OOC The Silence is broken
OOC Log dumps, before the triumphant return of Travis.
Off-Grid RP Room #3
Sabitha has not taken the trouble to look more than merely presentable for this quick grocery run. Her hair's pulled back in a french braid, she's clad in a faded fitted tee and capris. Her steps flip-flop as she directs her way through the produce, basket slung over her arm.
A hand reaches for a nearby apple, giveing it a once over before tucking it into his own basket. "I think we've got at least another month before we'll be seeing any decent apples," Travis comments, peering intently at the next selection in hand.
Sabitha's eyes snap up, startled and suspicious at the familiar voice. Her gaze settles into something tired and wary as she studies Travis. "What do you want?"
"Three decent gala apples," Travis smirks slightly. "More difficult than I expected."
Sabitha's hand hovers over an orange as she studies him wearily. "I am not really in the mood to play games with you, Travis."
"What's life without a bit of fun, Sabitha?" Travis asks, leaning past her and reaching for an orange of his own.
Sabitha remains stock still as Travis leans, eyeing him as he comes close. Her voice drops quiet. "Are you fucking with me?"
"Today, or in general?" Travis comments, stretcing back and rolling the globe around in his hand.
"Either."
"I thought you knew me better than that," Travis shrugged, dropping the orange into his basket, and peering at the vegetables off to the side. "You ever tried the produce on that place over on 1st? Much better than here, but I didn't feel like the walk tonight. And to answer your question, not specifically."
Sabitha considers him quietly, eyes shadowed and deep. She shifts her basket to one hand, fingers curling tightly over the handle. "Not specifically?"
"No more s than usual, I guess I should say," Travis shrugs. "Have to lay low on the messing with people. Damn Da Vinci code and getting people's guards up."
A smile appears, small and wry. "Yes. The Da Vinci Code. That's the reason you shouldn't fuck with people like playthings," she answers.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't hurt to take a break from mindgames," Travis allows a half smile. "All the better to come back in full force a few weeks from now when it moves on to the dollar theater."
Sabitha stares at Travis for a long moment, with broad disbelief written clear in features and emotions before she pushes past him without so much as a fruit in her basket.
Travis pauses just long enough to return the orange to the bin before following after her. He pauses in front of the bread aisle. "Rye or Sourdough. Oh, the tough choices in life."
Sabitha spins on Travis with the sudden force of anger, pounding at him with mood-swinging /rage/. "What the /fuck/ do you want from me, Travis?"
"Just to baske in your presence a bit longer," Travis states, plucking a loaf of rye from the shelf and placing it in the basket. "I miss spending time with you."
Sabitha snorts disdain. "You never liked spending time with me."
"What makes you say that?" Travis asks, a brief moment of confusion flashing across his face.
Sabitha stares at Travis for a moment, with emotions that tumble from panic to regret to irritation, all written over with an intense, quiet sadness. "Nevermind, Travis. I don't have the energy for this right now. Forget it, ok?"
"You know, Sabby," Travis says, not looking at her as he stoops over to reach for a jar of peanut butter, "I really /am/ glad you've found someone that can look past exactly /that/. Because today you don't have the energy and I should forget it, but tomorrow I'm the devil himself for not knowing."
Sabitha is at his side in an instant, and her arm pulls back for a nasty punch directed solidly at his gut. "You have no /fucking/ idea what you're talking about."
Thank whatever for plastic grocery baskets. Travis straightens, his basket covering the more sensitive regions of his body. "Don't I, Sabitha?"
Sabitha pulls back, stance instantly defensive, the result of a year's judo. "You never did. Go find another fucking grocery store and stop making jabs at my life just because /you're/ unhappy."
"/I'm/ unhappy?" Travis blinks. "Now who doesn't know what they're talking about?"
Sabitha stares at Travis for a moment before something in expression and emotion breaks, a fissure that spiders through her control at his words, and she turns on her heel to stalk toward the exit.
