[SCENE] Lana and Payne in: The Fourth of July Date Extravaganza
((A backdated scene that occurred on July 4th, as a result of this thread.))
Lana: *it's 6:28 PM on the Fourth of July, and Lana pulls up to the driveway of Payne's house, killing the engine and stepping out of the car. She hasn't dressed up for the 'date' but her clothes are rather formal -- she's wearing the simple blouse and skirt she had on when she'd replied to Payne on his journal only a few hours ago*
Lana: *walks briskly up to the door of the house. If she has some sort of ill or mischievous intent it is not apparent on her features; her face displays a serene neutral expression. She knocks on the door*
Payne: *Payne isn't dressed up either, considering that his only clean outfit is the one he was already wearing; in addition to that, he's wearing a clip-on red bowtie, and is sitting in a chair by the door. Hearing the knock, he rushes over and opens it, putting on his best smile* Miss Skye! You're early by a minute. Hee hee hee...
Lana: *stares at him for a good moment before she breaks into a smile* So I am. *clasps her hands in front of her, glancing in-- she does not want to actually step inside* Don't tell me you were watching the clock. Are you ready to go?
Payne: *he was, in fact, watching the clock, but he feels it's probably better to keep that to himself* Of course. I would invite you inside, but if we don't leave soon we won't make it in time for our reservation... After you. *he gestures past her at her car*
Lana: *hums out a note and turns on her heel, walking methodically back to her vehicle. As she gets back into the driver's seat and fastens her seatbelt, Lana turns to the balding man* So. Where are we going?
Payne: Rusty's Greasy Spoon- I took my wife there for our honeymoon. *he buckles his seatbelt as well, reaching into his pocket and producing a piece of paper that he offers to Lana* I assumed you probably wouldn't know where it was, so I printed out a map from the website. Hee hee hee...
Lana: Your... honeymoon. I'm flattered. *takes the paper and glances at the intersection printed on it, folding and placing it away before she starts the engine of the car. Her tone is conversational as she shifts the stick to reverse and backs out of the drive* I've never been, no. What type of food do they serve there?
Payne: *Payne grimaces a bit when the car starts- this is no Cresta, after all- but the look quickly fades* They're famous for their seafood, although they have various other fare that is quite delicious. I'm personally rather fond of their grilled chicken sandwich.
Lana: *presses her heel down on the clutch and shifts gears, applying just the slightest amount of pressure on the accelerator after she eases off the other pedal* And your wife left all of this to go live with your mother in law?
Payne: ...Well, she is only a block away. *he glances out the window, making sure she's going the right way, before turning back* We don't really go to Rusty's often- we usually go on our anniversary, as a special thing.
Lana: *waits at a red light and then continues on-- the place is just down the street* I see. I can't fathom why she would be dissatisfied, then. *this is said dryly, with no attempt to mask the true meaning behind the words. She turns into the parking lot, and now the restaurant is fully visible. As one can expect from the name, it's just a plain diner with its name advertised in giant neon text above its flat roof. Lana... does not seem particularly surprised. She pushes her heel down on the clutch, moves the shift to neutral, and applies the brakes, turning off the ignition. She doesn't step out of the car just yet, however-- it's as if she's finally getting that dread she should have felt minutes before*
Payne: Usually we go to discotheques and such. *as the car stops, Payne gets out of the car and stretches, mumbling to himself about how much more comfortable his Cresta is, before leaning back in and tilting his head* Are you quite alright, miss Skye?
Lana: *with a calm, neutral expression* Oh, I'm fine. You needn't worry about me. *gets out of the car, shutting the door and locking it after Payne shuts his side. As she walks towards the diner, purse in hand, she remarks plainly:* And yes, Mr. Payne, I am aware my car does not remotely resemble your Cresta. As far as I am concerned however, it is not a detriment on my vehicle's part. *briskly walks on without waiting for the balding prosecutor*
Payne: *he starts sweating profusely, making a mental note about mumbling more quietly in the future, before quickly walking to catch up with Lana* It appears we're just on time for our reservation, as well. It seems that extra minute was a boon after all. Hee hee hee...
