2010-04-02: A (Not So) Modest Proposal



Date: April 2, 2010


Tracy, KeLyssa, and Nathan gather at the safehouse to plan. One is fed pills by a child, one learns of another's ability, and one proposes. It's just another day in the safehouse.

"A (Not So) Modest Proposal"

Tracy's Safehouse — New Jersey

After saying his farewells to Tori, a very headache-y-hungover Nathan flew back to the safehouse, even though he probably shouldn't have. Dressed in his blue jeans, aviator sunglasses, and black leather jacket, he heads right for the kitchen where he fishes through the cabinets for a bottle of aspirin. He holds it up to his face and squints as he tries to read the directions. Frowning, he realizes that the staring is only adding to his pounding headache. With a grumble he just shakes his head, "I'll take four. It won't kill me," he states to himself before he murmurs, "probably."

With a shrug he begins to spin the cap several times over — the child safety lock preventing him from actually getting into the bottle. After trying this for several seconds he begins hitting it against the counter top to open it up. This also doesn't work.

"You have to press down, Mister Petrelli…" comes the small voice of a blonde curly haired girl who can't be over ten as she stares at Nathan from the kitchen table. She hops off her chair and holds out her hand to take the bottle.

"Nathan," he corrects as he lifts a hand to his head — he's still in agony. With a reluctant sigh, he hands the bottle to the small child who immediately opens it and then glances at the back of the bottle, "It says to only take two at a time…"

"I'll be fine," he groans as he takes three capsules and downs them with a single gulp.

In the living room, close enough to hear the conversation, but not close enough to really care at all about what's going on, KeLyssa sits on the couch in her newly acquired outfit, complete with heel-boots, white skirt, and black long-sleeved shirt, her boot covered feet resting up on the coffee table in front of the couch as she leans back and relaxes. In her arms she holds another new acquisition: a glittery pink, heart-shaped electric guitar that she quietly strums as she teaches herself the cords. Once she thinks she has the cords down, she will actually buy an amp so she can hear what she's playing.

Tracy, emerging from upstairs, gives KeLyssa and her glittery instrument a bizarre look before she turns to appear in the doorway of the kitchen, where she stands with folded arms and raised brow. "Rough night?" Unlike Nathan, she is the picture of wakefulness and precision, between her straight, brushed hair, neat green V-neck sweater with a delicate gold necklace, and dark jeans. She's refused to look like a fugitive. While she's curious, the judgment in her tone is pretty lacking so far. "…You look like you could use some coffee."

"I think hims got a headache," the small blonde child observes before closing the pill bottle for Nathan, yup, she's a caregiver by nature. She shrugs before she turns to the man, "I hope you feel better Mister Petrelli!" that said, she skips away to the backyard to go play tag or some other excellent game.

Nathan squints as she hops away and then groans at Tracy with a nod. "Coffee would be good." He smiles weakly, but his eyes are still hidden behind the dark aviator glasses as they make him feel less ill. "You could say that," he finally answers Tracy with a heavy sigh, his hand still held to his forehead. "Spent the night on a friend's couch; didn't think it was smart to fly home…" he smirks again but only for an instant — he really is in pain.

Standing and carrying the guitar by the neck, KeLyssa walks to the door of the kitchen as well, leaning against the frame. "Been drunk 'gain, have we Petrelli?" She shakes her head and tsks. "Always seemed like ya had a couples bottles o' somethin' or other hidden away 'round at the office for them rainy days. I wonder ifin they're still there…" She shrugs. "Was she at least worth it?" She assumes that he spent the night with woman anyway. "Or was it a he? People've been known ta swing the other way after bein' married. I heard o' it happenin'." By the sounds of it, wherever Nathan was, she doesn't quite believe that he just 'spent the night on a friend's couch'.

