The good, the bad
Log-dump, journal/essay to come shortly
The Good:
Sabitha is busy trying not to yawn into her coffee. It's an ungodly early hour - the sun is up, but only just barely, and yet the restaurant downstairs is already bustling with patrons doing the same as Sabby. They're mostly dressed the same, too - neatly professional, in a town buzzing with the anticipation of a heated Senatorial vote. A hundred lobbyists all hoping to make their case, whichever side they're on. And a hundred lobbyists jockying for a seat at a table by themselves, a hot cup of coffee, the morning paper, and a warm muffin. Sabby has procured all four.
Travis isn't lobbying for his own table, however. And armed with his own mug and a bowl of fruit, he strides across the room from behind, slides around the table and eases into the seat facing her. "Mind if I join you?"
"I'm sorry, I'm-" Sabby begins without looking up from her paper before breaking off, looking up, and staring. Her jaw unhinges just a tad. The expression soon melts into an uncontrolled yawn, smothered under a raised hand, and then she questions, in dry disbelief. "Travis? What are you /doing/ here?" And, uh, good to see you?
"Breakfast meeting with a client?" Travis says, a quick smile flashing across his face. He sips at the coffee before setting the plate and mug down. "Figured it'd been a while since I was out of New York. And being a Saturday, I expected you'd at least have the breakfast timeslot open, though hopefully some time later in the day as well. So surprise."
Sabitha smiles, then, an echoing response to his. It's a little uncertain - or perhaps disbelieving - and her eyes linger on him for a long minute as if he might disappear. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up to conversation again. "Oh! Breakfast. Yes." She lifts her paper in indication, and then folds it neatly over. "Trying to catch up on the newest gossip." A pause, and then, "You came all the way to DC to see me?"
"Well, I don't know anyone else in the area," Travis shrugs. "Though really, the Lincoln Memorial is right up there. I'd say... half-n-half, you 'n Abe." He begins pulling the paper off the muffing and sets it aside on the table.
Sabitha's smile twitches to a grin, and she chokes back a laugh. "Well. I'm told the sights aren't much to see, once you work through the tourists, but I haven't caught any of them since I was thirteen, so I don't think I can judge," she shares. "If you get up close and personal with Abe while I'm doing business, make sure you get a picture for me, hm?"
"Will do," Travis agrees. "Though I'll have to get one of those disposables. I don't think I own a camera. Well, not a /tourist's/ camera." Ahem. "So. Business. What's your secretary's number? I'd like to make an appointment for tonight. Even if it's late."
Sabitha lifts a brow elegantly, and manages a cool look over a sip of coffee before she intones. "My schedule is terribly busy. I hope you have something worthwhile to discuss?" A grin ruins the attempt, and she slides backwards and frowns abruptly. "Oh, hell. I wish I'd know you were coming. I wouldn't have scheduled anything for dinner. I won't be back until ten, probably. Although I think I've got a patch in the afternoon..." She frowns absently, already digging in her purse for her schedule.
"What, and ruined the effect? Your face was priceless," Travis smirks at that. "Afternoon is fine. And after 10. I hear it looks nice after dark anyways, and being summer, 10 should be fine. And there's always tomorrow. Because there's a hold on your return ticket, waiting for your call to confirm. Since Monday's a holiday anyways. Might as well spend it here, hmm? Let Freedom ring."
Sabitha glances up with surprise. "Until Mond.." She breaks off again, and stares at him for a moment before nodding. There's a hint of bafflement in her eyes. "I could... we could do that. Maybe. I'd have to call..." A pause, and she rips a sheet of paper from her pad and sets to scribbling out phone numbers and what little free time is in her schedule. Her eyes flick up to him, smiling. "So Abe. What else is on your agenda?"
Travis pops the last of the muffin in his mouth, chasing it down with the coffee, which he then waves one toward one of the waiters for a refill. "Haven't decided yet, really. I hear the FBI gives tours. Might check that out while you're with the important people."
Sabitha slides the paper toward him, indicating with a pen. "I've got an interview this morning" - a pause to glance at her watch - "Hell. In forty-five minutes. Two lunch meetings, two hours freeish in the afternoon, several..." She waves a hand and rolls her eyes upward. "Nevermind. I'll be back 9:30ish, I think. And you have my cell, I've got that on me." Her tone varies between annoyed and briskly businesslike. Several days in Washington have not, perhaps, done her good.
"Well, then," Travis says, peering over the paper. "Let's meet right at the capitol steps then, at 2. Can decide where to go from there. If you want to walk around, or just get a coffee or whatever you feel like after battling it out with these guys. And tonight. We can see a show or just walk or whatever."
Sabitha watches him as he studies the paper, with a peculiar expression that lingers for a moment before she notes it and wipes it evenly away with a sip of coffee. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Goodness knows I'll need a bit of air by then. Her fingers curl round her mug, and her gaze alternates between Travis and her scribbled out schedule."
"I'm not stressing you out more by being here, am I?" Travis asks suddenly, looking up from the paper to try to meet her gaze. "Because when you're busy... even scheduling in time for something relaxing...".
Sabitha pulls her gaze from the paper to Travis, startled. "What? No... no! No, you're not." She flashes a smile, briefly. "I'm glad you're here. I just don't think I've quite.. processed it properly yet." A pause, and she adds apologetically, "I may not be the best company. It's been... a long week." Or two. Or three.
"Okay, if you're sure," Travis nods. "And I didn't come down expecting you to keep me entertained. So hopefully can keep you sane amidst all these politicians."
Sabitha's smile returns, geniune. "Why Travis," she teases. "That's almost sweet of you." Another quick glance at her watch, and she quickly dissects the last of her muffin. "Hell. I wish I weren't so busy. It's a rare thing, to get you to myself for extended periods of time." Another yawn sneaks in. "You've just gotten here, and I've got to run off already."
"Don't let it get out," Travis says, mock stare crossing his features. "I've got a reputation to maintain. But don't let me keep you, go on, go on," he says, waving her off. "Work to do. We'll have fun later on."
