Logs:Perilous Mission Prelude
| Perilous Mission Prelude | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2023-03-20 "I don't think it's a bad idea." |
| Location
<NYC> Guest Room - Le Bonne Entente - Astoria - Queens | |
This is a "standard" guest room, the smallest on offer at here, but Le Bonne Entente's standards are quite high. Careful interior design makes the most of the limited space and keeps it from looking or feeling cramped even with a queen sized bed, nightstand, and a little sitting area complete with coffee table, love seat, and chair, all upholstered in blue velvet. The walls are a pale and soothing sea blue, largely unadorned except for a few small plant sconces and the art mirrors that make most of the copious natural light streaming in through the tall sliding glass doors that lead out to the small balcony. Though the toilet tucked into the hallway corner is fully enclosed, the rest of the bathroom is enclosed in only partially frosted glass that leaves sight lines open. The closet by the front door is not large, but outfitted with a clever organization system. Across from it, the expected minibar (with some less expected but very thoughtful amenities), minifridge, and mini-microwave are cleverly concealed in a sleek sideboard in the entryway. "Thank you so very much!" Wendy's bright chirrup at the door is probably cheerier than the occasion really calls for -- but then, at the moment she is not directing it to her collaborators in scheming but to the young server who has just wheeled a tray of food into the room. She digs a solid tip out of a pocketbook on the nightstand and drifts back into the room -- eschewing food but uncorking the wine that came with it to pour a glass for anyone who wants. Some days just call for that. When she sits it is not in any of the available chairs but perched on the edge of that same nightstand, one hand smoothing against her flowy brown skirt and her other curled delicate around the wine glass. "They won't be locking you up," sounds, soft and just a touch fretful, like she is reassuring herself of this moreso than Lily, "-- we'll be able to be in contact if you need to change plans or -- well. If you need anything." "What," Lily asks from where she sits at the desk, "are we defining as 'needing anything'. Do I run to Staples for more SD cards or do you all have special encrypted ones. What if the lenses shatter." Her tone is dry but serious. at her side, a small notebook is open, scrawled with Espionage Notes too sensitive for a vulnerable computer and too new to be memorized, yet. A pen is tucked in the front pocket of her black overalls, the sleeves of her grey sweater pushed up around her elbows. She has been fidgeting this whole time with her jewelry -- her earrings, a woven bracelet on her wrist, now a silver pocketwatch she's attached to the belt of her overalls and has been opening and closing repeatedly. Lily's laptop has myriad tabs open, currently, tiled across her screen -- a list of emails, one open with Congratulations, you've matched! in bright letters; another, more personal email from a Dr. Johnson; American Airlines baggage allowances policies; an apartment application for a complex in some small town. She reaches out for a glass with a look that is somewhere between a grimace and a plea, though whether it is about wine or this whole plan is unclear. Her eyes flicker over the food, then back down to her screen to click on a new message. The new one is an itinerary confirmation -- Lily scrolls down. "Do you," she asks, raising the wine to her lips, "have any idea what I should be expecting in --" she peers at the text again, "Ohio?" Winona accepts the wine; the thoughtful lines that are being etched upon her face over the last few days want for relaxing. Her feet are crossed at her ankles, the leather clicking together as she bounces her foot, which would probably reduce the effectiveness of the rainbow alchemical images of the night sky if she were hoping to reference them. The knees of her torn jeans spread to show some more skin when she leans forward. "I do have cards with extra layers of encryption that I can give you," she offers earnestly. "Just don't get chili there, and I think you'll do alri-- Oh. The lab, right. I heard some things about it when I was in Blackburn that I can share. I, um, put together some files on people who work out there. Whatever I could dig up from here. And I will make any trips you need, this is my 100% everything now." She makes a gesture as if lowering her hypothetical blinders. "Corn and nazis?" Wendy hazards a very uncertain guess, "I've tried to avoid knowing much about Ohio before -- oh." Her 'oh' comes at roughly the same time as Winona's. One of her legs swings slowly, thumping a bare heel lightly against the side panel of the nightstand. Her mouth purses and twists slightly to one side. "I think," she ventures slowly once Winona is done speaking, "you'll be the best person to gauge what it is you need. My personal opinion is that you should err on the side of pestering us more, not less." She's glancing only briefly toward Lily's screen, then down to her hands. "The good news is that Lassiter is huge. More people means less scrutiny on any individual one of you." In the palm of her left hand, the pocketwatch clicks open again, exposing the asklepian on the dial. Lily doesn't look at it. "No chili, avoid the nazis, make friends with the mad scientists." Maybe the month since this idea was floated to her has made Lily more comfortable with the plan -- or at least saying it out loud. "I can pester. Get ready for daily updates. 