"We don't exactly have high grade espresso around here, I'm sorry to say," Tracy says with a faintly light tone as she drifts into the kitchen, arms unfolding as she approaches the counter, cupboards and simple coffee maker between. KeLyssa's entrance and subsequent … talking … earns a look over her shoulder, mouth agape, as if she's not sure she ought to be amused or… aghast. "A-ahhh…" Tracy just goes back to preparing coffee, after which she turns around and fixes Nathan with an intent look and a bit of a smile, head tilting to one side in wonder. "Did you say… fly?"

"Again?" Nathan's eyebrow quirks as he tries to remember the last time he was sincerely drunk. "I don't think you've ever seen me… drunk… KeLyssa." He groans as he manages to sit at the kitchen table, resting an elbow on it and his forehead on his hand — successfully propping it up. "And I didn't… I mean… it wasn't… I just really like my liquor… wait. Why am I explaining this to you?" This is the most awkward sex he didn't have, mostly because of KeLyssa's questioning. "And I like women. I'm attracted to women. Just for the record."

He turns to Tracy, however, and his smirk broadens into a bit of a grin. "Oh yeah. I can fly…" he chuckles moderately awkwardly, but the chuckle turns into another groan. "I drank raw eggs…" which didn't stay in his stomach, "I don't know what else to try…"

KeLyssa snorts. "Don' mean I ain't never suspected ya of gettin' drunk. M'blonde, I ain't stupid. Alcohol plus imbibin' equals bein' tipsy." She smiles sweetly and offers puppy dog eyes. "Ya ain't gonna say I ain't suspected fer naught, are ya?" She holds that for a moment before laughing. "Ya stayed at someone's place, who I'm guessin' was a woman, bu' correct me ifin I'm wrong. Jus'…ya wouldn't be defending yerself as much I don' think ifin it wasn't…but I ain't no psychoanalyst. So…yer at this place, ya drink plenty, an' ya ain't gettin' none? Booooooy, ya got a sad case o' the blues, methinks." She tilts her head. "Ya kin fly? Well, good on ya fer not drinkin' an' flyin'." She says with a firm nod of the head. "Don'tcha know, raw eggs don' help with hangovers none? Whatcha wanna do is eat some gator gumbo. It's the best thing fer curin' ya o' havin' a hangover."

So he can fly. This long overdue news is met with a conceding lift of Tracy's dark blonde eyebrows, a smile, and a disbelieving-in-spite-of-believing shake of her head. She is not knew to the existence of flying men, but it's still strange to her; no ability will, likely, ever seem normal. This expression is stuck on her face as she finds herself staring at KeLyssa and listening to the words upon words that seem to pour endlessly from the Southerner's mouth. She's not about to correct her on a certain point.

Instead, she pours the coffee and saunters her way to the table. "Barring… that," Tracy says with a vaguely disgusted, disparaging glance in KeLyssa's direction for the young woman's suggestion of …gumbo … and plants a white mug of nearly black coffee in front of Nathan. "I prefer strong coffee and willpower. You really should be keeping your head clear Nathan."

"Uh. I haven't been hungover since… the summer. August." Or least, not this hungover since the summer. Although he vaguely remembers doing pot in September which causes his forehead to crease as he runs through his memories. He makes no reference to his friend's gender. It's just not worth it, and he already has a headache.

"Strong coffee might help," Nathan says in a husky groan. "Ehn. Clear head after my week?" his eyebrows furrow tightly. "Sometimes forgetting for awhile is a good thing. Yesterday was one of those times." He exhales his breath in a husky groan-sigh.

KeLyssa shakes her head. "You keep on tellin' us all that, Petrelli, an' I'll keep thinkin' what I'm thinkin'. How 'bout we keep it at that?" Disbelieving perhaps? "I could go out an' get us ingredients fer gumbo right now. I think I kin pro'ly 'member how ta make it. Might not be able ta make gator gumbo, 'cause gator meat's hard ta come by up 'round here, but chicken is a pretty good substitute fer gator meat when it ain't findable."

"You can start forgetting after this is all over," Tracy points out curtly as she returns to the counter to fix coffee of her own. Though she has zero input on KeLyssa's comments, gator-related or … otherwise, she does say as she whisks past, "You can help yourself to the coffee." She sits down in the seat around the table's corner from Nathan, wrapping her hands about her cup. Inside is coffee that looks slightly less toxic than the Senator's.