Sabitha's lips twitch, and then she takes a moment to collect herself and stands. "Oh! Do you want me to see if I can get you a key, so you can get into my room while I'm out?" She studies him uncertainly for a moment. "If you wanted to shower or anything."
"Who says I need a key," Travis winks, a faint smirk there. "But sure, I suppose a key would be appreciated. By the management and me."
Sabitha laughs shortly, and then leans down for a quick kiss. Stolen on her way out. "I like to pretend I live a normal life now and again," she teases, straightening. "I'll stop by and ask on the way out, then. I don't think it will be a problem." Her brows lift suggestively. "Apparently, money can buy a lot of things, including friendly service. Who knew?"
"Oh, everyone knows that, Sabby," Travis says, smiling back as her. "Most people just don't know how /much/ it takes for that. See you at 2 then. Good luck."
"Yeah." Sabby pauses, lingering for a moment to watch him with thoughts occupied elsewhere. A quick smile, and her attention snaps back into place. She adds, "I'm glad you came. I'll see you later!" And then she's rushing from the room, already running late for her first appointment.
Travis remains seated at the precariously claimed table for a while longer, still sipping at the coffee and reading the discarded newspaper. The smile remains on his face for a while longer as well, now mostly to himself. Something right, after all...
The Bad:
Autumn Lights Apts #510 - Travis(#2937RCA)
When you have a few minutes to prepare, it's amazing what one can accomplish. When you have the time it takes to cross a few miles in New York City in a cab or on the subway... well, this is how novels are written. So Travis, while waiting for Sabby to arrive, has not only mixed up some fresh juice and iced tea, but has also swiffered the hardwood floors, dusted down some of the furniture, and even knocked down a little spider who had been artfully decorating one of the corners along the high-ceiling. It's been a busy couple weeks, what can he say?
Sabitha is impressed. Or she would be, if she realized the effort, or were paying attention to such things. She's been home and to the SIN house before her call, so she's freshly showered and neatly (and comfortably) dressed by the time she shows up and raps shortly on Travis's door. She looks perhaps a little distracted, but otherwise typically Sabby.
By now, the cleaning materials have been stowed and Travis has washed up a bit himself, enough to at least be presentable when the door swings open. "Hi there," he says, holding the door open for her. "Come on in. Got some ice water," he says, pointing toward the sweating glasses on the counter, "but there's juice, iced tea... the usual if you'd rather."
Sabitha rubs her hands briskly against the thighs of her jeans and flashes a quick, distracted smile. "No, water is great," she answers, and slides in and toward the glasses. She glances briefly over her shoulder as she claims one. "You've got a bit, right?" Just.. erm.. doublechecking. Nervous? No! Why would you say that?
Travis lifts his own glass from the counter, heading toward the ever-so-popular couch and settling down. "Yeah, of course." That she's nervous is floating all over the room by now. And Travis would probably be experiencing a bit more of the same if he knew the /reason/ for the nerves. "Have a seat," he says, nodding toward the other end of the sofa. "What's up?"
Sabitha forces the ball of nerves far down in her stomach and follows Travis to the couch. There's a moment of preparation, in the form of settling in at one end, with her back against the arm, and sipping at her water and fidgeting into just the right position. And then finally she lowers her glass to rest lightly against her knee. "I'm not sure if you're aware," she finally begins, in a rush of words that hints at a prepared speech. "But I often attend various events with various men, as a part of my... job. For Ms. Frost. Cultivating connections, you might say." A very brief pause; her finger twitches against her glass. "Sometimes it's a bit more. Longer exposure, a few dinners, harmless flirtation. Dancing." She levels her gaze on him, and inhales. "But I find myself increasingly at a point where I need to know exactly where my lines are." Her expression is expectant. She is, apparently, expecting him to supply those lines. After a breath, she thinks to clarify. "Where you want my lines to be."
Travis watches Sabby over his glass a moment before setting it aside on the table. "Was wondering who'd bring it up first. Kinda surprised it didn't in DC. But that's what I get for just dropping in unannounced." His eyes wander a moment, much easier to put thoughts together when he's not looking directly at her. "I understand the games. I understand the tools and doing what you can to make things work. What I've been trying to understand is being in a place where these 'lines,' if that's what they're called, well, where there are lines at all and lines that matter. Even if it doesn't seem like it... well, I do spend time thinking about you when we're not together," he adds finally ending the looking around her to settle on her face.
Sabitha smiles at the last, but it's brief and, yes, distracted. Her eyes latch onto his, and she nods shortly. One hand spreads against her knee while the other holds her water tightly. "I know," she answers carefully. "And I'm sorry to have to push like this. But things are..." She pauses a moment in thought, lips pursing, and then continues. "Maybe it won't ever come to anything. But I really feel... I think it could be an issue, and I don't want to find myself in a situation and not... know."
"So..." Travis begins slowly, "Are you asking if I mind if you see other men, if we're ready to sleep with each other, if we should send out Christmas cards together this year, or all of the above?" A moment later, he continues. "Sorry, maybe it's not the time to be glib. So you want to know where I stand, here it is. You matter to me. Which, if you knew any of my past... 'relationships,' if you want to call them that... that's saying a great deal. You matter enough for me to think beyond today. Which for work is like breathing. For sex, it's just not natural. Lines? Do I mind if you play the game? Not at all. You do what you gotta. Would I be upset if I knew you were sleeping with one your assignments. Damn straight."
Sabitha frowns slightly, and frustration rises in swirling emotion at the glibness. Her frown eases, though the scent of frustration does not, as he continues, and she forces an even nod. "No sex, then. What else?" Sabby, it seems, doesn't actually have any personal lines of her own on this matter.
