Summary:
January 3, 2015: Reese calls Hal to talk about finding Kida.
Green-Wood Cemetary
Where the dead take naps and the living walk all over them.
Characters
NPCs
- <Name of NPC or "None">
- <Use same pattern for all npcs>
Mood Music:
[*<http://insert.video.or.music.link.here>]
It was midnight. She slipped out of the room sometime in the middle of the night the day after New Years, the second. Pair of jeans on that fit well, a long sleeved shirt, and a jacket that probably hadn't been worn in days, and a pair of flat shoes that she found in the garbage that carried a smell of spoiled food. There was a lettuce inside the sole once, but she picked it out. At least her toes won't freeze, even though she was still cold.
For some reason or another, she found herself in the Cemetary, all alone and cold, she could hear something off in the distance but she really, really didn't know what it was. So, she decided to busy herself, the phone that Hal gave her pulled out and toyed with, probably sending weird random texts to his phone as she pushes along the screen, silently cursing herself an her inability to learn modern technology. Or better yet, her refusal.
Hal Jordan flies in from above, having been getting strange signalas from the phone he gave to Reese. He realizes he probably should've concentrated on it having a more effective method of communication than just pretty much a beeper. On the other hand, it's not like she could text him anyway. Could she? He doesn't know Braille, so there's no way it could have Braille.
Just in case she's in trouble - and, really, just because he's curious and has nothing better to do and he liked her and…what is he making excuses to himself, anyway - he flies in, his Green Lantern uniform dissolving into normal clothes as the energy dims around him. "If you're trying to pretend you're a ghost, you're doing it all wrong. You have put a sheet on your head and go "Whooooooooooooo wooo woo wooo WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Where one would get frustrated and throw the blasted phone thing away, she just stuffs it into her pockets. A tombstone taken up and sat upon with her feet swinging, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she glances down. And then.. the sound of footsteps, or was it a footstep? Did he jump?
But it was his voice alright, she didn't need to be scared or run away for once, though.. at any point, could she even get scared?
She has to laugh a little, shaking her head slightly. "I'm not trying to be a ghost. I just.. wound up here for some reason."
Hal Jordan considers, "My immediate response should be 'we all do', but that would kind of make me a grim, philosophical asshole, going on about mortality. I would have to start writing poetry and making etchings of gravestones. Smoke clove cigarettes. It would be a whole thing. So instead, I'll just say, "Well…good. Don't be a ghost." he says.
He walks over, "Room enough on that tombstone for two, or am I going to have to go and desecrate some other poor bastard?" he asks.
"That is actually my response as well. Great minds think a like?"
She doesn't hop down from the tombstone, but she does lean back a little to swing a leg over the top, straddling the stone with her hands pressed to the middle so that he'd have enough room to sit. Honestly, she didn't take up much room, but.. she wanted to face him even if she couldn't see. She actually likes this kid.
"No other person. Just this poor bastard…" She'd lean to the side to see who it is, but the obvious was there. "How did you find me so fast?"
Hal Jordan smiles, "Oh, I'm following you, of course, stalking your every move and keeping a daily diary of everything you do. Soon, I will be able to build a nice stalker shrine for me to talk to every night before I sleep," he says. "That, or I was just nearby. Gotta be one of those."
It's certainly not that he can fly twice the speed of sound. Definitely not that.
"The thing I gave you has a GPS pinger thingie. I dunno, I'm not a tech geek, but it pops up a little map and I follow it and boom, there you are. Hanging out in a graveyard, straddling it like a cowgirl. Creepy. Kinda hot, but creepy."
Reese couldn't help but smirk. He always had something to say even though there was really nothing to be said at all. "I'll go with the former. You were stalking me." She nods with certainty. "You were. There are no ifs, ands, and butts about it."
His mentioning of creepy causes her to grin, and with a slight lean forward, she lightly pats the stone in front of her for him to sit. "My real name is Seikatsu Takeda." She pauses. "Or Takeda Seikatsu, in traditional terms. I felt I needed to tell you that."
Hal Jordan nods slowly, "Okay. Did you tell me because you wanted to see how badly I'd fuck up the pronunciation or because you're in the witness protection program and you want to make sure I'm not here to kill you?" he asks.
He hops up to straddle a tombstone right across from her, a dark turtleneck shielding him from the cold. He does, however, warm the air again, like he can't help himself when he sees her bare feet. That's gotta suck. That or it means something. But Hal's not a detective. "My real name's Harold. Takeda Seikatsu is way better than Harold," he says.
"So…what's up with the shoe thing?"