Lana: Indeed. *opens the door and steps into the diner. As there's a 'please be seated' sign, she moves towards an empty table rather than announce that they had a 'reservation' - though it's Independence Day, the place is hardly crowded or fancy enough to make such a booking necessary*
Payne: *Payne's a bit surprised by how empty it is- he'd really thought he'd need the reservation- but takes it entirely in stride* I'm sure the other people with reservations are just late. Perhaps they didn't have an extra minute?
Lana: *there's a noticeable twitch at her eye* ...You don't say. *seats herself and places her purse down beside her; a rather dumpy waitress moves to the table to hand them both a menu, and she stands there expectantly as Lana opens it and scans down the page*
Waitress: *in a rather lazy drawl* Anything to drink first?
Payne: *he sets down his menu, seeing as how he's been here many times, and nods to the waitress* I'll have a glass of water. Iced, with a slice of lemon.
Lana: Iced tea, please. Sweetened. *her eyes wander down the delectable list of menu items, clearly not having decided on one of them as of yet*
Payne: I would suggest the Greasy Special if you're unsure. It's several various types of fried food with dipping sauces.
Lana: *makes a rather sickened face* ..... I think I'll have one of the wraps. *shuts the menu, tapping a finger on its cover-- it causes her to read the place's title again as the dumpy waitress comes back with their drinks* Rusty's Greasy Spoon...
Payne: Quite the charming name, isn't it? Evokes the image of a man alone in the kitchen, cooking and frying such delicious food... *he takes his water from the waitress, nodding his thanks before taking a sip* I believe we're ready- a minute earlier than expected. Hee hee hee...
Lana: *she's in the middle of accepting her glass of iced tea, and nearly spills the drink* ............... Yes. I'll have the Chicken Caesar wrap, please. *and to Payne:* It doesn't conjure up any such image for me, I'm afraid.
Payne: And I'll have the Greasy's Fried Special. *he hands the waitress his menu, sipping from his water again* Really? Perhaps it's just the memories I have of this place... Hee hee hee.
Lana: *rests her elbows on the edge of the table, and hold her hands neatly together in the air. She speaks casually* Well, it reminds me of the name of a bar. The 'Rusty Gust'... you've been there before, correct...?
Payne: ...nkh. Y-yes... yes, I've been. I took their 'Chili challenge', as a matter of fact- and passed it with time to spare. ...*just the thought of the chili makes him start sweating, and he takes a long drink of his water*
Lana: Oh? *her eyebrows lift and she appears quite interested, leaning forward* That's quite impressive. Not many people have, or so I've heard. I've tried the challenge, myself.
Payne: Yes, I finished rather easily, but unfortunately, due to the secret ingredient, it caused me some... distress... and interrupted a trial. ...*he takes another long drink of water* But all in all it was a favorable experience.
Lana: My, my. Don't tell me-- the bartender was impressed. *takes a sip of her iced tea-- her look is definitely teasing, now*
Payne: He... seemed to be, although due to a... disagreement... we'd had beforehand, I couldn't entirely gauge his reaction.
Lana: *tilts her head* A 'disagreement'? It hardly seems appropriate for a bartender to engage in such a thing with a patron.
Payne: He took offense at my commentary on his deceased brother. *sighs and shakes his head before tapping his forehead, smirking* Apparently he can't take a joke. Hee hee hee...
Lana: *all humor ebbs away from her face--she'd heard of what happened, of course, but had somehow doubted... some aspect of this callousness. Her voice grows dangerously sharp* What sort of joke would that be, involving a dead relative? *the waitress finds that exact moment to arrive with the Special and the Chicken Caesar wrap - the latter is also deep fried, though Lana hasn't noticed it yet*
Payne: Nrgh... M... merely a comment taken the wrong way, I assure you. *Payne glances up at the waitress, pleased at the convenience of her timing for saving him, and nods politely as his food is placed in front of him- it's a hamburger and french fries... deep fried, and put on a stick. With a bowl of gravy*
Lana: *grabs her cutlery, spearing a fork into a deep fried tomato on the side of her plate. She cuts neatly down it; her grip on the utensil is terrifyingly white-knuckled. Surprisingly(?), she remains completely silent as she does so*
Payne: *grabbing his skewer, he pulls a fry off the end, putting it in his mouth and chewing it before nervously swallowing, sweat pouring down his head* Do... you know Jake Marshall personally, miss Skye?