"What else?" Travis' reply is quick, just a bit sharp. The frustration is noted, matched even. "Do you want my grocery list? Sabby, it's hard enough to work through what /I/ want, let alone trying to read your mind with what /you/ want. Half of the things we do... I swore I'd never do. Distained people who went all stupid over their beau of the week. But with you, I'm finding myself doing them. And not really because I feel obligated to or it's what I should do to be a good boyfriend, but because I really like you and like spending time with you. So chinese and some wine and a movie, broadway shows--however lame it seems--well, it's not who I ever expected myself to be. If you want someone confident in the firing range, at a high-class society event, at your local pool hall, hell, even in bed, I'm your man. But if you expect me to try to steer this relationship by myself, well sorry, that's something I don't know about yet, so you'll just have to do with someone who doesn't have it all together. be
cause before you, I didn't /do/ relationships. No, I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do with other men. If you want to talk about it, fine, I'll talk. But I'm not going to mandate your life, because that'd mean squat to either of us."
Frustration edges higher, now clear on her face, until it merges into anger, and her grip on the glass tightens until her knuckles are white. "Are you fucking /kidding/ me?" she finally explodes, staring hard at him in disbelief. "Steer this relationship by /yourself?/ What the /hell/ have I been doing for the past three months? Have I somehow been /unclear/ in my intentions? Vague? I think I've been pretty /damn/ patient, Travis." She stands, then, an upward explosion as she can't quite contain herself in stillness anymore. The glass is abandoned, and she paces sharply. "So yes. Travis. I /do/ want your grocery list. I want to know if you have a problem with flirting. With hand holding. With dancing. With kissing. Because I can't fucking /read/ you if I don't force you to spell it out, and I can't keep dodging things with dangerous men without knowing just how far I'm leading them and how far I'm not. I'm sorry if this /bothers/ you, but there's not really anything I can do about that right now." She pauses
in her pacing to stare at him in angry challenge. Have we mentioned that it's been a very tense week?
"Yes, Sabby, there's been many times when it's been very vague and unclear," Travis says, voice level, neither cool nor heated. Which likely means he's trying very hard to control it. "Whether it's your fault, mine, neither or both, half the time we're together, I don't know if I should be staying or leaving. Because we're /not/ a normal couple, whatever the hell that means. Normal couples /don't/ fight, make up and sleep with each other /before/ they start dating and enjoy nice quiet dinners followed by a cab ride home /after./ But now I don't know if you want to try to be a normal couple or just accept that we're gonna be different. But 'winging it' sure isn't working. When I try to be the good boyfriend. Well, obviously the broadway thing was lame. And ice cream and a movie gets my manhood insulted. But when I try to be the old me... then I'm cold or distant and we end up arguing. So yes, it is all perfectly vague and confusing."
Sabitha stares at him, dumbfounded. "Like /hell/," she replies. Her tone drops to match his unconsciously, cool and even and quietly pissed as hell. "Like /hell/ I haven't told you what I want. When I have a good time. Encouraged you and praised you and /especially/ like hell I insulted your manhood when I have been /throwing/ myself at you for fucking /weeks/." Her tone unfortunately rises as she speaks, and she finally throws her hands up and paces across the floor again. "Fuck it, Travis. Every time we have one of these conversations, it's you making excuses for your lousy track record with relationships and me telling you it's ok. Well you know what? It's not ok anymore. They're excuses. If you want to do this, do it. If you don't, then fucking /tell me/ and I'll sure as hell find someone who does. Or do it on my own." There's a jerk of her chin upward, a steadfast 'don't need nobody' expression.
"You're kidding me, right?" Travis throws a stare her way, wincing at her words, not so much at the raised voice as the tsunami of emotions that keep slamming into him. "Because if not, you're sure BSing yourself. Yes, you've said when you've had a good time. And we've done a movie and order in several times lately. Yes, you told me you were glad to see me in DC. But pretty obvious the times I deserve praise are a shock. But no, you haven't told me what you want. Except that you wanted to sleep with me right after one of the biggest turn-offs you could feed a guy. So what /do/ you want? Sex? I can oblige, though I was under the impression that if you're dating it's supposed to mean something too. Not just showing up when you've had a rough day and using each other to vent some stress." Oh, he can lace those words with barbs too, if they're trading insult.
Sabitha raises a hand briefly to rub at the bridge of her nose. With every passing minute, more scents spiral toward Travis, ranging from rage to desperation to a low level stubborn fear. Speaking of emotions. "It is not about the /sex/, Travis," she replies shortly. "And I sure as /hell/ haven't noticed myself getting laid after any of my recent stressful days. And there have been one or two. So don't you /dare/ throw that at me. Not when you were right there, too!" Bitterness laces her voice, and she bounces up on her toes, then rocks backward, hard. "I mean, /fuck/, Travis! Are you /looking/ for reasons to make this not work? Did it ever occur to you that I might be /honest/ when I say I enjoy something?"
"I have no clue what that is supposed to mean," Travis says, folding his arms carefully across his chest. "No, I'm not looking to not make it work. Even I'm not that much a masochist. Why would I not believe you? And obviously I enjoy it too. Else I'd just move and change my number. So despite the recurring blow-ups, we both are enjoying spending time together. But obviously that's not enough. Because obviously you're expecting something more, something you've been 'pretty /damn/ patiently' waiting for. And other than sex, which I just said I thought you didn't want just some random act, and you just said it's not about anyways... I don't know what the hell you're waiting for."
Sabitha stares steadfastly at Travis, and as quickly as the emotions flared up, they spiral down to a tolerable level. Her pacing carries her back to the couch, and she collapses into the corner again. She shifts again, to watch him. Silently. Something's going on in her head, but even she doesn't know quite what it is. "Ok," she answers after a long moment. "Ok. You're right." She rubs at the bridge of her nose again, and then continues. "Fine. Sex. Hell yes, I would like some. I would have liked some weeks ago. I am trying to be patient with whatever pacing you have going on, Travis, but it's just /sex/. If we're together, it's not random /or/ the meaning of everything. Trying to make it something it's not is just..." A pause, a shake of her head, and her tone continues evenly and quietly. "I'm sorry if I've been unclear about that. But that's not what /this/ is about, ok? I just really..." She breaks off and then continues, with a quiet note of pleading in her voice. "I just really need to know what.. I re
ally need some guidelines. I'm afraid things will get out of control if I don't have them."
