Malcolm De Witt: He walks
from the direction of Lincoln Center, carefully skirting the walls of Central
PArk.
Jeremy Thomas: *Walks from the opposite
direction as Malcom, his hiking staff walking with him as he hums along with
Lisa Loeb* And you say...stay...
Malcolm De Witt: 9,4,6,6,
Malcolm De Witt: He slows as he sees Jer, smiling and nodding shyly to
him.
Jeremy Thomas: *He catches the nod and looks
closer, recognizing Malcolm, of course, and remembering the other night. He
nods to him and takes the earphone out of his ear* Hey, man....what's up?
Malcolm De Witt: "You're a friend of
Harvey's, aren't you?"
Jeremy Thomas: He nods, smiling as he
glances around, casually looking for bodyguards. "Yeah, Harvey and I are
close. Name's Jeremy...Jeremy Thomas. Or Dream, if you like...either is cool
with me." Extends his hand.
Malcolm De Witt: He doesn't seem to have any
bodyguards with him tonight. He's also dressed in quite casual clothes,
although still well tailored and stylish. He smiles and nods, shaking his hand
warmly. "Dream. What a beautiful name." He seems a bit dreamy
himself. Or maybe high.
Jeremy Thomas: *Nods to Malcolm*
Thanks...and you, of course, are Malcolm De Witt. Good to meet you...anything
you prefer to be called?
Malcolm De Witt: "You can call me Malcolm,
if you like." He smiles and motions down the street. "I was just on
my way home. I hope you don't mind if I'm...walking this close to the
park?"
Jeremy Thomas: He shakes his head.
"No...not unless I should have reason to mind."
Malcolm De Witt: He shakes
his head. "No...I mean not unless that Ezra fellow took offense
and...well, you know." He shrugs, looking worried.
Jeremy Thomas: He smiles a little, and
shakes his head again. "I'm sure you're fine. Tell you what, Malcolm...how
about I walk you home? You seem a little..." He pauses, then looks at him,
a little concern for his fellow man peeking from out of his baby blues.
"Are you okay? You seem a little...off."
Malcolm De Witt: "I'm wonderful..."
he says, stretching the word out dreamily. "It's a beautiful night, isn't
it? And I'd love for you to walk me home." He smiles at Jer.
Jeremy Thomas: He smiles to Malcolm.
"Great, then...off we go." He falls into step next to Malcolm,
watching him casually yet closely. "What brings you out tonight,
anyway?"
Malcolm De Witt: He shrugs, shaking his head.
"I was just...over at Julliard. Watching the auditions."
Jeremy Thomas: "Julliard...the music
college, right?" He nods. "Right on...personally, I don't have a
musical bone in my body, but I enjoy listening. You a student there, or just an
appreciator like me?"
Malcolm De Witt: "It's more than
music." He grins. "But yes, that Julliard."
Malcolm De Witt: "I..." He trails
off, shaking his head, blushing a bit and looking away. "I probably
shouldn't talk about it."
Jeremy Thomas: He grins, a little redness
coming to his cheeks. "Sorry...I'm not the most cosmopolitan of
folks." He takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a deep drag and
exhaling the smoke slowly.
Jeremy Thomas: He shrugs. "It's cool if
you don't want to talk about it...just making conversation."
Malcolm De Witt: "Well, you'll probably
think me...mad. Or worse, homosexual."
Jeremy Thomas: He shrugs. "Nothing
wrong with being a little bit off...and especially nothing wrong with being
gay."
Malcolm De Witt: He looks like he's about to
say something about that, but shuts his mouth. He does, however, seem to be
relaxing around Jer. He leans toward him, and admits guiltily "I want to
dance Ballet."
Jeremy Thomas: He nods, smiling
non-judgementally as he takes a drag off of his cigarette. "Ballet...great
art form. I have a lot of respect for ballet artists, considering I have all
the agility of a crab on its back." Grins at the self-deprecating joke,
then quickly grows a little serious. "Be proud of your dreams, man. And
never, EVER let anyone shit on them. And if they do, don't let it bother
you...they're too narrow-minded to know better."
Range Fellow: *Happens to be walking down the street. Humming to himself
and twirling his walking stick as he goes.*
Malcolm De Witt: He stares
at him, having to stop walking as he studies him intently. As if trying to see
if Jer's just reeling him in to crush him, or is genuine about this.
Malcolm De Witt: 3,8,5,10,2,
Malcolm De Witt: ((per+sub. Next is per+aler to
notice Range))
Malcolm De Witt: 5,4,1,9,3,
Jeremy Thomas: ((Jer's not lying at all.))
Jeremy Thomas: ((Per + Alert as well))
Malcolm De Witt: He doesn't notice the short
man, his entire attention focused on Jer.
Jeremy Thomas: 4,4,3,7,10,
Range Fellow: *With all the concentration on the humming and the
twirling he misses the two gentalmen walking down the street running in to
Malcolm*
Malcolm De Witt: A slow smile starts to twitch
at the corner of his mouth, and he looks genuinely choked up and Jer's words.
He clears his throat, looks away. "You're the first man--aside from
Karlos--who's ever said that to me."
Jeremy Thomas: He glances at Range as he
walks along, and nods to him in greeting, one stranger to another.
Range Fellow: *Falls down dropping his stick. Quickly recoversgrabing
his stick then* "Well," *thinks* "I'm sorry."