"You forgot your orange," Travis calls after her.
Sabitha glances over her shoulder with distress in her expression. Her eyes narrow, an attempt at anger that fails miserably, and she shoots back, "Fuck you, Travis."
Travis pauses just a moment to dump the contents of his basket into the unsuspecting cart of a lady occupying his aisle before he follows Sabby outside. "Is that an offer?"
Sabitha steps outside, and it is raining. Pouring, in fact, a torrential downpour that has her soaked within seconds. The sidewalks are mostly empty, with only the occasional umbrella-wielding pedestrian passing by. Sabby stops short in surprise, with a look of completely pervasive startlement as she tips her head skyward, as if trying to figure out exactly how this happened.
"Didn't check the weather, I see," Travis says, pausing in the doorway a moment before stepping out into the rain himself. "Don't want to take unfair advantage of the conversation being dry. So, you were saying?"
Hellfire Clubhouse - Emma's Office (#3421RC)
Travis gives a dismissive nod to the pawn by the steps as he makes his way up towards Emma's office. He pauses outside her door, pulling his sleeve back into place before rapping on the wood.
Inside, there is a crash, a thump, a curse, and then a snapped, "Come /in/." Once he follows the order, he finds Emma standing up, the back of a tipped over chair in her hand, the other rubbing her knee as she rights the chair. "Hello, Mr. Reed," she growls and looks aside at him.
"Rough day?" Travis asks, closing the door behind him, and crossing the room toward the still upright chair. "You wanted to see me??"
Emma tips the chair back into place and tosses her hair as she stalks closer. "/Yes/," she purls, then spins to face him, standing just on the otherside of his chair. "How good are your contacts within Homeland Security?"
"Second-hand," Travis begins, loosely gripping the back of the chair as he mentally runs through a few possibilities. "I prefer not to work with most of them directly. Easier to stay off the radar that way. There something you need to look into?"
"Sabitha Melcross has come under investigation." Emma stops and smiles maliciously. "You remember Sabitha, don't you? Darling girl..."
Travis freezes, his mind whirling even if his face does not. "Vague recollection," he says after a moment, playing along for the moment. "Helped me out with some details from the Senator's office at one point."
Emma sets a knee in the chair seat and leans forward. "Mmm. Yes. /Such/ a treasure. Her status has been uncovered, and she's been linked to terrorist activity. I assume people have been extra jumpy after the Capitol attack, but I want to know how they discovered /her/."
"Terrorist activity?" Travis blinks. "Sabby? That's...almost amusing. Do you know anything about what intel they /do/ have? Who's actually investigating her?"
"/Almost/. Limited intel that I know of. My source was only able to skim the file as if crossed his desk. His name is Franklin Tyboroski. You might start there if your own sources aren't any better," she says in challenge.
"Always good to chase more than one lead," Travis shrugs. "We working with any specific time frames? Any sign they're planning to move on this, or is the investigation still prelimnary?"
"I don't /know/, Knight. That's why I need you on the job," Emma grates out.
"Then I'm on it," Travis nods, a bit bemused at the lapse of the cool demeanor. "I'll move as quickly as I can without being detected. See if they've got any local guys involved--that'd make it a bit easier."
Irritation spikes at the noted bemusement, and Emma sweeps him over in a rough glance. "Sounds like you haven't any time to waste then, hmm?"
Travis pushes off from the chair, with a single nod, as he turns toward the door. "So, no kiss goodnight?"
"I would hate to /distract/ you," she answers his back, leaning forward to place her hands on the chair back, still warm from his.
"Oh, it takes more than that to fully distract me," Travis smirks. "But I know a dismissal when I hear one."
Emma grimaces and turns to fall gracelessly into the chair. "Oh, smart boy. I knew the obedience school would pay off eventually."
"I prefer the conjured demon analogy, myself," Travis replies before slipping outside.
Emma lifts her hands above her head and silently crosses her index fingers in the sign of the holy cross.