She shakes her head slightly, a little smile drawing upon her lips. "No. I told you for other reasons." There was no sense in lying on her behalf. "If you were here to kill me I'm sure you would have done it already."
As he settles in right across from her, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, opening them to look away then as to not unnerver him with her almost blank staring. "I think I like Hal better. Reese is my name as well, just my middle name. Which ever is best for you." She frowns a little, glancing down towards her feet, the sentiment was there, at least. "These flats? I found them in the garbage. They're not much and I think there are holes in them. And it's real simple, really. I don't have a job, no money, nothing. So I use what I can." She pauses, then grins. "What's up with your shoe thing?"
Hal Jordan smiles. The eyes don't actually bother him, not in the least. His best friend in the Corps, Kilowog, looks like a bodybuilder with a calamari for a head. Weird eyes don't really mean much to him anymore. Of course, most people don't have Hal's experience with alien species. He wasn't sure any human did, actually. Strange, that they seemed to know of them, but so little curiosity about the stars remained. But, then, Hal had never wondered much himself until he was drawn to a spaceship and handed a ring.
It's always more important when it's personal.
"My shoe thing is that I really like sneakers. I wear them even when I have to wear a suit, which isn't often. I wear boots a lot, too, because you need a solid tread when you're flying. You don't want your foot to slip, believe me. I always hated dress shoes, even as a kid. Those are my shoe things"
"You're blind, but also pretty and obviously smart. I'm not saying you're being lazy, I'm saying it seems like you might not be working for a reason. I'm saying…you're weird. Cool, but weird. I can relate. But you're definitely hard to categorize."
She listens, there wasn't a smug look upon her face, but her foot swings upward just a little to lightly tap his own. "And now I know a little something about Hal. A little somethings."
When the conversation was turned to her though, she frowns just a little. She had her reasons for not working, her existence couldn't be explained. Four hundred years of experience and plain living just wouldn't work out in the modern world. And she worked hard to keep her paper trail null.
"You're right. I'm not working for a reason. And you really shouldn't call a girl you just met weird. And creepy. All within the same hour."
Hal Jordan grins slightly, "Especially when they're so very determined to dodge questions. It's okay to tell me to butt out, it's fine. I also said you're pretty and smart, so that kind of balances out with the weird and creepy, I think. Although you may not place much value in pretty yourself."
"Most people probably put too much value in it, to be fair. Not that I'm complaining. Being good looking has made my life much easier. It's certain made my nights more entertaining," he says, kicking his legs somewhat. Then, after a moment's quiet, "Why is it that you called me? I'm not complaining. You just don't seem like someone who needs other people. You seem like someone who's kind of made a point of not needing other people."
Reese throws up her hands. "You got me." She doesn't comment however, she's always been told that she was pretty. But smart was a little bit rare since she usually kept her mouth shut and kept moving.
His question though? Causes her to sigh audibly. "I don't know why I called." She looks up in his direction, then shakes her head. "Yes I do. But then, it's silly."
Hal Jordan shrugs, "So what? So you look silly? I'm just some hotshot pilot you met at a party a couple of days ago. And I promise, I've done some incredibly stupid things in my time. I once spent an entire weekend on the roof of my house, because I told my Mom I was going camping, but my friend ended up ditching me, but I couldn't admit it because it would've blown a good cover so I just climbed up on top of the house and stole food out of the fridge when Mom went out.
Hal Jordan says, "See? Nothing you say's gonna be dumber than that."
Gosh, Hal was just a bit too much for her. There wasn't anyone else out there that she's met who could hold a candle to his rambling and story telling. He was amusing, and she appreciated that fact, though she still had a heavy heart as to why she did call.
"Yes it is." Her head tilts a little as she considers her words. "I.. am leaving soon. To Metropolis. I have to find a friend because I'm worried about her. I don't know where to look nor what she looks like. And before I left, I just.. wanted to sit with you a while I guess." Man, she was getting a wee bit too shy in her old age. "Just to talk to you some more."
Hal Jordan puts down his joking cap for a moment, mostly because he can see that Reese seems genuinely saddened. Perhaps to be leaving New York, perhaps because her friend is in trouble. That it could have anything to do with him doesn't even occur to him, because he's not nearly as egotistical as he pretends to be. Nobody thinks the egomaniac is a superhero. And Hal would be terrible at pretending to be, like, a mild mannered reporter with glasses. Like anyone would buy that anyway.