Lana: Yes, as a matter of fact. We worked together for several years, when I was a detective. *the blade of the knife grates against the surface of the plate as she slices the tomato again; it lets out a painful noise that causes a lady a few tables down to wince* And, we're currently dating.
Payne: *gags on the bite of hamburger he's just put in his mouth, grabbing his water and gulping it down before reacting* Y-you're... dating...?!
Lana: Yes. For a few months now. *the knife grates sharply against the plate again; it's got to be intentional* Which is why, as I'm sure you've realized, I'm not all that pleased at hearing you 'joking' about his dead brother.
Lana: *there's another loud grate of the knife; this one is more sudden and high pitched than the others* Do you know, Payne, what a potentially unstable ex-con former Chief Prosecutor is capable of, when someone close to her is insulted in such a manner?
Lana: *doesn't leave him the space to respond; she drops her fork to the table with a thud, and that same hand snaps forward, reaching towards him*
Payne: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaa! *in his shock he grabs the sides of his chair and hops backwards, still clutching his Greasy Special*
Lana: *... and, predictably to those who actually know her, she grabs the salt shaker in the center of the table-her eyes follow his hop-skip backwards*
Payne: *this comes too late for Payne, and only serves to shock him more as his chair tips backwards with him still in it, clutching his skewer. This is just before his head cracks against the table behind him, sending the food on it flying into the air*
Payne: *the food arcs, landing on the table behind Lana and startling the waitress who's tending to that table, who promptly shrieks and drops her tray of food... tripping another waitress who's walking into the room and carrying another tray of food*
Lana: *hand on the salt shaker, her eyes widen at the sudden amount of mess that has occurred in the diner*
Payne: *the food from this waitress goes flying into the fish tank standing on the far side of the room, tipping it and the heavy table it's on- it slams into a wall, shattering the first tank and denting the wall itself. A diner coming out of the bathroom that a fish landed in front of slips on it, sending the fish flying into the air and him into yet another table... sending a pile of dirty plates into the air*
Payne: *the plates fly all around the room, shattering and sending shards of porcelain flying- more importantly, however, is the one that slams directly into the overhead lamp, sending sparks showering down that light several of the tables on fire. As if to add insult to injury, the flying fish slams directly into Payne's face as he tries to get up, forcing him to fall right back onto the floor*
Lana: ......... *just... just... stares at the mess and the fire and the fish and Payne himself for one looooooong, stretched out moment... and clasps a hand to her mouth, laughing*
Lana: *... she keeps on laughing, even as she moves to stand and retrieve the fire extinguisher of the diner-- everything aside, she does still feel obligated to step in; people are needed to help extinguish those fires before they grow out of control, and tend to any significant injuries...*
Payne: *Payne, however, is unconscious after two hits to the head and a large zebrafish to the face, and is unaware of the events around him*
Lana: *some time later--and some minor sprains, cuts and bruises patched up, fires extinguished, and aquarium fish saved, Lana pulls up to the driveway of Payne's house once more. The body of the still-unconscious prosecutor is splayed out on the passenger seat of the car, seatbelt fastned. She cuts the engine and leans over, releasing the seatbelt and giving the man two firm pats--nearly slaps-- to the face* Payne. Mr. Payne.
Payne: *Payne slowly comes awake, flinching as he feels the pain in the back of his head and blinking as he notices his glasses are broken* U... uh? What... where are we? What happened?
Lana: *undoes her own seatbelt, and opens up the driver's side of the door* We're back at your house. I'm dropping you off. You... left quite a mark on the diner, before you blacked out.
Payne: A-ah... *he takes his glasses off, slipping them in his pocket and taking out another pair from the other pocket* I'm afraid I ruined our evening, Miss Skye. *The pain in his head is doubled by the sudden start of the fireworks show over the river, booming and flashing as he clutches his head* ...Am I allowed to go back there again?
Lana: Well, that depends on whether or not you're going there to cover the fairly hefty damage bill I'm sure they've got waiting. *rounds the car, opening the passenger door for the man. Close by, another set of fireworks erupt. These are crimson red, and the woman looks up and over to them, smiling contentedly* And no, I wouldn't say that you ruined our evening, Winston. If anything, you've made it... a very memorable, enjoyable one.
