ArchivedLogs:Equal Opportunity Detention

Equal Opportunity Detention
Dramatis Personae B, Ion, Scramble
In Absentia	2017-08-02 "Good to know my artistry gets some appreciation too, and not just my fine ass self."
Location <BOM> Front Porch - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
The front porch of the lodge unfurls its way across the entire front length of the building. Stained in a dark reddish finish, it seems to have been refurbished somewhat recently, the sturdy wood rather less weather-beaten than many of the buildings on the island. A half-height railing edges most of the porch, with a wide gated staircase centrally leading to the heavy front door, and ungated ramps at either side end. Protected from all but the most driving of rains by a sloped roof, the porch has been furnished with an assortment of furniture. Wicker rocking chairs, a pair of small square aluminum tables, a hammock at the far right end, a bench swing at the left. Despite the solid locks on the doors and windows, the front door holds a cheerfully flower-edged mat reading WELCOME. It's a pleasant evening. Warm and slightly breezy, the sunset setting the sky ablaze over the trees and a twinkling host of lightning bugs starting to emerge all around the grounds. Over on the porch there's a quiet creak, creak, creak, one of the wicker chairs rocking steadily back and forth. B is perched in it, one foot tucked up beneath hierself and the other planted on the floor, bare toes pushing up at intervals to keep the chair in motion. She's dressed today in a wide-strapped sundress, pale green at its bust, belted at the middle with a wide darker green belt, and bright pink speckled with watermelon seeds at its skirt. A tall glass of basil lemonade sits on the little table beside her, though its ice is melting as she ignores it in favor of the computer in her lap. Scramble's steps are light, coming up the path from the beach. She wears a tight cropped gold tank top and black denim short shorts, her feet bare (strappy golden sandals dangling from the fingers of one hand). The sunset blazes bright behind her, catching on her gold bangles and hoop earrings where they emerge from the soft black cloud of her hair. She lifts the nylon tote in her hand as she steps onto the porch. "Yo! I come bearing Chinese food." She deposits the bag on the table and hops up to sit on the railing. "You making the rest of us look bad, working so hard." "Don't front." Keeping pace with Scramble, Ion is in a pair of black jean shorts so old they're faded to grey, no shirt, sneakers untied on his sockless feet. "Don't tell us looking like a motherfucking queen every damn day don't take /hell/ of work, sister." Forget stairs, he grabs hold of the railing and hauls himself up, toes catching on the lip of the porch before he vaults up to sit alongside Scramble on the rail. "{Gorgeous evening, perfect sunset, what's on the computer better than all this?}" B looks up, eyes abruptly wide and gills already starting to flutter open -- briefly, at least, before ze, dips hir head again and they settle down. "Oh, hey, um." Hir brows pull inward in a small frown. "Ion's not wrong you know it'd take a /lot/ to make you look bad." There's a darker flush to hir cheeks when ze says this. "There's not much /better/ than the beach on a summer evening but /I'm/ biased. I'm just --" A small hesitation. Her teeth scrape at her lower lip, and swiftly after this she asks instead, craning toward the bag to sniff at it: "What'cha got?" Scramble rolls her eyes, though her smile is pleased. "Don't you know, I'm s'posed to wake up like this?" She open the bag and starts pulling out containers. "Xiao long bao, basil eggplant, cha shao pork, beef and broccoli, stirfry watercress, cold sesame noodles, and a metric frakton of steamed rice." She sets the almost comically oversized carton of rice down beside the rest with a flourish. "What /you/ got there that's keeping you out the water?" Ion reaches over to pluck a bun out of the mix, chomping into it happily. "Yeah okay if that's your story I ain't gonna argue only but I seen the bottles pile up in your bathroom it's a real art you got going on." With his bun he is gesticulating toward -- all of Scramble, really. His leg swings, heel thudding back idly against a part of the railing. "Is it videos of goats?" he wants to know. Hopefully. "Goats is almost as good as the beach, always." B chuffs out a small breath. Almost a laugh. Giving one minute shake of hir head, ze leans forward and skewers a piece of pork on a claw, popping it into her mouth. "Looking into where they're keeping Anette," she answers, once she's swallowed. "Good to know my artistry gets some appreciation too, and not just my fine ass self." Scramble also grabs a xiao long bao, and is about to pop the whole thing into her mouth when she stop short. "You making any headway? Ain't seen jack about her case in the news, I bet they haven't even allowed her a lawyer. Terrorists got even fewer rights than garden variety criminals." She takes a bite out of the bun, shaking her head. Ion wolfs down the rest of the bun, his eyebrows lifting at B's words. "Yeah for real? How's that going?" He squints at the back of B's laptop screen as if it might divulge some information. "They keeping her some place swank like your pa?" B /growls/ at this, teeth baring sharply to Ion. "Anette's /nothing/ like my pa." Hissed softly between her teeth. "Next to him she's not /even/ garden --" She swallows the rest of her sentence, gills fluttering quick and then pressing down flat. Her eyes fix on the screen, and she reaches for another chunk of pork, nibbling at it before speaking. "-- not anywhere swank," she finally volunteers. "But I think she's the same place he was before he got moved. I don't know about if she has a lawyer or anything, but the layout of that prison wing I can map pretty good." Scramble doesn't even blink at B's outburst. Her tone when she speaks again is as casual as ever. "Hard to compare, really, even if we're all just terrorist freaks to them at some level. But of the many ways Anette ain't like Jax, her case isn't a public embarrassment to the Man, so I'm sure they'd gladly disappear her forever." She slides off the railing, though still leans on it. "If you think you got enough info, we should take this to Lady Mastermind and see 'bout helping a sister out." Ion's lips twitch up briefly, but he only leans over to snag the sesame noodles and a pair of cheap wooden chopsticks, snapping the latter apart and stirring at the noodles. Plucking up a mouthful, still chewing when he answers, "Shit yeah that place, I know that place, no fun at all down there. Still I gotten in-out before. It changed much? Could do again?" B shrugs, subsiding back into calm as she closes the laptop, taking the /whole/ tub of pork for herself now. "A lot more Sentinels." There's a dismissive note to hir tone, an offhand curl to hir smile. "Nothing we couldn't handle."