Range Fellow: 9,9,
Malcolm De Witt: He gets bumped into, glancing
up and then blinking at Range. He opens his mouth, surprised, but doesn't say
anything, looking to Jer to see if he does.
Jeremy Thomas: He smiles at Malcolm, who's
honest emotion distracts him from Range enough for the guy to run into Malcolm.
He blinks, surprised at the sudden collision. "Jesus...you two okay?"
Range Fellow: "Hey you where with Karlos.
Looking For cloths." *Seems semi exited to see Malcolm*
Range Fellow: "Nods to the man* "I'm like a dwarf. A tough
little bugger." *Grinning wide showing all his teeth*
Malcolm De Witt: "Uh..." he doesn't
remember looking for clothes. But his memory is shot from all the drugs he did
at an early age. "I'm sorry. I don't recall your name?"
Jeremy Thomas: He nods to Range on his
affirmation that he's okay, and looks to Malcolm, slightly disappointed that
this emotional breakthrough he seemed to inadvertantly caused was disrupted.
"You okay, man?"
Range Fellow: *Holds out his hand* "Name is Mike. I'm kind of a
friend of Karlos'." *Thinks rubbing his chin looking down* "More of a
accuantance really."
Malcolm De Witt: He smiles to Jer, nodding,
looking genuinely grateful to him. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." He
seems a little perturbed at his memory lapse, but maybe that's just cause it's
more polite to remember names and faces than forget them.
Malcolm De Witt: "Mike," He nods and
shakes his hand. "An acquaintance of Karlos'? That's good." He looks
to Jer meaningfully, but it's not clear what he's trying to say with that look.
Abbey Randelle: *abbey walks out of a small
shop, holding a small brown bag, keys jingling in her hand as she walks,
inspecting the back of a package*
Jeremy Thomas: He raises an eyebrow at
Malcolm, as if to indicate he doesn't understand what the younger man is trying
to get across, then smiles at Mike. "Hey, Mike...I'm Jeremy."
Malcolm De Witt: "I think..." He
looks like he's trying to put this delicately. "You two might have some
things in common."
Range Fellow: *Throws his he's hand out.* "Nice to meet you
Jeremy."
Malcolm De Witt: "You know...like..."
He tilts his head at the park.
Range Fellow: *Looks at the younger man questioningly* "How's
that?"
Malcolm De Witt: 3,8,3,9,
Abbey Randelle: *keeps graceful stride as
she notices two men and a child at the end of the block, and thinks nothing of
it, going back to her ingrediant reading*
Jeremy Thomas: He shakes Mike's hand,
smiling. "Same back." he takes his hand back, and looks at Malcolm,
nodding. "Okay...I think I got ya." Shrugs, and smiles. "It's
all good."
Malcolm De Witt: He does notice Abbey coming
along, and smiles, his gaze going a bit far away. But the dreamy look is chased
with a dark thread of...something.
Range Fellow: *Looks from one then the other then back again*
"Huh." *his face wrought with confusion*
Malcolm De Witt: "Uhm..." He looks
away from Abbey toward Jer. "I'm not sure you understand comepletely. I
think...Mike..." He smiles apologetically at Mike, then looks to Jer.
"Could really benefit from talking with you. He's kind of new to...City
life."
Abbey Randelle: *looks up again as she gets
close, wanting to avoid such a rudeness as a collision...and notices Malcolm De
Witt... her brow furrows a little as she approaches, unsure how to react after
last evening*
Jeremy Thomas: He looks at Mike. "You
ever been to Central Park, Mike? Nice little community going there."
Range Fellow: *Starts to look worried and slowly backs away* "Um I
think I have some where to be at now." *A blantant lie*
Range Fellow: "Yeah once." *stopping and looking at the man
with newfound interest* "Why?"
Abbey Randelle: *abbey stops infront of
Malcolm, and choosing Politeness as the best way to go she smiles politely,
murmering* Good evening Mr. De Witt..
Jeremy Thomas: His brow furrows, and he
looks genuinely confused over Mike's sudden fear. "Hey...if I said
something to offend, I didn't mean to...honestly."
Malcolm De Witt: He frowns, looking crushed,
like the last thing in the world he wanted was to scare Mike away.
Jeremy Thomas: ((DLP))
Range Fellow: *Looks up at the female type person beside him then back
to Jeremy*
Abbey Randelle: *furrows her pale brow at
Malcolm's expression.. apparently last night was still with him*
Range Fellow: "No I'm not offended." *Still looks a little
worried*
Malcolm De Witt: He blinks,
his attention suddenly derailed by Abbey. He smiles at her, looking both
trapped and happy to see her. "Good evening, Miss Randelle."
Jeremy Thomas: He takes a deep breathe
though his nose, and exhales slowly, then nods at Mike. "I've got some
friends in there. Good, close friends. People who I think are possibly your
friends, too."
Jeremy Thomas: He throws a quick glance at
Abbey, and a smile and nod quickly follow before he looks back at Mike.
Malcolm De Witt: "I should be going,"
He says to Mike and Jer, his entire expression saying it's all his fault.
"I'm terribly sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. But I thought it
was...important."
Abbey Randelle: *curves her lips into a
small smile, though her eyes speak to her confusion at Malcolm's reaction* You
must go so soon?
Range Fellow: *Thinks choosing his words carefully* Well,hum, I only
know one man I have met in Central Park."