Payne: R-really? *he shakily stands, glancing up at the sky, where a burst of several green fireworks choose to erupt- despite the noise that is sending roaring pain through his head, they're really not as awful as he assumed* Well, I'm glad to have given you an evening to remember, Miss Skye. ...A minute earlier than you had planned for. Hee hee hee...
Lana: *there's a twitch at her eye again, and her hands raise almost as if to strangle the small man* ... Ah ha. Ah, I'd almost forgotten. *reaches into the car, taking out a brown paper bag* Your... burger and fry kabob... and the fish that landed on your head. *her voice quiets slightly, and is nearly obscured by another loud burst of light in the air* We couldn't save that one on time and Brenda, our waitress, said she wanted you to have its remains.
Payne: *he takes the bag, a confused look on his face as he opens it and looks inside- there is indeed a large fish in the bag under his kebab... and it's been fried.* ...Thank you, miss Skye. ...And thank you for your company this evening.
Lana: *smiles-- sincerely, it seems* You're welcome. Goodnight, Mr. Payne. *she moves to the driver's side of the car again, opening up the door*
Payne: *he makes as if he's going to walk over and say or do something, but as he turns his head towards his house he stops in dead shock, staring at something obscured by the darkness* Y-yes... goodnight, Miss Skye. See you later. *he steps slowly towards his house*
Lana: *raises an eyebrow-- it is too dark to see anything but a large, dark blur in the driveway (a vehicle?) but seeing as there's no immediate threat or anything of the sort, she says a quiet "Goodnight", steps into her car, turns the key in the ignition, backs out of the driveway, and heads off. She doesn't look back or wave*
Payne: *Payne barely notices, as he stares in horror- in the darkness he can barely see it himself, but the flashes of light from the fireworks illuminate a shape in his driveway... the shape of his Cresta, keyed and egged. The back window is shattered, and on the windshield is printed "Winston, you idiot!" in red spray-paint*
Payne: *he walks over to the car, resting his hand on the window and hanging his head, which gives him a nice view of the bag with the fish in it as the sky is lit by the flashes of light* ...I really hate the Fourth of July...
Lana: *it's 6:28 PM on the Fourth of July, and Lana pulls up to the driveway of Payne's house, killing the engine and stepping out of the car. She hasn't dressed up for the 'date' but her clothes are rather formal -- she's wearing the simple blouse and skirt she had on when she'd replied to Payne on his journal only a few hours ago*
Lana: *walks briskly up to the door of the house. If she has some sort of ill or mischievous intent it is not apparent on her features; her face displays a serene neutral expression. She knocks on the door*
Payne: *Payne isn't dressed up either, considering that his only clean outfit is the one he was already wearing; in addition to that, he's wearing a clip-on red bowtie, and is sitting in a chair by the door. Hearing the knock, he rushes over and opens it, putting on his best smile* Miss Skye! You're early by a minute. Hee hee hee...
Lana: *stares at him for a good moment before she breaks into a smile* So I am. *clasps her hands in front of her, glancing in-- she does not want to actually step inside* Don't tell me you were watching the clock. Are you ready to go?
Payne: *he was, in fact, watching the clock, but he feels it's probably better to keep that to himself* Of course. I would invite you inside, but if we don't leave soon we won't make it in time for our reservation... After you. *he gestures past her at her car*
Lana: *hums out a note and turns on her heel, walking methodically back to her vehicle. As she gets back into the driver's seat and fastens her seatbelt, Lana turns to the balding man* So. Where are we going?
Payne: Rusty's Greasy Spoon- I took my wife there for our honeymoon. *he buckles his seatbelt as well, reaching into his pocket and producing a piece of paper that he offers to Lana* I assumed you probably wouldn't know where it was, so I printed out a map from the website. Hee hee hee...
Lana: Your... honeymoon. I'm flattered. *takes the paper and glances at the intersection printed on it, folding and placing it away before she starts the engine of the car. Her tone is conversational as she shifts the stick to reverse and backs out of the drive* I've never been, no. What type of food do they serve there?