The emotional plunges really are unnerving. Because it's fine to experience rage with someone. Fine to experience reconcilation. But bouncing between them... Travis takes a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair, a while in forming a response. "Okay..." he begins, drawing the word out. Apparantly not quite fully formulated, but moving right along. "I suppose that's easier to work with. And... much clearer. And boundaries? It's... hard to say what actions are too much. Because if I saw you having dinner with some guy... even flirting. I guess I'd give you the benefit of the doubt. But... if you were... enjoying yourself. Man, that's not very helpful, I guess." Enter Jealous Travis, now with ultra-depressant offensive action.
And there's a disturbing spike of guilt at that one, although Sabby keeps any of it from her features. "I doubt you'd ever see it, if it helps?" she offers lamely, with an expression that says she knows just how lame it is. Her head rolls back against the couch, and her eyes settle on the ceiling. "Hell. I'm not cut out for this," she mutters quietly, under her breath, and then louder to Travis, "With them, it's just a game. I promise. Even if I weren't with you. And didn't have boundries. It'd still be a game." Her eyes flick down to him. "With them."
Well, /that's/ reassuring. Though maybe exactly enough for Travis. "Then that's what I need to know. As long as you're clear what's game and what's real... I'm satisfied. And with that other matter cleared up... I think we can keep each other from looking elsewhere."
Sabitha rolls her eyes upward again. "Ok," she answers evenly. There's still a sense of settling about her as emotions cool, and any possible inuendo in the last is apparently missed completely in her distracted mind. Because her next move is to ask, out of the blue, "When you were investigating Sabella, did you meet anyone named Mark? French guy?" Her tone is tight, but even. Just a nagging question she's been dying to have tied up.
"I can't tell you now all the things that you can and can't do. Because I don't know," Travis elaborates slightly. "But if we're together... I just want to know that... we're together. If there's something you're not sure about... you can ask. I guess I may have to do the same." His eyes flicker slightly at the mention of Sabella and Mark. Point in case. "I did. He lives in this building. Neighbors, of a sort."
Sabitha smiles just slightly at the first, and she nods. "Please. I'd appreciate the asking," she agrees, and then her eyes narrow and her posture stiffens. "How are they connected?" she asks quietly.
"He's her secretary, it seems. Or one of them," Travis shrugs. "Didn't need to ask anymore to get what I was looking for. You know him then?" Because Travis soooo used him. And hopefully they're not friends. Not likely, employee of Sabella, but... maybe a bit of hesitation in the voice there.
Sabitha leans forward as Travis speaks, to reclaim her glass of water for a long sip. Her throat maybe hurts a tad after all that.. erm.. ranting. Her gaze snaps to Travis over the glass, and she lowers it coldly. "He works for her." There's a long moment of letting this sink in, and then she asks, "Do you know how long?"
"Since before summer began," Travis says, eyes narrowing slightly in curiousity. "I thought you didn't want to know anything about it. Sorry, didn't know I was keeping something important."
And /hello/ emotions again, this time a sudden, sharp spike of raging anger. She stands again, and in one swift and unthinking motion, the glass in her hand goes flying toward the wall, where it shatters with a satisfying crash. "Fucking /hell/!" she explodes again, and her hands shakes just slightly before she presses them hard against her thighs. "Fuck /him/ to hell. For /months/? When we.. fucking../hell/." She paces across the room, and then back, once, and there's an obvious struggle to get herself neatly under control again. To explain. And possibly apologize for that glass. Just... give her a second.
Several seconds, if he knows what's good for him. Travis gaze alternates between the broken glass and pacing Sabby. "I'm hoping that's all figurative and not literal..." he finally comments, voice low and steady. Anchor-like, maybe. "So... you know him well, then?"
Sabitha exhales slowly, and her hands flutter, shaking, and then tuck into her pocket. "Sorry," she states after a moment, with eyes that slide shut, and then open, finally looking at Travis. "No. No, not /well/. He just..." And now she draws a steadying breath, inward, as she arranges words in her mind before explaining. "We were aquaintances, for awhile. He'd been looking for a job, mentioned that she'd offered. I..." There's a briefly difficult pause, and then she presses on. "Told him my story." Her voice hardens. "And then, apparently, he lied to me for months, fucking went to /work/ for her, the entire time we were friends, fucking..." She breaks off again, shakes her head. "I knew they had a connection. I've... he told me. Thinks I was fucking /lying/. But I didn't know it was the whole time."
"Want me to kill him for you?" Travis asks quickly. "Joke, of course." Sorta. "People are real jerks most of the time. Sorry you had to relive it all, though." He's quietly thoughtful. No, that's sympathetic, of course.
"I want to kill him myself," Sabby answers in cool seriousness. Her eyes flick to the mess of the broken glass. "Sorry about that. I'll buy you a new one," she offers, and returns to collapse back onto the couch with another slow exhale. "Hell. No, it's ok. I'm ok. I just never thought someone would think I was /lying/." There's an obvious slow moment of self gathering again. "Saw her the other day, actually." She laughs shortly. "And look, still alive, in one piece. Damn paranoia, I know." A quick, sideways look. "I'm sorry. Can we change the subject? I shouldn'tve asked. I just.. it's been bugging me for awhile now. I wanted to know."
"Don't worry about it. Wasn't anything I'm attached to," Travis says, nodding toward the glass remnants. "And that's a good thing, then. But we don't have to talk about it. Another subject. Not too late. Up for a bite to eat? Deli around the corner's open all ours, if you want a sandwich." Because rage and WOE are have high fuel consumption factors.
Sabitha shakes her head shortly. High fuel consumption, indeed. She looks positively worn out. "Thanks," she answers. "But I think maybe I'd better just... I've got to get my head on straight for work tomorrow." She looks at Travis briefly, with a dry smile. "And I'm obviously not much good for company. Hell. I'm sorry. This wasn't... I didn't intend it to go like this."
"Well, it could have ended worse," Travis shrugs at her, standing to show her out. "Next time, though... bring an extra set of clothes you can leave. Don't mind lending you some, but... my style's probably not anything you'd wear to the office."
Sabitha stands as Travis does, and there's a long moment as she looks at him quietly and then finally nods, pausing in the door. "Yeah. Ok, I will."