Jeremy Thomas: He smiles to Malcolm and puts
his hand on the younger man's shoulder calmingly. "You didn't do anything,
Malcolm...you were right It's not your fault. Relax."
Jeremy Thomas: To Mike: "What's his
name? Maybe I know him."
Range Fellow: *Thinks for a moment. seems to be drawing a blank*
"I'm not really sure.Only met him once. But if I saw him I could point him
out."
Malcolm De Witt: He steps away from the two
men, shaking his head at Abbey. Looking a bit embarrased. "No, Mr. Thomas
here was just walking me home, and we--literally--ran into Mike."
Abbey Randelle: *looks from Malcolm to
Jeremy, then looks mildly startled as she actually looks at range, and realizes
he's not a child* Oh, I'm sorry. How rude of me to interrupt. *she holds up a
small white hand in a gesture of apology* I will leave you to your discussion
if you please.
Range Fellow: *Glances at the woman. But doesn't say anything.*
Malcolm De Witt: "Don't be silly.
I'll...escort you. Where do you need to go?"
Jeremy Thomas: He walks a few steps away,
motioning with his head for Mike to follow.
Range Fellow: *Walks along beside the new person*
Jeremy Thomas: He whispers something to
Mike.
Abbey Randelle: *smiles demurely.. she could
count on Malcolm to be the gentleman* I was on my way back to central park. I
run there on occassion.
Malcolm De Witt: He glances over his shoulder
to make sure the others are getting along and says "Have a nice night,
gentlemen." He gives them both a smile, but nods to Jer, in particular, a
deep gratitude in his eyes. "I hope we run into one another again soon."
Malcolm De Witt: "Ohhh...." He shakes
his head. "I really don't think that's a good place to run. Not at night.
It's...quite dangerous."
Range Fellow: *Whispers to Jeremy then looks down with a twinge of
sadness.*
Abbey Randelle: *abbey chimes softly* nice
meeting you gentleman. *she smiles up at Dewitt, her grey eyes teasing, even if
her mouth was still curved into a polite smile* I am capable mr. De witt.
though it is true, that I usually choose to run in Battary.
Jeremy Thomas: He smiles at Mike, and looks
over at Malcolm, an understanding nod. "See you, Malcolm...I hope so,
too."
Jeremy Thomas: he looks back at Mike, and
whispers
Malcolm De Witt: "Oh...Battery's not so
safe at night, either. You should stay home. Try a treadmill." He pauses
to nod back to Jer, then starts moving quickly along with Abbey, taking her arm
and tugging her along with him. Not forcefully, but as quickly as he can get
her to move.
Range Fellow: *Looks most excited* "Really?!"
Jeremy Thomas: He smiles and nods.
"Really."
Abbey Randelle:
*looks up with bemusement at
Malcolm, allowing him to set the pace, and keeping it easily* I am afraid I
prefer the outdoors Mr. De witt. Surely there is nothing in either park that a
swift step to the instep cannot prevent?
Malcolm De Witt: "Well, even a
championship fencer can't parry a bullet." He reminds her, seeming to
breathe a bit easier as they leave the park behind.
Range Fellow: *Nearly jumps up and howls with delight. The light in his
eyes shining like never before.*
Malcolm De Witt: "You're quite beautiful,
and there are stories about shootings and such. In both places. If you must run
somewhere outside, then do so during the day. And preferably in Battery Park.
With a trusted friend."
Range Fellow: *But he quickly calms himself*
Abbey Randelle: *smiles, inclining her head
in a slight nod* Touche. *abbey begins to slow, gently forcing Malcolm to
reduce his pace, blushing a little and dropping her head at his compliment, she
murmers* I will take your words to into consideration Mr. De Witt. thank you.
Jeremy Thomas: He takes a drag of his
cigarette and grins at Mike. "Listen, I tell you what...where are you
staying right now? You seem like you have a lot you want to learn about us, and
I'd be happy to teach you."
Malcolm De Witt: "Central Park
is...littered with those...homeless people. And their dogs. And while they may
seem quaint enough in the day, they're not so...pleasant at night. And I'm sure
you're aware of the kind of target you pose for kidnapping?"
Range Fellow: "I have a little apartment."
Jeremy Thomas: "Got
a phone?"
Abbey Randelle: *seems amused at the idea of
anyone kidnapping her. They'd have a very unlucky time of it. She looks up at
Malcolm, judging whether or not to bear any more of his lecture, and sighs
quietly* Yes Mr. De witt. I appreciate your concern greatly. I shall be more
careful in future.
Range Fellow: *Smiles, then takes off his backpack. Digs in one of the
front pouches and pulls one out.* "Yeah Karlos baught it for me."
*Beems with pride*
Malcolm De Witt: ((Gma's pretty much deaf, so I
get to hear whatever she's watching no matter where I am in the house. *G* And
my comp can't play that URL. Sorry. Maybe when I'm home on the weekend))
Range Fellow: ((bought))
Malcolm De Witt: He's quite sincere, almost
desperately so. "I'm sorry." He sighs and looks away. "I didn't
mean to lecture. It's just that...I don't wish for you to come to any
harm."
Range Fellow: ((Well I am a music Addict but the t.v. has no power over
me anymore!))
Jeremy Thomas: ((When you get a chance,
check it out. Any ALW fan will do what I did, and shiver through the whole
thing. Minnie Driver is playing Carlotta, and Gerard Butler is playing the
Phantom. YESSSSS!!!))