Off-Grid RP Room #3
Sabitha has not taken the trouble to look more than merely presentable for this quick grocery run. Her hair's pulled back in a french braid, she's clad in a faded fitted tee and capris. Her steps flip-flop as she directs her way through the produce, basket slung over her arm.
A hand reaches for a nearby apple, giveing it a once over before tucking it into his own basket. "I think we've got at least another month before we'll be seeing any decent apples," Travis comments, peering intently at the next selection in hand.
Sabitha's eyes snap up, startled and suspicious at the familiar voice. Her gaze settles into something tired and wary as she studies Travis. "What do you want?"
"Three decent gala apples," Travis smirks slightly. "More difficult than I expected."
Sabitha's hand hovers over an orange as she studies him wearily. "I am not really in the mood to play games with you, Travis."
"What's life without a bit of fun, Sabitha?" Travis asks, leaning past her and reaching for an orange of his own.
Sabitha remains stock still as Travis leans, eyeing him as he comes close. Her voice drops quiet. "Are you fucking with me?"
"Today, or in general?" Travis comments, stretcing back and rolling the globe around in his hand.
"Either."
"I thought you knew me better than that," Travis shrugged, dropping the orange into his basket, and peering at the vegetables off to the side. "You ever tried the produce on that place over on 1st? Much better than here, but I didn't feel like the walk tonight. And to answer your question, not specifically."
Sabitha considers him quietly, eyes shadowed and deep. She shifts her basket to one hand, fingers curling tightly over the handle. "Not specifically?"
"No more s than usual, I guess I should say," Travis shrugs. "Have to lay low on the messing with people. Damn Da Vinci code and getting people's guards up."
A smile appears, small and wry. "Yes. The Da Vinci Code. That's the reason you shouldn't fuck with people like playthings," she answers.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't hurt to take a break from mindgames," Travis allows a half smile. "All the better to come back in full force a few weeks from now when it moves on to the dollar theater."
Sabitha stares at Travis for a long moment, with broad disbelief written clear in features and emotions before she pushes past him without so much as a fruit in her basket.
Travis pauses just long enough to return the orange to the bin before following after her. He pauses in front of the bread aisle. "Rye or Sourdough. Oh, the tough choices in life."
Sabitha spins on Travis with the sudden force of anger, pounding at him with mood-swinging /rage/. "What the /fuck/ do you want from me, Travis?"
"Just to baske in your presence a bit longer," Travis states, plucking a loaf of rye from the shelf and placing it in the basket. "I miss spending time with you."
Sabitha snorts disdain. "You never liked spending time with me."
"What makes you say that?" Travis asks, a brief moment of confusion flashing across his face.
Sabitha stares at Travis for a moment, with emotions that tumble from panic to regret to irritation, all written over with an intense, quiet sadness. "Nevermind, Travis. I don't have the energy for this right now. Forget it, ok?"
"You know, Sabby," Travis says, not looking at her as he stoops over to reach for a jar of peanut butter, "I really /am/ glad you've found someone that can look past exactly /that/. Because today you don't have the energy and I should forget it, but tomorrow I'm the devil himself for not knowing."
Sabitha is at his side in an instant, and her arm pulls back for a nasty punch directed solidly at his gut. "You have no /fucking/ idea what you're talking about."
Thank whatever for plastic grocery baskets. Travis straightens, his basket covering the more sensitive regions of his body. "Don't I, Sabitha?"
Sabitha pulls back, stance instantly defensive, the result of a year's judo. "You never did. Go find another fucking grocery store and stop making jabs at my life just because /you're/ unhappy."
"/I'm/ unhappy?" Travis blinks. "Now who doesn't know what they're talking about?"
Sabitha stares at Travis for a moment before something in expression and emotion breaks, a fissure that spiders through her control at his words, and she turns on her heel to stalk toward the exit.
"You forgot your orange," Travis calls after her.