The Good:
Sabitha is busy trying not to yawn into her coffee. It's an ungodly early hour - the sun is up, but only just barely, and yet the restaurant downstairs is already bustling with patrons doing the same as Sabby. They're mostly dressed the same, too - neatly professional, in a town buzzing with the anticipation of a heated Senatorial vote. A hundred lobbyists all hoping to make their case, whichever side they're on. And a hundred lobbyists jockying for a seat at a table by themselves, a hot cup of coffee, the morning paper, and a warm muffin. Sabby has procured all four.
Travis isn't lobbying for his own table, however. And armed with his own mug and a bowl of fruit, he strides across the room from behind, slides around the table and eases into the seat facing her. "Mind if I join you?"
"I'm sorry, I'm-" Sabby begins without looking up from her paper before breaking off, looking up, and staring. Her jaw unhinges just a tad. The expression soon melts into an uncontrolled yawn, smothered under a raised hand, and then she questions, in dry disbelief. "Travis? What are you /doing/ here?" And, uh, good to see you?
"Breakfast meeting with a client?" Travis says, a quick smile flashing across his face. He sips at the coffee before setting the plate and mug down. "Figured it'd been a while since I was out of New York. And being a Saturday, I expected you'd at least have the breakfast timeslot open, though hopefully some time later in the day as well. So surprise."
Sabitha smiles, then, an echoing response to his. It's a little uncertain - or perhaps disbelieving - and her eyes linger on him for a long minute as if he might disappear. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up to conversation again. "Oh! Breakfast. Yes." She lifts her paper in indication, and then folds it neatly over. "Trying to catch up on the newest gossip." A pause, and then, "You came all the way to DC to see me?"
"Well, I don't know anyone else in the area," Travis shrugs. "Though really, the Lincoln Memorial is right up there. I'd say... half-n-half, you 'n Abe." He begins pulling the paper off the muffing and sets it aside on the table.
Sabitha's smile twitches to a grin, and she chokes back a laugh. "Well. I'm told the sights aren't much to see, once you work through the tourists, but I haven't caught any of them since I was thirteen, so I don't think I can judge," she shares. "If you get up close and personal with Abe while I'm doing business, make sure you get a picture for me, hm?"
"Will do," Travis agrees. "Though I'll have to get one of those disposables. I don't think I own a camera. Well, not a /tourist's/ camera." Ahem. "So. Business. What's your secretary's number? I'd like to make an appointment for tonight. Even if it's late."
Sabitha lifts a brow elegantly, and manages a cool look over a sip of coffee before she intones. "My schedule is terribly busy. I hope you have something worthwhile to discuss?" A grin ruins the attempt, and she slides backwards and frowns abruptly. "Oh, hell. I wish I'd know you were coming. I wouldn't have scheduled anything for dinner. I won't be back until ten, probably. Although I think I've got a patch in the afternoon..." She frowns absently, already digging in her purse for her schedule.
"What, and ruined the effect? Your face was priceless," Travis smirks at that. "Afternoon is fine. And after 10. I hear it looks nice after dark anyways, and being summer, 10 should be fine. And there's always tomorrow. Because there's a hold on your return ticket, waiting for your call to confirm. Since Monday's a holiday anyways. Might as well spend it here, hmm? Let Freedom ring."
Sabitha glances up with surprise. "Until Mond.." She breaks off again, and stares at him for a moment before nodding. There's a hint of bafflement in her eyes. "I could... we could do that. Maybe. I'd have to call..." A pause, and she rips a sheet of paper from her pad and sets to scribbling out phone numbers and what little free time is in her schedule. Her eyes flick up to him, smiling. "So Abe. What else is on your agenda?"
Travis pops the last of the muffin in his mouth, chasing it down with the coffee, which he then waves one toward one of the waiters for a refill. "Haven't decided yet, really. I hear the FBI gives tours. Might check that out while you're with the important people."
Sabitha slides the paper toward him, indicating with a pen. "I've got an interview this morning" - a pause to glance at her watch - "Hell. In forty-five minutes. Two lunch meetings, two hours freeish in the afternoon, several..." She waves a hand and rolls her eyes upward. "Nevermind. I'll be back 9:30ish, I think. And you have my cell, I've got that on me." Her tone varies between annoyed and briskly businesslike. Several days in Washington have not, perhaps, done her good.
"Well, then," Travis says, peering over the paper. "Let's meet right at the capitol steps then, at 2. Can decide where to go from there. If you want to walk around, or just get a coffee or whatever you feel like after battling it out with these guys. And tonight. We can see a show or just walk or whatever."
Sabitha watches him as he studies the paper, with a peculiar expression that lingers for a moment before she notes it and wipes it evenly away with a sip of coffee. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Goodness knows I'll need a bit of air by then. Her fingers curl round her mug, and her gaze alternates between Travis and her scribbled out schedule."
"I'm not stressing you out more by being here, am I?" Travis asks suddenly, looking up from the paper to try to meet her gaze. "Because when you're busy... even scheduling in time for something relaxing...".
Sabitha pulls her gaze from the paper to Travis, startled. "What? No... no! No, you're not." She flashes a smile, briefly. "I'm glad you're here. I just don't think I've quite.. processed it properly yet." A pause, and she adds apologetically, "I may not be the best company. It's been... a long week." Or two. Or three.
"Okay, if you're sure," Travis nods. "And I didn't come down expecting you to keep me entertained. So hopefully can keep you sane amidst all these politicians."
Sabitha's smile returns, geniune. "Why Travis," she teases. "That's almost sweet of you." Another quick glance at her watch, and she quickly dissects the last of her muffin. "Hell. I wish I weren't so busy. It's a rare thing, to get you to myself for extended periods of time." Another yawn sneaks in. "You've just gotten here, and I've got to run off already."
"Don't let it get out," Travis says, mock stare crossing his features. "I've got a reputation to maintain. But don't let me keep you, go on, go on," he says, waving her off. "Work to do. We'll have fun later on."