Jeremy Thomas: He writes down a number on a
piece of papoer, and hands it to Mike. "That's my cell number. Give me a
call, and we'll talk. I'm thinking that you have much to learn, my
padawan...and if you're lucky, I can teach ya some of it." He grins.
Abbey Randelle: *says with genuine
appreciation* And I thank you for your care. I do appreciate it, and will try
to be more careful,as per your request. *smiles, joking quietly* afterall, I am
likely no use as a dance partner, if I am in a basement being held for ransom.
yes?
Malcolm De Witt: "I would hunt for
you," he says, eyes flashing in uncharacteristic anger and resolve.
"I would make sure you were returned. And those who took you were
punished."
Range Fellow: *Smiles at the larger man* "When do you want me to
call you?"
Jeremy Thomas: He shrugs.
"Whenever you get the chance...besides now, that is. This hippy with a
heart of gold right here's got to get some sleep." ((Which is true.))
Abbey Randelle: *starts a little.. was this
the same man whom only last night got so unhappy about the idea of merely
PLAYING at combat? Abbey Surveys him thoughfully, murmering* I am pleased to
hear of it Mr. De Witt. Though you might find yourself alone in the search.
*she smiles weakly*
Malcolm De Witt: "Why?" he asks, as
if he can't imagine no one wanting to help her.
Range Fellow: *Smiles up at the man* Good night then.
Range Fellow: ((Fuck yeah .......just found my Jack Johnson
CD!!!!!!!!!))
Abbey Randelle: mmm *knows she's slipped up
and said more than is needed.. deciding vague truth is the way to go, she looks
at her brown bag and says softly* My father is abroad, and reluctant to return
more than once a year. I'm afraid it would have to be a dire emergancy forhim
to depart france unscheduled.
Malcolm De Witt: 3,7,6,2,8,
Malcolm De Witt: ((That's per+sub to catch her
misleading him))
Malcolm De Witt: ((diff would be her man+sub or
acting))
Abbey Randelle: ((gotcha))
Abbey Randelle: 5,3,5,
Abbey Randelle: ((oy vey))
Malcolm De Witt: He frowns, noting her lie, but
too polite to mention it. "If you were my daughter, I'd drop everything to
save you."
Jeremy Thomas: He nods to Mike and puts his
hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Welcome home, friend. We've been
waiting for you." He smiles at him, then walks over to Malcolm and Abbey.
"Hey...sorry to interrupt, but I won't be long." He looks at Malcolm.
Listen...if you wanna talk at all, whenever...give me a call." He holds
out a piece of paper with a phone number on it to Malcolm.
Malcolm De Witt: He glances up to Jer, then
smiles and takes the paper from him. "Thank you." He nods to Jer.
"ANd please...tell Ezra if you see him...I really meant no offense."
Abbey Randelle: *looks at Jeremy mildly,
waiting until he is gone to continue murmering* Your daughter Chalina((??)) is
fortunate to have such a doting father.
Jeremy Thomas: He nods. "I will."
Smiles at Abbey. "Miss..." A last smile at Malcolm, then Mike down
the way, and he's off, heading home and feeling very fulfilled for the evening.
Jeremy Thomas: ((Gone...laterz, all!!))
Abbey Randelle: (brb.. expelling liquid from
my bladder)
Malcolm De Witt: He waves to Jeremy, and then
to Mike, if he's heading out, and then smiles, going a bit sheepish.
"Everybody should have someone who loves them fiercely.
Unconditionally."
Abbey Randelle: *sadness clings to her fair
features as she looks off, considering* Everyone should.
Malcolm De Witt:
He frowns, looking quite
pained at her pain. He puts a hand on her shoulder. "Would you care to
talk about it?"
Abbey Randelle: *shakes
her head gently* Thank you Malcolm, but I'm fine. *she smiles up at him, only
her eyes sad now , she murmers* Thank you.
Malcolm De Witt: He nods, knowing it's a lie,
but again, too polite to talk about it. He removes his hand from her shoulder
and asks "Where am I escorting you, exactly?"
Abbey Randelle: *Abbey lifts an eyebrow,
lips curved up* as i am no longer to run in the park, you would be escoting me
to my vehicle, which is only a few blocks up. *she jingles the keys in her
hand*
Malcolm De Witt: "Ah." He smiles.
"What sort of vehicle is it?"
Abbey Randelle: nothing as spectacular as
yours i regret. *she smiles, a little embarrased* It is the small white saturn
you see up ahead.
Malcolm De Witt:
"Oh." He looks a bit
disappointed that their time together has been so short. "Well, that's a
very nice car."
Abbey Randelle: *smiles,
a hint of dissappointment tugging at the edges of her lips* You flatter it.
*she chuckles, looking at her car forlornly*
Malcolm De Witt: Her sadness really seems to
bother him, but again he doesn't say anything directly about it. "You
could always drive me home..." he suggests.
Abbey Randelle: *brightens mutedly, decorum
filtering it into an acceptable emotional response... an eye twinkle
accompanied by a polite smile* It would be a pleasure, Mr. De witt *she unlocks
the doors with a beep*
Malcolm De Witt: He pauses, looking through the
window before climbing inside, so as not to crush anythign she might have on
the seat or something.
Abbey Randelle: *abbey waits until Malcolm
gets into the car, then slides gracefully into the drivers seat. Techno blares
as she starts the car, which she hastily turns down, unable to contain a blush,
she then begins to drive carefully through the streets*
Abbey Randelle: *murmers softly* I apologize
for the music...
