be changed, can't it? W-What happens? There's more than just me… who else dies? Is it another bomb, something like that?"
"I… I am banking a lot on the idea that the future can be changed," Lene admits with a crease of her brows together, hands wringing around the strap of her purse. "I just— I don't know, it's… there's so much responsibility knowing what's going to happen in the future. Knowing, having that— that burden is a lot harder than I ever thought it would be. I… I promised myself that I'd see you, once, that I'd go to your book signing and get your autograph and just…"
Let it happen, goes unsaid.
"But I can't," comes with eyes welling up with tears, "I— I can't just… I'm going to do something about it. Because… because you're important, Savannah. You— you could've— " A pathetic sound croaks in the back of Lene's throat before she looks askance, then back to Savannah, trying to dry her eyes with her sleeve. "God, I'm— so sorry."
Hiccuping out an emotional sound near to crying, Lene bites down on her bottom lip and alights reddened eyes to the writer. "It happens at a charity event, at d'Sarthe's restaurant. Someone— someone sets off a bomb, nearly everyone's killed. I— " Lene's head shakes from side to side, brows scrunching together.
"I don't know who's responsible," sounds pleading, "and… and I can't go to the authorities, I— I'm not registered," is a sharp whisper, "as— as someone with an ability. I faked my registration. I— I was scared."
Savannah purses her lips, and a hand finds its way to Lene's shoulder. It's there for comfort, as the author's blue eyes take in the woman carefully. "It's a lot of responsibility, something like that. I can't say that I know what that's like, unfortunately. I'm not Evolved, either, but… I might be able to pull some strings. My sources for books are anonymous, that's pretty common knowledge, and for a lot of them I have confidentiality agreements that both I and they sign. Which means… I may be able to go to the authorities and let them know. I'm not sure if it would work, but…" She rubs the back of her neck with a free hand, looking back to Lene.
"You're doing good. We'll figure this out, okay? I don't know if I can keep them from stopping having the charity… but we'll see. Do… I mean, I don't know how your ability works… do you think it's because of me? Or one of the other guests? Do you remember seeing someone important who might be targeted? I mean, I'm outspoken, but… I'm not sure I warrant a bomb all to myself."
There's a look, awkward and searching as Lene considers Savannah's question. Her brows furrow together, eyes shut and she tries to recall the information that the author is looking for, though it seems not to be easily attainable. "It's… I don't remember it well. I know it was a charity function, I believe— I think it had something to do with the riots. It was— it was very pro-Evolved, and you were there as a guest, and…" sliding her tongue over her lips, Lene glances at the hand on her shoulder, cheeks coloring a touch darker red before she looks back up to Savannah.
"I— it…" A slight stutter before Lene catches herself. "It was Humanis First," and that much is almost explanation enough. "I remember… it was in the newspapers, I— " Lene pauses, eyes flicking to the side, "my ability works by reading things, and… the letters just get jumbled up, shift around, and I— I guess it's like Dyslexia?" Red brows lift, and Lene watches Savannah uncertainly.
"I— I read it as a news article. Humanis First was responsible for the attack, twenty died, thirty-six more were injured. I remember… I remember it was a suicide bombing, but— " she shakes her head slowly, teeth pressing down gently on her bottom lip. "That's all I know, I— I'm so sorry."
Savannah squeezes Lene's shoulder gently. "That's okay. Just remember what you can." She says, a glance outward before she focuses on Lene once more. "It's okay. It's okay, I promise. We'll get this sorted out, okay? I've been to d'Sarthe's before… Marie d'Sarthe's a fan. I'm sure that if I tell her that the place is going to blow up, she might take it seriously. I don't think she'd be too fond of the place blowing up…"
The author fishes around in her purse, pulling out a business card and a pen, scrawling something on the back. "My cell-phone number's on there, okay? If you hear of anything else about this… or if you 'read' about something else from the future and you need help, Lene, you call me, okay? I know people. I can help. Just take a deep breath, I promise things will turn out okay. I don't plan on dying before I finish another book. I couldn't do that to Kam." She grins, managing it amidst her own fears, which are washed out by her mind trying to come up with who would be the best to contact first.
Biting down on her bottom lip, Lene's brows furrow as she considers the business card. Half of her is a flutter because she now has a personal line to someone she has long admired. But the other half of her is torn by the realization that this situation is precarious and made only more so by her involvement.
"The future," Lene explains in a hushed tone of voice, reaching out to take the business card, but more so to settle her hand atop Savannah's. "The future has push." Red brows pinch together, and Lene's green eyes seem to imply a hidden meaning in those words. "I've— seen people try to change the future before, only for it to happen another way, a similar way." Nibbling on her bottom lip, she holds the card fast in her hand as her touch slides away from Savannah's.
"I know someone too," she explains, turning her green eyes up to the author she so admires. "And I know he'll help you too. Do— do what you can, but I'm— I'm going to call you again, and… and I'm going to make sure nobody hurts you." Her voice tightens just a bit there.
"I…" Then, however, Lene's voice loses some of its assurance, and turns to more of a hushed tone. "I want to learn how to be a hero," green eyes avert to the floor, then flick back up to Savannah, "like the ones in your books."
Savannah takes half a second for her already rapid-firing brain to think on the words 'the future has push'. With no ready conclusion, she moves on to the other business at hand. "If there's one thing I know… I know that sometimes a little detail change might seem like a lot but when you've already got the plot of a book in place, it won't derail it. Sometimes, you have to get to the root of things and solve it."
She looks back over. "So we'll see what we can do. I happen to enjoy Christmas and I don't plan on ruining a perfectly good Christmas Eve for me or fifty-five other people." She looks at Lene seriously. "So you do what you can, you talk to the people you know who can help and I'll do the same and we'll fix this." The author notes Lene's hushed tone, the lack of assurance, and she analyzes that with a small smile. "Lene, I think you're already well on your way to becoming a hero."
Green eyes are saucer-wide by now, lips pressed together tightly. The young redhead takes a step back, holding that business card so tight in her hand that the cardstock crinkles beneath her thumb. "Thank you," is breathily whispered as she steps back another pace, looks over her shoulder to the lobby doors, then back to Savannah, anxiously. "I— I need to go," she quietly, awkwardly insists, despite the earlier offer of sharing a coffee that Savannah had made.
"I— I should go, it— " Something about the author's reassurance has struck a cord with the young woman, and for ill or worse has yet to be seen. "Please," is one final imploring request as she hesitates on backing up any further, watching Savannah from across the lobby with a tiny smile.
"Please be safe." That's the most she can offer, not even reassurance, before she turns and stumbles over herself, heading for the doors.
Savannah glances back to Lene, pursing her lips as she nods. There's a lot more questions she has, but it's clear that Lene's not going to stick around for them… and maybe that's for the best. She's already got a lot to think on, just from the bit that Lene has said. "I'll be safe. I don't plan on letting anything stop me from getting my next book out." She watches Lene head for the doors, brow furrowed. She had work to do.
Hopefully, if Lene does this right, Savannah Barton will have work to do for a long, long time to come.
The likelihood of that, has yet to be seen.