"Thanks Tracy," Nathan manages as he finally brings the coffee to his lips. "My mother and I had it out. And I have a feeling I haven't heard the end of it." He begins to massage his temples, issuing KeLyssa a puzzled look before just sipping his coffee again. "I'll stick to the coffee," he finally says.

KeLyssa shrugs. "Fine. Ya'll want yer coffee, ya'll kin stick to yer coffee. Far be it from me ta suggest a tried, tested an' true method o' hango'er removal." She says with a firm nod, making her way into the kitchen to pour coffee for herself. Once coffee is retrieved, she makes her own way to the table, sitting down and leaning the guitar against the side of the table.

Tracy is not entirely unsympathetic to Nathan's troubles, but unaware of just who Nathan's mother is, or what they disagreed about, her concerned study of him is brief. Without meaning to, her gaze turns rather suspect and thoughful. To distract, she sips her coffee, and looks around the table, which seems unnaturally quiet in the time in which KeLyssa isn't speaking. "We should track down Congressman Dawson this weekend while he's unlikely to have a lot've staff hanging around," she brings up.

An eyebrow is arched at KeLyssa. She'd become so different since before when she was his crazy assistant who made ice statuettes that she kept in her freezer. Wrinkling his nose, Nathan just sips at his coffee, choosing not to comment on this. Finally the guitar registers, "Learning to play?" And then he nods at Tracy's comment, "It's overdue, really. And it would be good to share what we know with others who could make a difference." He purses his lips, "And discuss our plans." His coffee is now very interesting.

"Do you think he'll go for it?" Nathan asks quietly, his eyebrows still furrowed. Biting his lip he finally says, "Even if he doesn't we might be able to get Helen to schedule something. She was on my staff last time and while she doesn't know what's going on…"

KeLyssa tilts her head in curiosity as she takes a sip of coffee. "Oh ho, what's this li'l thing I'm hearin' from ya'll? Got plans, have we? Plans ta bring down the government, maybe? Shut down all o' 'em operations tha' 'cause people like us troubles, perhaps? Well ifin it is, I want in ta it. I kin 'elp jus' as much as the next person kin. An' I ain't gonna take no fer no answer. The only acceptable answer here is 'yes'."

"Yes," Tracy answers — but it's to KeLyssa, not Nathan. "I told you, this's all gonna end." To the Senator, she shakes her head dismissively with a shifting of blonde hair midway through lifting her cup of coffee. "It doesn't matter if he goes for it or not, the point is to get him to roll out the carpet for the press conference. He doesn't have to agree, he doesn't have to know everything."

He nods slightly to KeLyssa. "We want to do what we can." And hope it's not too late. "This world needs to be the kind of place where children," Nathan glances absently towards the back door, "can grow up without being taken into government custody and where people aren't trafficked as human weapons." Now that's something he never thought he'd have to deal with before all of this. "We're holding a press conference and blowing the whistle on the government — holding them responsible for dealing weapons, along with Lane industries, to terrorists. That alone should get the attention of the American people. Don't even have to mention abilities…"

"You're right. We just need him to arrange it, but I'm not sure he will unless he knows what's going on. He is smart…"

KeLyssa nods a little. "Yeah, well…I don't know about no press conferences 'bout dealin' weapons ta terrorists. Are ya sure ya don' wanna go in the back door an' show 'em whose boss? That's what I wanna do. Kick 'em where it hurts, and so they don't know WHAT happened." She nods to Tracy. "Good. I wanna help." Leaning back in her chair, sipping her coffee, she look from Tracy to Nathan. Eyeing the only man in the room at present, she says, "Hey…Petrelli. Here's somethin' that's been on my mind, we people with abilities need ta stick t'gether somethin' awful. So I was thinkin', wanna get married It'd make life easier on us in the long run, m'sure."