Malcolm De Witt: He smiles at the music,
remembering, and glancing over to her.
Malcolm De Witt: "Thank you, too," he
quips playfully.
Abbey Randelle: *abbey smiles fully,
glancing over at Malcolm, savoring the memory of their dance, her eyes
glimmering with passionate anticipation of their next dance lesson* I look
forward to dancing with you again
Malcolm De Witt: "I do, too." But his
smile isn't quite as unabashed as it's been in the past. Something seems to be
pulling at him.
Malcolm De Witt: "You know where I live,
right?" He glances over at her. "The Knecht-Ritter Building?"
Malcolm De Witt: He pronounces the hard 'K'.
The whole thing sounds like "Kuh-Nekt Reet-er"
Abbey Randelle: Yes, I was aware of that.
*abbey pays careful attention to the road for a few moments, letting her mind
sort out the conflicting responses she's getting from Malcolm..then she thinks
of a possible reason, and murmers politely* Will this set up be acceptable to
your wife Mr. De Witt?
Malcolm De Witt: "Oh, yes," he nods
emphatically. "She's quite happy about it."
Abbey Randelle: Very Good. *she nods, both
releived she is not a problemand irritated that she is no further into knowing
what is bothering him* I'm glad she supports your descision to pursue dance.
Malcolm De Witt:
"She wants me to be happy."
But again, there's a bit of a dark thread there. As if he's afraid he'll
disappoint her.
Abbey Randelle: *looks
for a parking spot near the Knect-Ritter Building, murmering softly* She sounds
like a very pleasant woman. *she smiles as the car rolls to a stop* I look
forward to meeting her.
Malcolm De Witt: "Oh, you can pull into
the lot underground," he motions to the entrance.
Malcolm De Witt: "She's...wonderful,"
He says that with an utterly dreamy look.
Abbey Randelle: *nods* My mistake. *pulls
the car out and head underground*
Range Fellow: ((Do you want him to drain Ita? he'll do it!))
Range Fellow: *blushes* that was for the fuzz
Abbey Randelle: ((no jackass! leave my gypsy
alone you god damn frog!))
Malcolm De Witt:
((*G* no wonder it's taking
her so long to post. You evil Range, you. *G*))
Abbey Randelle: *pays
close attention letting Malcolm give her directions as to where to go, finally
stopping*
Abbey Randelle: ((*giggles* up for some
trouble in the park after this, Singha?? .. or are you all tuckered like?))
Malcolm De Witt: They pass a gatethouse at the
entrance to the building. The arm is down, but when the guard sees Malcolm, he
opens it and waves them down into the underground parking structure. "Just
over there by the elevators," he points. "Would you like to come up
and see where we'll be dancing?"
Malcolm De Witt: ((Ah, didn't know we were
finished here. *G*))
Range Fellow: ((Hummm the park ahe))
Range Fellow: ((and I'm not a frog!!!))
Abbey Randelle: *considers, still bemused by
Malcolm's husbandly adoration..* Yes, thank you. *parks the car and gets out
nimbly.. man.. sometimes she moves like she lacks any normal physical
restrictions*
Malcolm De Witt: ((And Truthfully, Adam's not
feeling very patient, so things could get really ugly very quickly.))
Malcolm De Witt: 2,6,4,7,
Abbey Randelle: ((your assamite is french.
he is a frog. Just as my gangrel is a Pikey or a Tinky))
Malcolm De Witt: He gets out as well, smiling
as he watches her, and escorts her to the elevator.
Abbey Randelle: ((ok.. no need for poor ita
to get torn to shreds when she comes with a peace offering))
Range Fellow: ((Well so says you.Oh but I was going to scratch him
behide the ear just so!))
Malcolm De Witt: ((Ah, well, Ita he might
tolerate. But anyone with attitude who's even remotely threatening he's likely
to put an end to quickly. Or they'll end him. *G*))
Abbey Randelle: *she leans against the
inside rail of the elevator, excitement beginning to mount inside as she thinks
of dancing*
Malcolm De Witt: He enters the elevator, and
presses the button for the top floor in the bank of buttons. Floor sixty three.
Malcolm De Witt: As the doors closes and they
begin to rise, he glances around, stifling a yawn.
Malcolm De Witt: 2,8,6,6,
Range Fellow: ((no Lesaro just wants to play fetch))
Abbey Randelle: *abbey seems content to
stand quietly, as it is taking a serious act of will for her to suppress the
JOY bubbling benaeth the surface of her decorum*
Malcolm De Witt: His eyes get suddenly big, his
expression hanging between terror and lust. He groans, spining around, looking
around intently, as if searching for something invisible.
Malcolm De Witt: 5,4,5,5,
Malcolm De Witt: 9,3,10,5,3,2,
Malcolm De Witt:
And then he cries out,
doubling over, puking violently in the corner.
Abbey Randelle: *furrows
her brow, heart leaping a little, she murmers uncertaintly* Malcolm? *she looks
more concerned then appalled, used to such things at home with her drugged up
booze addict mother, and she puts a hand on his back, rubbing him as he is
slumped* Are you alright?
Malcolm De Witt: He whimpers, slamming his hand
on the elevator buttons trying to get the thing to stop and open.
Malcolm De Witt: 10,
Malcolm De Witt: And open it does, luckily onto
the very room he wanted to show her. He staggers out as if his life depended on
it, puking again.