Payne: *Payne grimaces a bit when the car starts- this is no Cresta, after all- but the look quickly fades* They're famous for their seafood, although they have various other fare that is quite delicious. I'm personally rather fond of their grilled chicken sandwich.
Lana: *presses her heel down on the clutch and shifts gears, applying just the slightest amount of pressure on the accelerator after she eases off the other pedal* And your wife left all of this to go live with your mother in law?
Payne: ...Well, she is only a block away. *he glances out the window, making sure she's going the right way, before turning back* We don't really go to Rusty's often- we usually go on our anniversary, as a special thing.
Lana: *waits at a red light and then continues on-- the place is just down the street* I see. I can't fathom why she would be dissatisfied, then. *this is said dryly, with no attempt to mask the true meaning behind the words. She turns into the parking lot, and now the restaurant is fully visible. As one can expect from the name, it's just a plain diner with its name advertised in giant neon text above its flat roof. Lana... does not seem particularly surprised. She pushes her heel down on the clutch, moves the shift to neutral, and applies the brakes, turning off the ignition. She doesn't step out of the car just yet, however-- it's as if she's finally getting that dread she should have felt minutes before*
Payne: Usually we go to discotheques and such. *as the car stops, Payne gets out of the car and stretches, mumbling to himself about how much more comfortable his Cresta is, before leaning back in and tilting his head* Are you quite alright, miss Skye?
Lana: *with a calm, neutral expression* Oh, I'm fine. You needn't worry about me. *gets out of the car, shutting the door and locking it after Payne shuts his side. As she walks towards the diner, purse in hand, she remarks plainly:* And yes, Mr. Payne, I am aware my car does not remotely resemble your Cresta. As far as I am concerned however, it is not a detriment on my vehicle's part. *briskly walks on without waiting for the balding prosecutor*
Payne: *he starts sweating profusely, making a mental note about mumbling more quietly in the future, before quickly walking to catch up with Lana* It appears we're just on time for our reservation, as well. It seems that extra minute was a boon after all. Hee hee hee...
Lana: Indeed. *opens the door and steps into the diner. As there's a 'please be seated' sign, she moves towards an empty table rather than announce that they had a 'reservation' - though it's Independence Day, the place is hardly crowded or fancy enough to make such a booking necessary*
Payne: *Payne's a bit surprised by how empty it is- he'd really thought he'd need the reservation- but takes it entirely in stride* I'm sure the other people with reservations are just late. Perhaps they didn't have an extra minute?
Lana: *there's a noticeable twitch at her eye* ...You don't say. *seats herself and places her purse down beside her; a rather dumpy waitress moves to the table to hand them both a menu, and she stands there expectantly as Lana opens it and scans down the page*
Waitress: *in a rather lazy drawl* Anything to drink first?
Payne: *he sets down his menu, seeing as how he's been here many times, and nods to the waitress* I'll have a glass of water. Iced, with a slice of lemon.
Lana: Iced tea, please. Sweetened. *her eyes wander down the delectable list of menu items, clearly not having decided on one of them as of yet*
Payne: I would suggest the Greasy Special if you're unsure. It's several various types of fried food with dipping sauces.
Lana: *makes a rather sickened face* ..... I think I'll have one of the wraps. *shuts the menu, tapping a finger on its cover-- it causes her to read the place's title again as the dumpy waitress comes back with their drinks* Rusty's Greasy Spoon...
Payne: Quite the charming name, isn't it? Evokes the image of a man alone in the kitchen, cooking and frying such delicious food... *he takes his water from the waitress, nodding his thanks before taking a sip* I believe we're ready- a minute earlier than expected. Hee hee hee...
Lana: *she's in the middle of accepting her glass of iced tea, and nearly spills the drink* ............... Yes. I'll have the Chicken Caesar wrap, please. *and to Payne:* It doesn't conjure up any such image for me, I'm afraid.
Payne: And I'll have the Greasy's Fried Special. *he hands the waitress his menu, sipping from his water again* Really? Perhaps it's just the memories I have of this place... Hee hee hee.
Lana: *rests her elbows on the edge of the table, and hold her hands neatly together in the air. She speaks casually* Well, it reminds me of the name of a bar. The 'Rusty Gust'... you've been there before, correct...?