Sabitha glances over her shoulder with distress in her expression. Her eyes narrow, an attempt at anger that fails miserably, and she shoots back, "Fuck you, Travis."
Travis pauses just a moment to dump the contents of his basket into the unsuspecting cart of a lady occupying his aisle before he follows Sabby outside. "Is that an offer?"
Sabitha steps outside, and it is raining. Pouring, in fact, a torrential downpour that has her soaked within seconds. The sidewalks are mostly empty, with only the occasional umbrella-wielding pedestrian passing by. Sabby stops short in surprise, with a look of completely pervasive startlement as she tips her head skyward, as if trying to figure out exactly how this happened.
"Didn't check the weather, I see," Travis says, pausing in the doorway a moment before stepping out into the rain himself. "Don't want to take unfair advantage of the conversation being dry. So, you were saying?"
Hellfire Clubhouse - Emma's Office (#3421RC)
Travis gives a dismissive nod to the pawn by the steps as he makes his way up towards Emma's office. He pauses outside her door, pulling his sleeve back into place before rapping on the wood.
Inside, there is a crash, a thump, a curse, and then a snapped, "Come /in/." Once he follows the order, he finds Emma standing up, the back of a tipped over chair in her hand, the other rubbing her knee as she rights the chair. "Hello, Mr. Reed," she growls and looks aside at him.
"Rough day?" Travis asks, closing the door behind him, and crossing the room toward the still upright chair. "You wanted to see me??"
Emma tips the chair back into place and tosses her hair as she stalks closer. "/Yes/," she purls, then spins to face him, standing just on the otherside of his chair. "How good are your contacts within Homeland Security?"
"Second-hand," Travis begins, loosely gripping the back of the chair as he mentally runs through a few possibilities. "I prefer not to work with most of them directly. Easier to stay off the radar that way. There something you need to look into?"
"Sabitha Melcross has come under investigation." Emma stops and smiles maliciously. "You remember Sabitha, don't you? Darling girl..."
Travis freezes, his mind whirling even if his face does not. "Vague recollection," he says after a moment, playing along for the moment. "Helped me out with some details from the Senator's office at one point."
Emma sets a knee in the chair seat and leans forward. "Mmm. Yes. /Such/ a treasure. Her status has been uncovered, and she's been linked to terrorist activity. I assume people have been extra jumpy after the Capitol attack, but I want to know how they discovered /her/."
"Terrorist activity?" Travis blinks. "Sabby? That's...almost amusing. Do you know anything about what intel they /do/ have? Who's actually investigating her?"
"/Almost/. Limited intel that I know of. My source was only able to skim the file as if crossed his desk. His name is Franklin Tyboroski. You might start there if your own sources aren't any better," she says in challenge.
"Always good to chase more than one lead," Travis shrugs. "We working with any specific time frames? Any sign they're planning to move on this, or is the investigation still prelimnary?"
"I don't /know/, Knight. That's why I need you on the job," Emma grates out.
"Then I'm on it," Travis nods, a bit bemused at the lapse of the cool demeanor. "I'll move as quickly as I can without being detected. See if they've got any local guys involved--that'd make it a bit easier."
Irritation spikes at the noted bemusement, and Emma sweeps him over in a rough glance. "Sounds like you haven't any time to waste then, hmm?"
Travis pushes off from the chair, with a single nod, as he turns toward the door. "So, no kiss goodnight?"
"I would hate to /distract/ you," she answers his back, leaning forward to place her hands on the chair back, still warm from his.
"Oh, it takes more than that to fully distract me," Travis smirks. "But I know a dismissal when I hear one."
Emma grimaces and turns to fall gracelessly into the chair. "Oh, smart boy. I knew the obedience school would pay off eventually."
"I prefer the conjured demon analogy, myself," Travis replies before slipping outside.
Emma lifts her hands above her head and silently crosses her index fingers in the sign of the holy cross.