Malcolm De Witt: (roll perr+alert))
Abbey Randelle: *abbey follows quickly,
sidestepping as Malcolm vomits again, face full of calm concern*
Abbey Randelle: 3,4,2,8,
Malcolm De Witt: 10,9,3,5,
Abbey Randelle: *says softly, gently rubbing
the small of Mr. De Witt's back* How may I assist? *looks around for a towel
and a bucket*
Malcolm De Witt: He takes several deep breaths
in the massive room Abbey sees they are on on the sixty-third floor, out onto
the north side of a large 100x90 foot open space that takes up almost the
entire floor of the building, offering a 290 degree view of the city and the
bay, quite spectacular since with the WTC gone this is the highest building in
Lower Manhattan. A long bar, manned by several wait staff, runs east to west
through the center of the room, dividing it roughly in half. Spotlights and
plasma screens drop down from the ceiling,. In the main area there are rows of
tables and chairs arranged to give a good view of the stage, and on the south
side of the bar there are more tables and chairs, accessible by a short
pass-thru that bisects the bar. At the west end of the bar, a dance floor
surrounds the stage like a moat. For those who need a break, there’s 40x30 foot
crash space in the northeast corner behind the elevators, filled with soft
suede pillows and restful décor. Those who are sitting on the south side of the
bar can see that the southeast corner of the floor has been walled off to
provide a cozy private club.
Malcolm De Witt:
He groans and tries to hide
his face in his hands, murmuring "close the elevator. Send it away."
Malcolm De Witt:
5,9,3,6,
Malcolm De Witt: He doesn't puke this time,
managing to get to his feet and staggering quickly away from it, toward the
stage at the far end.
Malcolm De Witt: 2,10,6,4,
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: ((Abbey
can see that he's got a tent in his pants. ))
Abbey Randelle: *abbey closes the elevator
promptly, then glides back to Malcolm, following him to the stage, and grabbing
a small bucket from the wait staff on he way back, moving to kneel by Malcolm*
Malcolm De Witt: He yelps and hangs a sudden
left into the pass through from the bar. Grabbing whatever bottle is handy and
trying to uncork it.
Malcolm De Witt: ((Ah, sorry there's no wait
staff here. The place is empty. *G* Should have mentioned that.))
Malcolm De Witt -> Malcolm De
Witt: 9,
Malcolm De Witt: He uncorks some aged Jamaican
rum and pours it not down his throat, but down his nose.
Malcolm De Witt: 6,2,2,7,1,3,
Abbey Randelle: ((laughs, fine she hops over
the bar for the bucket then)) *one white eyebrow shoots up, her lips
threatening to curl, then concern overrides her mild amusement, and she calmly
strokes his back, holding the bucket for him, she reaches for the bottle*
Malcolm?
Malcolm De Witt: He whines like a little girl
as the alcohol burns his nasal passages, but it seems to stop the vomiting at least.
Tho now he smells like booze and his eyes are watering like hell.
Abbey Randelle:
The rum if you please...
*she takes away the rum, and suddenly goes into the same routine she does with
her mother, calm, comforting, and pleasant, she strokes his hair calmingly, not
caring that she smells now of vomit and rum*
Abbey Randelle: *she
fetches a white silk monogrammed hanky from her coat pocket, and wipes Malcolms
face gently, hoping to clear off some of the alchohal, murmers* I don't think
anything Mr. De witt.
Malcolm De Witt: He--perhaps reluctantly--gives
up the bottle, clinging to the bar, half draped over it, as if unwilling to let
her see his lower half.
Malcolm De Witt: "There's...blood...in the
elevator. I can't...stand the smell of blood."
Malcolm De Witt: He lets her wipe his face
clear, then hides it against his upper arm, utterly ashamed to have her see him
like this.
Malcolm De Witt: "The sight of it,"
he corrects himself. "The sight of blood makes me sick."
Abbey Randelle: *she skids the bottle down
the bar a ways, nodding as she moves his arm over her shoulders, intent on
getting him to one of the couches where he can lie comfortably, she carries her
bucket* I understand, please move with me... *she's strong for such a little girl*
Malcolm De Witt:
She may be strong, but he's
really big. He clings to the bar. "It's alright...I'll be alright...in a
moment. I'm really sorry."
Abbey Randelle: *abbey
looks up at malcolm, still supporting his weight and trying to gently coax him
towards the couches*
Malcolm De Witt: He grits his teeth, part of
him still trying to resist her, tho not as forccefully as he manages to get
control of himself more fully. "This is awful. I'm so terribly
sorry."
Malcolm De Witt: He snorts a bit, and wipes his
eyes, walking under his own power. "I'll call down and have them mop the
elevator. I'm so sorry..."
Abbey Randelle: No apologies nessecary Mr.
De witt. *sets her bucket on the bar, watching Malcolm carefully, murmering* It
is enough to see that you've recovered.
Malcolm De Witt:
He squeezes his eyes, nodding,
face looking a bit purpled and strained from the burning in his nose and
sinuses. He looks deflated. Desolate. "I'll..understand...if you want to
call off our arrangement."
Malcolm De Witt: "Thank
you very much for...the ride home. And for your attention here."