His voice does change slightly, when he speaks now, though, more like the man she met in the night and less like the man at the party. He always puts on the face, usually, when he meets people, even if he's met them before. It's just reflex. "I liked talking to you. It's been a while since I actually talked to anyone on New Year's Eve. The last few, I'd either been too drunk or too…" he knows he spent a few New Years horizontal mamboing with bimbos, which he hardly feels the need to tell her. Not that it would be bragging, he's not as proud of it as someone might think. "Why do you think your friend's in trouble?"
"..too busy having coital relations with random women that you met while intoxicated?" She finishes that one up for him. She was, after all, an adult. Despite how young she seemed to look.
Her head shakes as she lowers her gaze, her hand lifting to lightly pat at her chest. "Maybe I'm just worried. Or maybe it was the way that I left her. She's not from here. She's primative but not simple. And she's afraid of everything that's new in the world and I denied her just to try to stay in it."
She looked obviously bothered by this, her bottom lip trembling as she draws a hand up to wipe away her face as a child would, with her sleeve. She didn't even realize that it was warm, it didn't feel like summer but it felt a bit like spring. Spring time in winter.
Hal Jordan finds himself sliding off of his tombstone and stepping over, "Hey, hey there, hey now," he says. He's not good with emotion generally, but god dammit, he hates seeing a woman cry. Which is why he ends up hugging her, provided she doesn't smack him away, and kind of pulling her face against his chest. Is that where she's supposed to cry? It's hard to tell, especially when she's straddling a tombstone.
"I'm sure she's okay. Primitive…people did pretty well. None of us would be here if they weren't, would we? Mastadons and…stuff," he says. He's not really sure what she means by primitive, but it hardly seems like the time for twenty questions. "If you wouldn't mind the company, I'd be happy to help you look. I mean, I'm not a cop, but I'm not totally incompetent." he says.
She sniffs hard, quickly wiping away the tears so that they would not touch him. If they did? He would realize that the weirdness he felt around her? Would actually be realized. Yes. Her tears healed, her tears were a sense of euphoria that brought a clouded mind to a safe and sound spot, akin to a high without the horrible effects. She rarely, if ever, cries.
But he holds her all the same, and she buries herself into him, her fingers latching against his own jacket as she gives a shake of her head into his chest. She wasn't wiping snot or anything, she just shook her head.
"I can't ask you to do that. I just wanted to see you so I could kiss you." All muffled.
Hal Jordan feels shocked, almost, but is careful not to stiffen, lest she misread his reaction. He's just genuinely surprised. Put simply, Hal's not used to genuine people, and he's certainly not used to genuine people taking to him. He's largely lived a life of superficial moments, keeping his most deeply felt self secret. Doesn't he have to, when his power rises from his own wills and desires, and he must keep them guarded and secret?
"You weren't asking. I was offering. There's a difference," he says. He gently pulls her from his chest, though and looks down, "As for kissing," he says and leans down to press his mouth to hers. Firm, yes, and warm and masculine, the scent of his cologne no doubt caught, his shaving cream, the gel in his hair, and, underneath it all, him. He lets his tongue lightly play against hers as he cups her close to him and then sighs, finally letting her go.
"I'll happily kiss you as much as you'll permit. That's hardly a favor, unless it's a favor to me. I might've seemed kind of pathetic the other night," he says with a wry grin.
"There's no difference. People call others under false pretenses of a simple chat, and hold that chat just to carry a conversation which leads to the intended question." Yeah, wordy much? But.. once he kisses her, her arms draw up around him to tuck him in tight, her eyes shutting even though there was no need to do so and.. there it was.
Those butterflies. She didn't understand it at first. But they were there, and still remained once he parted from her.
She couldn't help but touch her lips again, giggling just a touch, her gaze turned away slightly as her cheeks blush a slight red. "Hnh? Why do you think you were pathetic?"
Hal Jordan smiles, rather enjoying the giggling. He suspected she didn't giggle much. While she'd always been nice around him, while she was obviously beautiful, she had the kind of beauty that could easily, he imagined turn stern and forbidding without much difficulty.
"I'm never sure if I'm pathetic. I felt a little pathetic, trailing after you. You didn't need my protection, I'm guessing. But it's nice to be the knight in shining. I maybe wanted to feel that way a bit."
Even though she looks up towards him, she seems to look past him. She actually wasn't sure where his head was at the moment. "What makes you think I didn't need protecting?" It was an honest question. Three thugs against a blind girl, she would have ended up.. wrong. It was a thought she didn't want to think about.
"You didn't feel that way in the Air Force?" She asks. She remembered him speaking about it, she just never really touched upon it.