Tracy has many an answer on the tip of her tongue for both of them, but KeLyssa is miles faster and has many more words. She's fully prepared to cut the young woman off right after this sip of coffee, but finds herself nearly choking on it instead. Calmly clearing her throat with a somewhat ladylike hhm-mmm, she presses her lips together, sets the cup on the table, and comments, "I don't… see how that would be productive…"

Unlike Tracy, Nathan was mid coffee at the proposal, promptly spitting it out (mostly back into the cup). "PFFFFFT!" The bit about physically damaging the people in charge is ignored for the marriage proposal. "Uh…" Nathan blinks behind his sunglasses, rendered speechless by the randomness that is the first marriage proposal he's ever received. "Uh…" his mouth gapes open as he glances at Tracy and then back to KeLyssa as if trying to ascertain whether he's being punked. His brow wrinkles as he tries to figure out the date after which he realizes it's April second, not the first, although, he's still not entirely sure this is some kind of belated prank.

"Uh… thaaaaaanks," Nathan finally manages to form full words. "I… think. You. Are. A great young lady, buuuuuuuut I have a daughter around your age. Annnnnnnnd — " he sideglances Tracy as if looking for help, " — I… agree with Tracy…" he winces a little. "Call me old fashioned, but I still think love and actually wanting to wed are the best reasons to marry…." Beat. "AND …" Other things.

KeLyssa shrugs nonchalantly. "Stuff don' always gotta be about productivity. It's also 'bout practicality." Is said as she takes a long sip of her coffee. She gives Nathan a look. If she could shoot ice shards out of her eyes instead of her hands, she might be doing that now. "Ya didn't need ta gimme no long drawn out answer none at all." She responds. "Simple 'no' woulda done it fer me." Is the simple response. Looking to Tracy she says, "How 'bout you? Wanna get married?"

After giving KeLyssa a strange look for that icy glare toward Nathan, studying her up-and-down trying to figure out what her deal is, Tracy's eyes widen. Her look to KeLyssa immediately turns incredulous, her brow furrowing. She holds up one hand — enough! — and addresses the both of them. "No one is getting married."

She slides a hard-to-read glance at Nathan and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before gesturing yet again. "Getting… back… on track," she says, eager to not be talking about marriage. She talks fast, too, quite possibly in the hopes of talking faster than KeLyssa. "If Dawson is smart, then, we'll just have to be smarter." It's simple to Tracy, tactics which come easily as common sense. "I know he's supposed to be our ally but that doesn't mean we can't sugar our plan a bit for him. I don't know if Helen's a good idea — not on her own. She's your publicist. We don't want your name attached to this thing too soon and have it get too much attention before it's show time."

And breathe. Tracy eyes KeLyssa.

Gaping at KeLyssa, Nathan has no idea what to say or do. He glances from KeLyssa to Tracy and then back again, "I don't think that's legal yet in the State of New York." One day soon, maybe. He bites his bottom lip and nods firmly at Tracy's words regarding marriage.

"Right. George doesn't need to know everything, I'm just not certain how much to tell him. Pete didn't even know exactly what we have in mind and shot it down immediately along with another cohort of ours," Claire, "but I still think it's the right thing. There's little else to be done now. People just need to know what's going on." He presses his lips together. "And I'm fine with whatever, really. I've finished the speech, it says nothing about abilities, but I think it'll get the attention we need and the President will know what it's actually about. He's not completely in the dark and he knows what I was working on last. Hopefully he's not behind the weapons though —" Nathan cringes. That would be the worst thing.

KeLyssa shakes her head, sighing. "Well, fuck. What'm I gonna do with the ring now? I bought it all nice like, and now it ain't gonna be used!" With a cluck of her tongue, she says, "Well ain't that jus' an itsy bitsy shame, that?" She rolls her head. "Well, I'll be supposin' I'll go off an' pawn it." Finishing her coffee in a big gulp, she looks between Nathan and Tracy. "Ifin ya'll need me, well, I dunno where I'll be." She stands puts her cup in the sink, and takes her guitar with her to…wherever she's going.


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