Fish and Ships

Summary:
November 12, 2014: Barry checks in on Mack.

<Location Description>


Characters

NPCs

  • Rufus

Mood Music:
None


Mack has been home for a couple of days, since her stay in the hospital. It was rough for her the first night. Even setting foot back on her boat, the Quint's Folly, was a struggle. But then Rufus bounded out to escort her up the gangplank, and the young captain found her courage. Courage blossomed into complete and utter defiance, as she moved her gym equipment into an open spot in the room where the winch engine resides, and forced herself to conduct her workouts where she'd nearly drowned.

She's a tough cookie, though it helps that memories of the supernatural experience have dulled a bit since they happened. Tonight Mack is sitting in the cramped galley of the ship, sipping hot coffee, while she researches just what it's going to cost her to repair the damage done to the motor when the cursed part melted to slag. Her budget is looking very very stretched. Rufus lies under the table of the booth she's in, lying on her feet.

From outside the galley, there's a rap upon the door. Outside is a slight, clean cut, young looking person. The guy she met last week: Barry Allen. He's holding a brown paper bag that has grease spots on it and his breath is visible in the air.

Rufus lets out a wulf and pads over to the steel door. Mack pulls down on the locking bar and hauls it opened, looking surprised at seeing Barry there. She's wrapped up in a heavy sweater and sweat pants, with work boots on still. Her St. Brendan medallion is visible around her neck, the patron Saint of fishermen. "Barry?" she asks, her nose twitching at the smell of food. "It's cold out there, come in."

"Hi Mack, thanks." Barry shuts the door behind him and, once he does, takes a minute to shake off the cold. Finally, he holds the bag of food out towards her. "I figured after your ordeal, you probably weren't out getting much fishing done. So I got a fish sandwich for you. And some frieds. I came to see how you were holding up."

"That's thoughtful of you," Mack says with a small smile. She looks tired. Nightmares still happen, but she's doing her best to hold it together. She takes the bag and sets it on the table at one of the galley booths. "Want some coffee?" she offers.

Rufus, all 170 pounds of Leonberger that he is, snuffles at Barry's shoes the sits at his feet, wagging his tail, tongue lolling, waiting to be petter.

"No problem." Barry smiles when he sees the dog sidle up to him and he reaches down to give some scratching. "Oh, no thank you. I try to stay away from coffee. You should see how jittery it makes me." It actually has no effect. Just like alcohol. Or any other of that sort of thing. What doesn't kill him, makes him boring.

"Have some cocoa packets if you don't mind hot water and Swiss Miss," Mack offers. "One of the hands who helps out now and then is a hot cocoa junkie." She chuckles a bit, her fingers playing with the medal as she settles back into the booth, opening the bag. "You really didn't have to do this, Barry, but I appreciate it. I'm going to be stuck at the dock for a while until I can repair the damage to the winch motor. I did a real number on it. I think. Or whoever rescued me did. I think the Flash was there, and maybe Chauncey, and someone else. It's all a little fuzzy."

"Winch motor?" Barry says with a winch…or is that a wince of his own. He's not really sure how boats are put together. Did he wreck her livelihood as he tried to extracate her? Was she going to lose a lot of business now? This doesn't sit well with him, but he's not sure what to say or how to fix it. "I sure am sad that this happened to you, Mack. How long you think you'll be out of comission for?"

"I'm hoping no more than two weeks," Mack says, before taking a bite of her sandwich. She chases it down with some coffee. "I can do the repairs myself, it's just waiting on parts that will stall it out. No more ordering from shady sellers for this gal. That part I got melted down."

"Oh, hot chocolate is fine, yeah," Barry says. The bit had him thinking about other stuff and he didn't realize he was being rude. "Do you have any idea what or who it was that wanted to hurt you? And more importantly, why?"

"I think, if I want to stay out of a padded room, the answer I'm supposed to give you is that the part was faulty, and when it melted down it gave off a gas that caused hallucinations." Mack looks like she believes that about as much as she believes in Santa Claus. She gets up to go to the industrial coffee machine to get hot water from it to make Barry a mug of instant cocoa. "But I think we all know that isn't what happened. I don't really have answers. I think maybe the shady salesman I bought the part from was messing with me or something." She returns to the booth and sets the mug in front of the young man.

"Look, Mack, I'm not here to pass judgement on you or anything like that at all. I just came to make sure you're okay. I mean, even though I work with the cops, I'm not trying to dig for more information or anything like that," Barry rambles. "What I mean is that, whatever you think happened isn't gonna come back to haunt you or anything like that." He grabs the mug and nods to her, "Thanks."

"I dunno, Barry. What I saw can't be possible, but I saw it, and I think it was real. This wasn't like super heroes and spandex or even aliens. This was something…" Mack pauses and rubs her medal between thumb and forefinger nervously. "…I've never been super religious. Grandad was a little, and I always gave lip service here and there, but what I saw was wrong, wrong to the core. Unnatural."

"It's funny. I have….had…a friend back in Central City who used to say that I spent my whole life looking for the impossible. I tend to focus more on science than on the supernatural but…" Barry shakes his head at Mack. "What you saw is what you saw. Your state of mind at the time would need to be evaluated, but that doesn't mean what you saw wasn't there."

"And hallucinations don't explain the seawater they found in my lungs, or the moderate hypothermia. I just think people want the simple answer, because the complicated one is scary as hell," Mack admits, shoveling in more food. "How are things for you though, we're a little early for our weekly meeting, and this isn't IHOP, but it works, right?"

"I'm not on the case, unfortunately. It's being looked at by someone in my office. If you'd like, I could take a look at the results—I wanted to respect your privacy." Barry's eyebrows raise up, "Yeah, it's a bit early. I heard the call come over, and saw the case come in. Sorry, I just wanted to see you were okay."

"And you're a good guy to do that. I know I'm pretty much a stranger, but it's pretty clear you're not a native New Yorker. You're too kind." Mack chuckles a little, and her spirit seems to lift a bit. "Don't look into the case. I just want it behind me. Already moved my workout gear into the room it happened in. I won't let anything chase me off my boat."

Barry nods, "Understood. I won't pry." Despite really wanting to, Barry will stick to his word. "Moving on can be helpful, Mack. It's probably a smart take."

"You don't make a living fishing the Atlantic without having a solid backbone, especially not as a woman," Mack points out to Barry with a small smile. She feeds Rufus a French fry and the dog looks to be very happy about that. He shuffles over to Barry as if to see whether or not the guy has some more goodies for him. "Anything crazy coming across your desk these days? The news has been pretty nuts."

"Just a girl who blows up people she comes into contact on accident," Barry says with a shrug. "Metahuman or mutant. That and a couple murder cases, but I'm not really supposed to talk about those. You know how it is."

"Well then, see? I feel better already. I don't make people blow up if I come into contact with them. Life is not so bad," Mack declares. Rufus whines a bit. "I hate to kick you out, but Rufus knows it's time to take him to do his business before we batten down for the night."

"Not a problem. It was good seeing you, Mack. Have a good night, and take care of yourself." Barry says as he gets up and gives a way. "I hope you feel better soon."


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