Sabitha's lips twitch, and then she takes a moment to collect herself and stands. "Oh! Do you want me to see if I can get you a key, so you can get into my room while I'm out?" She studies him uncertainly for a moment. "If you wanted to shower or anything."
"Who says I need a key," Travis winks, a faint smirk there. "But sure, I suppose a key would be appreciated. By the management and me."
Sabitha laughs shortly, and then leans down for a quick kiss. Stolen on her way out. "I like to pretend I live a normal life now and again," she teases, straightening. "I'll stop by and ask on the way out, then. I don't think it will be a problem." Her brows lift suggestively. "Apparently, money can buy a lot of things, including friendly service. Who knew?"
"Oh, everyone knows that, Sabby," Travis says, smiling back as her. "Most people just don't know how /much/ it takes for that. See you at 2 then. Good luck."
"Yeah." Sabby pauses, lingering for a moment to watch him with thoughts occupied elsewhere. A quick smile, and her attention snaps back into place. She adds, "I'm glad you came. I'll see you later!" And then she's rushing from the room, already running late for her first appointment.
Travis remains seated at the precariously claimed table for a while longer, still sipping at the coffee and reading the discarded newspaper. The smile remains on his face for a while longer as well, now mostly to himself. Something right, after all...
The Bad:
Autumn Lights Apts #510 - Travis(#2937RCA)
When you have a few minutes to prepare, it's amazing what one can accomplish. When you have the time it takes to cross a few miles in New York City in a cab or on the subway... well, this is how novels are written. So Travis, while waiting for Sabby to arrive, has not only mixed up some fresh juice and iced tea, but has also swiffered the hardwood floors, dusted down some of the furniture, and even knocked down a little spider who had been artfully decorating one of the corners along the high-ceiling. It's been a busy couple weeks, what can he say?
Sabitha is impressed. Or she would be, if she realized the effort, or were paying attention to such things. She's been home and to the SIN house before her call, so she's freshly showered and neatly (and comfortably) dressed by the time she shows up and raps shortly on Travis's door. She looks perhaps a little distracted, but otherwise typically Sabby.
By now, the cleaning materials have been stowed and Travis has washed up a bit himself, enough to at least be presentable when the door swings open. "Hi there," he says, holding the door open for her. "Come on in. Got some ice water," he says, pointing toward the sweating glasses on the counter, "but there's juice, iced tea... the usual if you'd rather."
Sabitha rubs her hands briskly against the thighs of her jeans and flashes a quick, distracted smile. "No, water is great," she answers, and slides in and toward the glasses. She glances briefly over her shoulder as she claims one. "You've got a bit, right?" Just.. erm.. doublechecking. Nervous? No! Why would you say that?
Travis lifts his own glass from the counter, heading toward the ever-so-popular couch and settling down. "Yeah, of course." That she's nervous is floating all over the room by now. And Travis would probably be experiencing a bit more of the same if he knew the /reason/ for the nerves. "Have a seat," he says, nodding toward the other end of the sofa. "What's up?"
Sabitha forces the ball of nerves far down in her stomach and follows Travis to the couch. There's a moment of preparation, in the form of settling in at one end, with her back against the arm, and sipping at her water and fidgeting into just the right position. And then finally she lowers her glass to rest lightly against her knee. "I'm not sure if you're aware," she finally begins, in a rush of words that hints at a prepared speech. "But I often attend various events with various men, as a part of my... job. For Ms. Frost. Cultivating connections, you might say." A very brief pause; her finger twitches against her glass. "Sometimes it's a bit more. Longer exposure, a few dinners, harmless flirtation. Dancing." She levels her gaze on him, and inhales. "But I find myself increasingly at a point where I need to know exactly where my lines are." Her expression is expectant. She is, apparently, expecting him to supply those lines. After a breath, she thinks to clarify. "Where you want my lines to be."
Travis watches Sabby over his glass a moment before setting it aside on the table. "Was wondering who'd bring it up first. Kinda surprised it didn't in DC. But that's what I get for just dropping in unannounced." His eyes wander a moment, much easier to put thoughts together when he's not looking directly at her. "I understand the games. I understand the tools and doing what you can to make things work. What I've been trying to understand is being in a place where these 'lines,' if that's what they're called, well, where there are lines at all and lines that matter. Even if it doesn't seem like it... well, I do spend time thinking about you when we're not together," he adds finally ending the looking around her to settle on her face.
Sabitha smiles at the last, but it's brief and, yes, distracted. Her eyes latch onto his, and she nods shortly. One hand spreads against her knee while the other holds her water tightly. "I know," she answers carefully. "And I'm sorry to have to push like this. But things are..." She pauses a moment in thought, lips pursing, and then continues. "Maybe it won't ever come to anything. But I really feel... I think it could be an issue, and I don't want to find myself in a situation and not... know."
"So..." Travis begins slowly, "Are you asking if I mind if you see other men, if we're ready to sleep with each other, if we should send out Christmas cards together this year, or all of the above?" A moment later, he continues. "Sorry, maybe it's not the time to be glib. So you want to know where I stand, here it is. You matter to me. Which, if you knew any of my past... 'relationships,' if you want to call them that... that's saying a great deal. You matter enough for me to think beyond today. Which for work is like breathing. For sex, it's just not natural. Lines? Do I mind if you play the game? Not at all. You do what you gotta. Would I be upset if I knew you were sleeping with one your assignments. Damn straight."
Sabitha frowns slightly, and frustration rises in swirling emotion at the glibness. Her frown eases, though the scent of frustration does not, as he continues, and she forces an even nod. "No sex, then. What else?" Sabby, it seems, doesn't actually have any personal lines of her own on this matter.