'Today I helped torture this many mutants, found a new burger joint. What's new in New York?'" She shuts her laptop with her left hand and spins in the desk chair to face the other women. The pocketwatch clicks closed. "More people means more -- material, right? For you." She's looking at Winona now. "Is it enough anonymity for you to get to me. Physically. Without --" Lily presses her lips down, hard. Softer, "-- has anyone ever. Tried. This Lassiter. If I'm found out, how fucked am I." "More material," agrees Winona. "More varied kinds of things they are doing. People they are--" She presses her lip between her teeth, "Lassiter has been... tried. Kinda sorta. That is why Flicker ended up with us. If you are found out, there are not a lot of routes for getting unfucked. If you are worried about being exposed meeting with me, I will hold off contact. Or set up a third party to go between?" She raises an eyebrow and looks to Wendy as she inflects those words into a question. "But I mean. You have my support. Whatever you need. For sure for sure." "Dawson was trying to break someone out of Lassiter when they caught him," Wendy agrees. "But that's -- that was different. They're not going to disappear you into Prometheus and they -- probably won't kill you." This latter, not as confident as it ideally should be. Her lips compress. "They might throw you in a cell beside Jackson." Click. The watch clicks open again. Lily runs her thumb over the open face. “…I didn’t know that.” No accusation in her tone, just a faint surprise. “So, pretty fucked, then.” She straights up suddenly, clicks the watch closed again and returns it to her pocket. When her hand emerges, it’s with a tiny thumb drive on a double helix keychain. “One of you should keep this, then. I was going to ask Polaris or maybe DJ to, but— ” her cheeks twitch, swallowing a different end to the sentence. “— if it goes south. My will, as legal as I could get it on short notice. Letters for my siblings. Probably—“ her eyes flick up to Wendy, “— you’ll never need it.” Winona purses her lips tightly, but reaches to take the thumb drive. Once she has a hold of it, she examines it carefully between her fingers. "We will probably never need it, but I will hold onto it 'til you take it back." She takes a prolonged drink of her wine. "This is my everything right now. So whatever you need. I don't want you to feel. Alone. In this." "Hopefully we won't ever need it, but it is good to be prepared." Wendy's brows pinch as she looks between the drive and Lily, her frown slowly growing. "-- have you told them? Will you tell them?" Lily’s lips press tight at Winona’s reassurance. “Haven’t told — them, no.” The pause between told and them is quick and easily missed. Quieter: “Was thinking to. But — you’ve known her longer. If you both think it’s a bad idea…” Lily lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. Her hand dips back into her pocket, grip tight around the watch there. "I don't think it's a bad idea," says Winona, in a tone that suggests she absolutely thinks it's a bad idea. "I am not really sure how she might react. But also. I can have that conversation with her about what we are doing." She fiddles with her finger through her hair. "But it's up to you." "I --" Wendy hesitates, just the faintest tug pulling at her lips at Winona's answer. "think she might not take it well. Maybe we -- tell her later." She is tipping her wine glass toward Winona to indicate that we is in fact Just Winona. Her eyes flick towards Lily's pocket, the now-unseen watch in it, and her gaze dips as she takes another sip of wine. Her hand moves to her wrist, touching a glint of metal bangle there, mostly hidden beneath the sleeve of the baggy sweater she is wearing. "This is not exactly the kind of adventure I think anyone had in mind, but --" “-- it does meet the criteria for perilous mission. Maybe she would be amused.” Lily sounds doubtful. Her hand emerges, empty, this time, to grasp at her glass of wine and take a long drink. Looks to Winona. "...if you could. That might be best." She puts down the glass, crossing her arms and gripping the space just above each elbow. "...I think I'm going to feel pretty alone out there, no matter what. But just -- some people knowing I haven't just dropped off the planet. Would be a comfort. Whenever you're ready to tell her." | |