Abbey Randelle: *furrows her brow, and then
stifles an impolite laugh, her voice soft and certain* Malcolm... I am no weak
bellied twit. *walks over to Malcolm and rubs his back soothingly* I have seen
far worse, and am not upset by it. I am simply concerned for you. And as you
react this way to blood, and not dance, I beleive that nothing has changed to
make me call off our arrangement.
Abbey Randelle: *she hops up onto the bar
effortlessly, sits and regards malcolm with a look of concern, and slight
amusement..call off the arrangement indeed*
Malcolm De Witt: He draws in a shuddering
breath, closing his eyes, relaxing slightly under her touch, even as he seems
to grow heavier with sadness. "You're...remarkable. But...I have to tell
you something."
Abbey Randelle: *smooths his hair calmly
from her perch on the bar* What is that Mr. De Witt?
Malcolm De Witt: He opens his mouth, struggling
to fit the words together. His eyes remain closed, tears leaking out the
corners. "My mother and sister were both..." He hesitates, taking
another breath before admitting "very abusive toward me when I was a
child."
Malcolm De Witt: "I don't do well around
women, generally. The scare the piss out of me."
Malcolm De Witt: ((the=they))
Malcolm De Witt: "You are the
first...woman...who is not my wife....who I've been able to spend any time
around without...making a complete fool of myself, in one way or another."
Malcolm De Witt: "Well, up until tonight,
anyways." He motions toward the little smear of vomit over by the
elevator.
Abbey Randelle: I am glad that I may provide
you with some releif, in this aspect then. *pauses in her calm stroking, brow
wrinkled in thought* Is this why you were so tense last evening, or why you are
ill now?
Abbey Randelle: *smiles softly* You have not
made a fool out of yourself yet. I will inform you when you do.
Malcolm De Witt: "You looked like Jeru for
a moment in the car," he admits. "It...frightened me. Brought up some
memories I'd...rather not have recalled."
Malcolm De Witt: "My
illness...tonight...is more related to the treatment I received at the hands of
my Uncle."
Abbey Randelle: *regards Malcolm with a
mixture of muted Sympathy, and admiration, continueing to pet his head
soothingly as she listens quietly, decorum no longer applicable*
Malcolm De Witt:
"But...my..." Again
he falters, before finding it in him to go on. "Mother and sister
were...sexualy abusive...without ever having sex with me...if you can
understand what I mean by that. And so my body sometimes...responds
inappropriately around women...particuarly those I care for. Or find attractive
in some way."
Abbey Randelle: *the
calmness in Abbey's big grey eyes begins to melt into something less far
pleasant, righteous hatred, her voice shakes softly as she draws a long greath
through her nose,* Some people aren't seserving of air.
Abbey Randelle: (deserving)
Abbey Randelle: (greath = breath, jenni =
illeterate)
Malcolm De Witt: He nods, albeit somewhat
sadly. "They're both...gone now. But, before you..agree...to continue our
agreement..." He opens his eyes and looks up at her. "You need to
know that I may...at some time...become very aroused by you. I hope...that
won't be the case. But I want you to promise me that if I ~ever~ tell you to
leave now, you will immediately run and get yourself out of my sight as quickly
as possible."
Malcolm De Witt: His cheeks are flushed, his
ears burnign red, and it's clear it's shamed him somewhat to have admitted any
of this.
Abbey Randelle: *simmers down, eyes losing
some of the steely rage, growing concerned as she looks into malcolms face, she
notes his shame and softens, stroking his neck* I must know why, before i may
answer you truthfully.
Malcolm De Witt: ((Lol it's late you're
allowed.))
Malcolm De Witt:
"Because, as much as I'd
like to say it never happens, I do sometimes lose control. And...do things...I
later regret."
Abbey Randelle: *abbeys
mind plays back some tabloid headlines, and she gets waht she figures is the
drift, she considers, then nods slowly, pitting Malcolm with a confident stare*
I agree, Mr. De Witt, that if you ever get out of control, I will run, or subdue
you so you may do no harm. Is that acceptable?
Malcolm De Witt: "I doubt" he says
emphatically, "you will be able to subdue me in time."
Malcolm De Witt: "Use ~everything~ in your
power to get as far from my sight as you possibly can."
Abbey Randelle: Mr. De Witt.. *her voice is
like steel wrapped in velvet* I have told you several times that i am quite
capable of taking care of myself. I stand by that. *she seems sicerely
confident, near unsettlingly so* You are in competant hands, mr, de witt. *She
smiles softly*
Malcolm De Witt: He rises, regarding her.
"Fine then. Do you know any martial arts? Open hand?"
Abbey Randelle: I have other skills at my
disposal Mr. Dewitt. Rest assured, you will not rape, murder or brutalize me.
*she maintians her soft confident smile* I will not allow it, you are in no
danger of that.
Malcolm De Witt: "I don't think you quite
understand what I'm capable of when I'm...in such a fugue state. It's very much
like someone hopped up on PCP."
Abbey Randelle: *abbey slides off the Bar,
rising to her full height as she looks up at Malcolm, murmering soothingly* Nor
do I think you understand what I am capable of. *she smiles softly, trying to
put the tall man's mind at ease* Then shall we both agree to take each other's
claims as serious? Perhaps then we will have no mishaps.
Malcolm De Witt: "I guess all those years
of drug use put me...at risk of stress related flashbacks."
Malcolm De Witt: He sighs at her, looking her
over sadly. She seems so small, so fragile. So beautiful. And without warning,
he strikes.