"What else?" Travis' reply is quick, just a bit sharp. The frustration is noted, matched even. "Do you want my grocery list? Sabby, it's hard enough to work through what /I/ want, let alone trying to read your mind with what /you/ want. Half of the things we do... I swore I'd never do. Distained people who went all stupid over their beau of the week. But with you, I'm finding myself doing them. And not really because I feel obligated to or it's what I should do to be a good boyfriend, but because I really like you and like spending time with you. So chinese and some wine and a movie, broadway shows--however lame it seems--well, it's not who I ever expected myself to be. If you want someone confident in the firing range, at a high-class society event, at your local pool hall, hell, even in bed, I'm your man. But if you expect me to try to steer this relationship by myself, well sorry, that's something I don't know about yet, so you'll just have to do with someone who doesn't have it all together. be
cause before you, I didn't /do/ relationships. No, I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do with other men. If you want to talk about it, fine, I'll talk. But I'm not going to mandate your life, because that'd mean squat to either of us."
Frustration edges higher, now clear on her face, until it merges into anger, and her grip on the glass tightens until her knuckles are white. "Are you fucking /kidding/ me?" she finally explodes, staring hard at him in disbelief. "Steer this relationship by /yourself?/ What the /hell/ have I been doing for the past three months? Have I somehow been /unclear/ in my intentions? Vague? I think I've been pretty /damn/ patient, Travis." She stands, then, an upward explosion as she can't quite contain herself in stillness anymore. The glass is abandoned, and she paces sharply. "So yes. Travis. I /do/ want your grocery list. I want to know if you have a problem with flirting. With hand holding. With dancing. With kissing. Because I can't fucking /read/ you if I don't force you to spell it out, and I can't keep dodging things with dangerous men without knowing just how far I'm leading them and how far I'm not. I'm sorry if this /bothers/ you, but there's not really anything I can do about that right now." She pauses
in her pacing to stare at him in angry challenge. Have we mentioned that it's been a very tense week?
"Yes, Sabby, there's been many times when it's been very vague and unclear," Travis says, voice level, neither cool nor heated. Which likely means he's trying very hard to control it. "Whether it's your fault, mine, neither or both, half the time we're together, I don't know if I should be staying or leaving. Because we're /not/ a normal couple, whatever the hell that means. Normal couples /don't/ fight, make up and sleep with each other /before/ they start dating and enjoy nice quiet dinners followed by a cab ride home /after./ But now I don't know if you want to try to be a normal couple or just accept that we're gonna be different. But 'winging it' sure isn't working. When I try to be the good boyfriend. Well, obviously the broadway thing was lame. And ice cream and a movie gets my manhood insulted. But when I try to be the old me... then I'm cold or distant and we end up arguing. So yes, it is all perfectly vague and confusing."
Sabitha stares at him, dumbfounded. "Like /hell/," she replies. Her tone drops to match his unconsciously, cool and even and quietly pissed as hell. "Like /hell/ I haven't told you what I want. When I have a good time. Encouraged you and praised you and /especially/ like hell I insulted your manhood when I have been /throwing/ myself at you for fucking /weeks/." Her tone unfortunately rises as she speaks, and she finally throws her hands up and paces across the floor again. "Fuck it, Travis. Every time we have one of these conversations, it's you making excuses for your lousy track record with relationships and me telling you it's ok. Well you know what? It's not ok anymore. They're excuses. If you want to do this, do it. If you don't, then fucking /tell me/ and I'll sure as hell find someone who does. Or do it on my own." There's a jerk of her chin upward, a steadfast 'don't need nobody' expression.
"You're kidding me, right?" Travis throws a stare her way, wincing at her words, not so much at the raised voice as the tsunami of emotions that keep slamming into him. "Because if not, you're sure BSing yourself. Yes, you've said when you've had a good time. And we've done a movie and order in several times lately. Yes, you told me you were glad to see me in DC. But pretty obvious the times I deserve praise are a shock. But no, you haven't told me what you want. Except that you wanted to sleep with me right after one of the biggest turn-offs you could feed a guy. So what /do/ you want? Sex? I can oblige, though I was under the impression that if you're dating it's supposed to mean something too. Not just showing up when you've had a rough day and using each other to vent some stress." Oh, he can lace those words with barbs too, if they're trading insult.
Sabitha raises a hand briefly to rub at the bridge of her nose. With every passing minute, more scents spiral toward Travis, ranging from rage to desperation to a low level stubborn fear. Speaking of emotions. "It is not about the /sex/, Travis," she replies shortly. "And I sure as /hell/ haven't noticed myself getting laid after any of my recent stressful days. And there have been one or two. So don't you /dare/ throw that at me. Not when you were right there, too!" Bitterness laces her voice, and she bounces up on her toes, then rocks backward, hard. "I mean, /fuck/, Travis! Are you /looking/ for reasons to make this not work? Did it ever occur to you that I might be /honest/ when I say I enjoy something?"
"I have no clue what that is supposed to mean," Travis says, folding his arms carefully across his chest. "No, I'm not looking to not make it work. Even I'm not that much a masochist. Why would I not believe you? And obviously I enjoy it too. Else I'd just move and change my number. So despite the recurring blow-ups, we both are enjoying spending time together. But obviously that's not enough. Because obviously you're expecting something more, something you've been 'pretty /damn/ patiently' waiting for. And other than sex, which I just said I thought you didn't want just some random act, and you just said it's not about anyways... I don't know what the hell you're waiting for."
Sabitha stares steadfastly at Travis, and as quickly as the emotions flared up, they spiral down to a tolerable level. Her pacing carries her back to the couch, and she collapses into the corner again. She shifts again, to watch him. Silently. Something's going on in her head, but even she doesn't know quite what it is. "Ok," she answers after a long moment. "Ok. You're right." She rubs at the bridge of her nose again, and then continues. "Fine. Sex. Hell yes, I would like some. I would have liked some weeks ago. I am trying to be patient with whatever pacing you have going on, Travis, but it's just /sex/. If we're together, it's not random /or/ the meaning of everything. Trying to make it something it's not is just..." A pause, a shake of her head, and her tone continues evenly and quietly. "I'm sorry if I've been unclear about that. But that's not what /this/ is about, ok? I just really..." She breaks off and then continues, with a quiet note of pleading in her voice. "I just really need to know what.. I re
ally need some guidelines. I'm afraid things will get out of control if I don't have them."