Payne: ...nkh. Y-yes... yes, I've been. I took their 'Chili challenge', as a matter of fact- and passed it with time to spare. ...*just the thought of the chili makes him start sweating, and he takes a long drink of his water*
Lana: Oh? *her eyebrows lift and she appears quite interested, leaning forward* That's quite impressive. Not many people have, or so I've heard. I've tried the challenge, myself.
Payne: Yes, I finished rather easily, but unfortunately, due to the secret ingredient, it caused me some... distress... and interrupted a trial. ...*he takes another long drink of water* But all in all it was a favorable experience.
Lana: My, my. Don't tell me-- the bartender was impressed. *takes a sip of her iced tea-- her look is definitely teasing, now*
Payne: He... seemed to be, although due to a... disagreement... we'd had beforehand, I couldn't entirely gauge his reaction.
Lana: *tilts her head* A 'disagreement'? It hardly seems appropriate for a bartender to engage in such a thing with a patron.
Payne: He took offense at my commentary on his deceased brother. *sighs and shakes his head before tapping his forehead, smirking* Apparently he can't take a joke. Hee hee hee...
Lana: *all humor ebbs away from her face--she'd heard of what happened, of course, but had somehow doubted... some aspect of this callousness. Her voice grows dangerously sharp* What sort of joke would that be, involving a dead relative? *the waitress finds that exact moment to arrive with the Special and the Chicken Caesar wrap - the latter is also deep fried, though Lana hasn't noticed it yet*
Payne: Nrgh... M... merely a comment taken the wrong way, I assure you. *Payne glances up at the waitress, pleased at the convenience of her timing for saving him, and nods politely as his food is placed in front of him- it's a hamburger and french fries... deep fried, and put on a stick. With a bowl of gravy*
Lana: *grabs her cutlery, spearing a fork into a deep fried tomato on the side of her plate. She cuts neatly down it; her grip on the utensil is terrifyingly white-knuckled. Surprisingly(?), she remains completely silent as she does so*
Payne: *grabbing his skewer, he pulls a fry off the end, putting it in his mouth and chewing it before nervously swallowing, sweat pouring down his head* Do... you know Jake Marshall personally, miss Skye?
Lana: Yes, as a matter of fact. We worked together for several years, when I was a detective. *the blade of the knife grates against the surface of the plate as she slices the tomato again; it lets out a painful noise that causes a lady a few tables down to wince* And, we're currently dating.
Payne: *gags on the bite of hamburger he's just put in his mouth, grabbing his water and gulping it down before reacting* Y-you're... dating...?!
Lana: Yes. For a few months now. *the knife grates sharply against the plate again; it's got to be intentional* Which is why, as I'm sure you've realized, I'm not all that pleased at hearing you 'joking' about his dead brother.
Lana: *there's another loud grate of the knife; this one is more sudden and high pitched than the others* Do you know, Payne, what a potentially unstable ex-con former Chief Prosecutor is capable of, when someone close to her is insulted in such a manner?
Lana: *doesn't leave him the space to respond; she drops her fork to the table with a thud, and that same hand snaps forward, reaching towards him*
Payne: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaa! *in his shock he grabs the sides of his chair and hops backwards, still clutching his Greasy Special*
Lana: *... and, predictably to those who actually know her, she grabs the salt shaker in the center of the table-her eyes follow his hop-skip backwards*
Payne: *this comes too late for Payne, and only serves to shock him more as his chair tips backwards with him still in it, clutching his skewer. This is just before his head cracks against the table behind him, sending the food on it flying into the air*
Payne: *the food arcs, landing on the table behind Lana and startling the waitress who's tending to that table, who promptly shrieks and drops her tray of food... tripping another waitress who's walking into the room and carrying another tray of food*
Lana: *hand on the salt shaker, her eyes widen at the sudden amount of mess that has occurred in the diner*
Payne: *the food from this waitress goes flying into the fish tank standing on the far side of the room, tipping it and the heavy table it's on- it slams into a wall, shattering the first tank and denting the wall itself. A diner coming out of the bathroom that a fish landed in front of slips on it, sending the fish flying into the air and him into yet another table... sending a pile of dirty plates into the air*
Payne: *the plates fly all around the room, shattering and sending shards of porcelain flying- more importantly, however, is the one that slams directly into the overhead lamp, sending sparks showering down that light several of the tables on fire. As if to add insult to injury, the flying fish slams directly into Payne's face as he tries to get up, forcing him to fall right back onto the floor*
Lana: ......... *just... just... stares at the mess and the fire and the fish and Payne himself for one looooooong, stretched out moment... and clasps a hand to her mouth, laughing*
Lana: *... she keeps on laughing, even as she moves to stand and retrieve the fire extinguisher of the diner-- everything aside, she does still feel obligated to step in; people are needed to help extinguish those fires before they grow out of control, and tend to any significant injuries...*
Payne: *Payne, however, is unconscious after two hits to the head and a large zebrafish to the face, and is unaware of the events around him*
Lana: *some time later--and some minor sprains, cuts and bruises patched up, fires extinguished, and aquarium fish saved, Lana pulls up to the driveway of Payne's house once more. The body of the still-unconscious prosecutor is splayed out on the passenger seat of the car, seatbelt fastned. She cuts the engine and leans over, releasing the seatbelt and giving the man two firm pats--nearly slaps-- to the face* Payne. Mr. Payne.