Hal Jordan considers for a moment, "You. Your self possession. You didn't walk quickly, like you were afraid to be out in the middle of the night in one of the largest cities in the world. You hid when you heard trouble yes, but you didn't flee or scream. I didn't find you shaking or babbling," he says. He's seen all of those before, but how can you explain "I've rescued a lot of people and you don't react like a victim" in any other way than what he finally says, "I've rescued people before, and you don't strike me as a victim."
"The Air Force," he says, to the last and there's a moment there, a hitch in his voice, or at least a pause, as if he's formulating something, "That's what I went there for, maybe. And to fly. I always wanted to fly, like my father did." he admits. "I never counted on the killing being a part of it. Just…never crossed my mind. Until I had to do it,"
Speaking of things that didn't bear thinking about. But he'd start and he might as well finish. "I never learned to be okay with it. They say you do, that it's a shock at first, and that it's not so bad when you're in a plane, because you can't see their faces. But I knew. I'd see the reports and they'd list casualties. They'd list innocents, collateral damage. People that I killed and they're just a statistic. Acceptable loss of life. They even gave me a medal,' he says, his voice a bit bitter.
There were many things to consider as he spoke of her mannerisms. Would she actually tell him the absolute truth of her? Deep down, she wanted to, she also wanted to see him again and again, even if she leaves without him. Hearing him speak of her did draw a little smile, but fades once he begins to speak of his time and experiences in the air force.
She reaches up to lightly caress his cheek as he spoke, if anything, to just feel. As most would offer a hug and quiet words of encouragement, she does not. It would be like goading a child or possibly telling him he did what he had to do. She knew all too well people lived with the choices they made and the paths they walk. To comfort him even more, would be an insult.
Hal Jordan actually finds some comfort in the touch. That he's still worthy of being touched, after the things he'd done. It had taken him some time to accept. He'd had sex, of course, plenty of it. To Hal, sex had never been much separate from having a drink or watching a movie, another distraction when he didn't feel like thinking too hard. It came easily to him and never seemed that hard to get - a privilege, perhaps, but one he never appreciated. Love had never been a part of that equation, had never even occurred to him. He had been a soldier and then a Corpsman. The time in between, a couple of years, had been a haze of 'not-thinking', punctuated by few momentary bouts of regret.
He'd never talked about any of this, of course. Yet here he was, in a graveyard, with a blind woman he barely knew, with the taste of her still on his mouth, telling her things he'd kept to himself. "Tell me about your friend," he says.
He moves now and straddles the same tombstone as her, so they're knee to knee, balancing himself a little bit. Kind of easy to do when you can fly. And then, before she can answer, he kisses her again, quickly, a rushed thing, a thank you. Just for listening. Then he feels a little self-conscious at the impulse before drawing back again.
Hal was unsure of himself. That, alone, made him feel very odd.
She draws back after the touch, just so that he could move and settle upon the tombstone again in front of her. Knee to knee, she was preparing to speak of her friend until she was suprised with another kiss. One that makes her smile all too genuinely, but catches her breath in such a way she had to make sure that she was still /there/.
"Kida.." She murmurs softly, fingers touching her lips yet again as she smiles faintly. She wasn't sure how much she could tell him without scaring him away. For their first meeting was a weird one. Primitive was already pushing it.
"In a lot of ways, she's just like me." She starts off, her head tilted to recall. "I helped her when she was hurt, oh.. Hal, she was hurt badly." She frowns then, recalling that night. "She said I saved her life, and that she owed me a debt and that she would never leave my side. I.. didn't want her around me really. But she followed, sometimes from afar or up close when there was food to eat. She fed me, I fed her. I never once touched her to see what she looked like.."
Her hand lifts to brush her fingers along his cheek, for emphasis. "But. She was always there, until she wasn't. And I ignored the absense of her, and I'm so ashamed. I just want to tell her I'm sorry."
Hal Jordan likes the feel of her hand on his cheek. He's not used to that, caressing. He's had a lot of rampant, wild moments with women, doing things they talk about in magazine or demonstrate in movies you have to pay a fee to see on cable. But having his cheek stroked during an intimate conversation? No, no, of that, he has very little experience. It almost makes him feel like a teenager, on those first dates, looking across to try and figure out how anyone ever understands what girls are thinking.
"It isn't always easy to know what the right thing to do is, Reese. Every good thing I've done, I stumbled into, by luck or fate. I can certainly understand the urge to never leave your side. You kind of inspire that, and no, don't ask me to explain why or how, because I have no idea, but here I am anyway. And I'm going to help you find your friend. Don't bother saying no, because I'll do it anyway. I'm a stubborn bastard that way," he says.
He reaches out and strokes a hand over her knee, squeezing. "We'll find her." he says simply.
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