Malcolm De Witt: 3,9,7,8,5,
Malcolm De Witt: His fingers touch her throat,
that soft cartilige there, hard enough to make her very much aware that he's
tapped her, but not hard enough to cause any damage.
Abbey Randelle: ((may i attempt to hop over
the bar?))
Abbey Randelle: (*laughs* aparently NOT))
Malcolm De Witt:
((she doesn't have time to
move before he does. But can roll awareness, Tho. If she has it.))
Abbey Randelle:
2,1,10,
Abbey Randelle: *laughs* I suck!
Abbey Randelle: ((...))
Malcolm De Witt: (Ah, she doesn't sense
anything. *G* Sorry))
Malcolm De Witt: "Try to block me, before
I do it again," he challenges.
Malcolm De Witt: 5,9,7,6,3,
Abbey Randelle -> Malcolm De Witt: ((she's
got some serious fear going on, so she's going t see if she can't fix her odds
a little... *grins* may i use my magics?))
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: ((Uhm...yeah.
If you like. *G*))
Abbey Randelle: *wide eyed at malcolms
challange, Abbey started Mumering to herself, asking fate to increase the odds
of her blocking him*
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: ((What's
she trying to do?))
Abbey Randelle: 2,5,7,
Malcolm De Witt: He hits her in the throat
while she's halfway through her murmuring, tho it's just a tap, like before.
Abbey Randelle: ((she's trying coincidental
magic, an entropy lvl 2 thingy.. to increase the odds of her blocking him. ))
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: ((I mean
paradigmnwise. *G*))
Abbey Randelle: (so much for the magic)
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: ((oops
sorry cross post. *G*))
Abbey Randelle: ((oh! she's ordering fate
around))
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: (('m not
sure what the diff for something lke that would be, what level sphere is she
using?))
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: (('m not
sure what the diff for something lke that would be, what level sphere is she
using?))
Abbey Randelle -> Malcolm De Witt: ((2))
Abbey Randelle -> Malcolm De Witt: ((last
time the difficulty was 5,))
Malcolm De Witt: Just as she finishes the rote,
he strikes again.
Malcolm De Witt: 2,5,9,4,2,
Abbey Randelle:
6,3,9,8,8,6,7,
Abbey Randelle -> Malcolm De Witt: ((that
was dex plus dodge, by the way))
Malcolm De Witt: And tho she's not able to keep
him from striking so god awfully quickly, he does not do so as precisely as
before, his hand sailing past her ear.
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: ((What's
the duration on something like that?)
Abbey Randelle: *abbey tcks in the back of
her throat* This wasn't the kind of dancing I had in Mind, Mr. De witt.
Abbey Randelle -> Malcolm De Witt: (I was
just doing it for HER ..malcolm is the same.. but abbey increased HER chances
of blocking him))
Abbey Randelle -> Malcolm De Witt: (i'd
say its just a one shot thing. hows that grab ye?)
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: ((but she
didn't block. She dodged. *G* And I was applying her sux directly against his
as a sort of luck block. *G*))
Abbey Randelle -> Malcolm De Witt: ((*laughs*
damnit. Block and dodge are different aren't they! *shakes her brain out* aww
well.. dictate what happens, kemosabe!))
Malcolm De Witt -> Abbey Randelle: ((without
time magic, she won't be able to move faster tha him, which is what he's trying
to show her. That he can strike before she can get her spell off))
Abbey Randelle -> Malcolm De Witt: ((*laughs*
she only has 1 in time, damnit!))
Malcolm De Witt: He sighs at her mention of
dancing and nods. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to illustrate a point...that
might save your life."
Malcolm De Witt: He turns away from her, movign
over to the bar to call to have the elevator scrubbed down. "You can use
the second elevator." He motions to it. "But I really should stay
here until they've both been cleaned."
Abbey Randelle: *smiles softly* I understand
your point, Malcolm. and I will seek escape as my first option. *tilts her
head, face concerned* Will that be acceptable? *she nods as he mentions the
elevators*
Malcolm De Witt: He turns to her, phone still
in hand. A slow smile breaks across his face, and he looks genuinely moved by
her acceptance. "Yes."
Abbey Randelle:
*murmers softly* I am
releived to hear you say so. I am loathe to lose the oppurtunity to dance with
such a skilled partner... *her eyes sparkle with pleasure as she walks
gracefully towards Malcolm and the elevators*
-> : ((Stops in to say
good night))
: ((Stops in to say good night))
Malcolm De Witt: ((She'd be walking away from
him and toward the elevators. He's gotten as far away from them as he can.
*G*))
Malcolm De Witt: ((night d00d! l8r))
Abbey Randelle: ((good night myterious
green!))
: ((range))
Abbey Randelle: ((ok, well she'd walk over
to him then, its impolite to just leave)
Abbey Randelle: ((night range!))
Malcolm De Witt: He watches her go, his smile
growing, but his eyes still sad.
Malcolm De Witt: ((okies. So we say they hugged
and then she went? Cause I gotta sleep now. *G*))
NiraliKumar: ( NiGhTeRs!)
Abbey Randelle: (agreed) sleep is good
tonight! Night! thanks for the fun and the vomit!! ))
Malcolm De Witt: ((Thanks you too. *G* Lotta
fun.))
Abbey Randelle: ((night! *runs away*))
Malcolm De Witt: ((Night Nirali. Hope you had
fun today))
Abbey Randelle: ((yeah.. sorry about the
headshot! *laughs*))