Payne: *Payne slowly comes awake, flinching as he feels the pain in the back of his head and blinking as he notices his glasses are broken* U... uh? What... where are we? What happened?
Lana: *undoes her own seatbelt, and opens up the driver's side of the door* We're back at your house. I'm dropping you off. You... left quite a mark on the diner, before you blacked out.
Payne: A-ah... *he takes his glasses off, slipping them in his pocket and taking out another pair from the other pocket* I'm afraid I ruined our evening, Miss Skye. *The pain in his head is doubled by the sudden start of the fireworks show over the river, booming and flashing as he clutches his head* ...Am I allowed to go back there again?
Lana: Well, that depends on whether or not you're going there to cover the fairly hefty damage bill I'm sure they've got waiting. *rounds the car, opening the passenger door for the man. Close by, another set of fireworks erupt. These are crimson red, and the woman looks up and over to them, smiling contentedly* And no, I wouldn't say that you ruined our evening, Winston. If anything, you've made it... a very memorable, enjoyable one.
Payne: R-really? *he shakily stands, glancing up at the sky, where a burst of several green fireworks choose to erupt- despite the noise that is sending roaring pain through his head, they're really not as awful as he assumed* Well, I'm glad to have given you an evening to remember, Miss Skye. ...A minute earlier than you had planned for. Hee hee hee...
Lana: *there's a twitch at her eye again, and her hands raise almost as if to strangle the small man* ... Ah ha. Ah, I'd almost forgotten. *reaches into the car, taking out a brown paper bag* Your... burger and fry kabob... and the fish that landed on your head. *her voice quiets slightly, and is nearly obscured by another loud burst of light in the air* We couldn't save that one on time and Brenda, our waitress, said she wanted you to have its remains.
Payne: *he takes the bag, a confused look on his face as he opens it and looks inside- there is indeed a large fish in the bag under his kebab... and it's been fried.* ...Thank you, miss Skye. ...And thank you for your company this evening.
Lana: *smiles-- sincerely, it seems* You're welcome. Goodnight, Mr. Payne. *she moves to the driver's side of the car again, opening up the door*
Payne: *he makes as if he's going to walk over and say or do something, but as he turns his head towards his house he stops in dead shock, staring at something obscured by the darkness* Y-yes... goodnight, Miss Skye. See you later. *he steps slowly towards his house*
Lana: *raises an eyebrow-- it is too dark to see anything but a large, dark blur in the driveway (a vehicle?) but seeing as there's no immediate threat or anything of the sort, she says a quiet "Goodnight", steps into her car, turns the key in the ignition, backs out of the driveway, and heads off. She doesn't look back or wave*
Payne: *Payne barely notices, as he stares in horror- in the darkness he can barely see it himself, but the flashes of light from the fireworks illuminate a shape in his driveway... the shape of his Cresta, keyed and egged. The back window is shattered, and on the windshield is printed "Winston, you idiot!" in red spray-paint*
Payne: *he walks over to the car, resting his hand on the window and hanging his head, which gives him a nice view of the bag with the fish in it as the sky is lit by the flashes of light* ...I really hate the Fourth of July...