The emotional plunges really are unnerving. Because it's fine to experience rage with someone. Fine to experience reconcilation. But bouncing between them... Travis takes a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair, a while in forming a response. "Okay..." he begins, drawing the word out. Apparantly not quite fully formulated, but moving right along. "I suppose that's easier to work with. And... much clearer. And boundaries? It's... hard to say what actions are too much. Because if I saw you having dinner with some guy... even flirting. I guess I'd give you the benefit of the doubt. But... if you were... enjoying yourself. Man, that's not very helpful, I guess." Enter Jealous Travis, now with ultra-depressant offensive action.
And there's a disturbing spike of guilt at that one, although Sabby keeps any of it from her features. "I doubt you'd ever see it, if it helps?" she offers lamely, with an expression that says she knows just how lame it is. Her head rolls back against the couch, and her eyes settle on the ceiling. "Hell. I'm not cut out for this," she mutters quietly, under her breath, and then louder to Travis, "With them, it's just a game. I promise. Even if I weren't with you. And didn't have boundries. It'd still be a game." Her eyes flick down to him. "With them."
Well, /that's/ reassuring. Though maybe exactly enough for Travis. "Then that's what I need to know. As long as you're clear what's game and what's real... I'm satisfied. And with that other matter cleared up... I think we can keep each other from looking elsewhere."
Sabitha rolls her eyes upward again. "Ok," she answers evenly. There's still a sense of settling about her as emotions cool, and any possible inuendo in the last is apparently missed completely in her distracted mind. Because her next move is to ask, out of the blue, "When you were investigating Sabella, did you meet anyone named Mark? French guy?" Her tone is tight, but even. Just a nagging question she's been dying to have tied up.
"I can't tell you now all the things that you can and can't do. Because I don't know," Travis elaborates slightly. "But if we're together... I just want to know that... we're together. If there's something you're not sure about... you can ask. I guess I may have to do the same." His eyes flicker slightly at the mention of Sabella and Mark. Point in case. "I did. He lives in this building. Neighbors, of a sort."
Sabitha smiles just slightly at the first, and she nods. "Please. I'd appreciate the asking," she agrees, and then her eyes narrow and her posture stiffens. "How are they connected?" she asks quietly.
"He's her secretary, it seems. Or one of them," Travis shrugs. "Didn't need to ask anymore to get what I was looking for. You know him then?" Because Travis soooo used him. And hopefully they're not friends. Not likely, employee of Sabella, but... maybe a bit of hesitation in the voice there.
Sabitha leans forward as Travis speaks, to reclaim her glass of water for a long sip. Her throat maybe hurts a tad after all that.. erm.. ranting. Her gaze snaps to Travis over the glass, and she lowers it coldly. "He works for her." There's a long moment of letting this sink in, and then she asks, "Do you know how long?"
"Since before summer began," Travis says, eyes narrowing slightly in curiousity. "I thought you didn't want to know anything about it. Sorry, didn't know I was keeping something important."
And /hello/ emotions again, this time a sudden, sharp spike of raging anger. She stands again, and in one swift and unthinking motion, the glass in her hand goes flying toward the wall, where it shatters with a satisfying crash. "Fucking /hell/!" she explodes again, and her hands shakes just slightly before she presses them hard against her thighs. "Fuck /him/ to hell. For /months/? When we.. fucking../hell/." She paces across the room, and then back, once, and there's an obvious struggle to get herself neatly under control again. To explain. And possibly apologize for that glass. Just... give her a second.
Several seconds, if he knows what's good for him. Travis gaze alternates between the broken glass and pacing Sabby. "I'm hoping that's all figurative and not literal..." he finally comments, voice low and steady. Anchor-like, maybe. "So... you know him well, then?"
Sabitha exhales slowly, and her hands flutter, shaking, and then tuck into her pocket. "Sorry," she states after a moment, with eyes that slide shut, and then open, finally looking at Travis. "No. No, not /well/. He just..." And now she draws a steadying breath, inward, as she arranges words in her mind before explaining. "We were aquaintances, for awhile. He'd been looking for a job, mentioned that she'd offered. I..." There's a briefly difficult pause, and then she presses on. "Told him my story." Her voice hardens. "And then, apparently, he lied to me for months, fucking went to /work/ for her, the entire time we were friends, fucking..." She breaks off again, shakes her head. "I knew they had a connection. I've... he told me. Thinks I was fucking /lying/. But I didn't know it was the whole time."
"Want me to kill him for you?" Travis asks quickly. "Joke, of course." Sorta. "People are real jerks most of the time. Sorry you had to relive it all, though." He's quietly thoughtful. No, that's sympathetic, of course.
"I want to kill him myself," Sabby answers in cool seriousness. Her eyes flick to the mess of the broken glass. "Sorry about that. I'll buy you a new one," she offers, and returns to collapse back onto the couch with another slow exhale. "Hell. No, it's ok. I'm ok. I just never thought someone would think I was /lying/." There's an obvious slow moment of self gathering again. "Saw her the other day, actually." She laughs shortly. "And look, still alive, in one piece. Damn paranoia, I know." A quick, sideways look. "I'm sorry. Can we change the subject? I shouldn'tve asked. I just.. it's been bugging me for awhile now. I wanted to know."
"Don't worry about it. Wasn't anything I'm attached to," Travis says, nodding toward the glass remnants. "And that's a good thing, then. But we don't have to talk about it. Another subject. Not too late. Up for a bite to eat? Deli around the corner's open all ours, if you want a sandwich." Because rage and WOE are have high fuel consumption factors.
Sabitha shakes her head shortly. High fuel consumption, indeed. She looks positively worn out. "Thanks," she answers. "But I think maybe I'd better just... I've got to get my head on straight for work tomorrow." She looks at Travis briefly, with a dry smile. "And I'm obviously not much good for company. Hell. I'm sorry. This wasn't... I didn't intend it to go like this."
"Well, it could have ended worse," Travis shrugs at her, standing to show her out. "Next time, though... bring an extra set of clothes you can leave. Don't mind lending you some, but... my style's probably not anything you'd wear to the office."
Sabitha stands as Travis does, and there's a long moment as she looks at him quietly and then finally nods, pausing in the door. "Yeah. Ok, I will."