2008-02-04: Accidents Happen


Trina_icon.gif Noah_icon.gif

Summary: Not many people know the name Tony Macchiello. When they do, it's not a good thing.

Date It Happened: February 4, 2008

Accidents Happen

A Back Alley in Queens

She slips out the side door. It's easier that way.

With a coat pulled tightly about her at the collar, Trina makes her way outside into the cold, wintry night air. The brisk wind is a welcomed respite from the sweltering heat of the building she leaves behind, and she closes her eyes and takes a deep inhalation of the sharp, burning air. Underneath her army boots, gravel crunches. In her hand, a single key jingles against the ring that attaches it to a Mustang keychain. After that initial sucking of breath, the slender brunette hunches her shoulders and begins taking the long strides towards her red car parked in the shadowed alley. It's not until she's at the car's side and fumbling to get the key in the lock that she pauses to bat the black curls out of her eyes' way, despite the best efforts of that brutal wind that whips them about her face.

A black tie flaps about in the breeze as a long figure exits his own car, the black Nissan's door shutting firmly. With eyes protected by the glasses he wears, a man in a well dressed suit begins to move toward the red car on a intercept course.

"Katrina Mah. Might I have a word with you?"

The use of her full name is enough to startle the woman where she stands, fumbling with her keys. Thickly lined eyes shoot up to stare at the man in the suit, only to narrow suspiciously. "I don't know anyone by that name," she lies, nervously shifting the hand at her collar that holds the neckline of her coat closed all the way to the middle of her neck. "Sorry." Then back to unlocking her car. Her fumbling becomes more desperate. Less accurate. Why can't she get the darn key in the lock?

When her shaking hand drops the keychain entirely, there's a quiet curse as she stoops to pick it up and then stand to start trying again.

"Trina Mah, then… I apologize, I usually just use the full name as a formality," HRG concedes, glancing down before resting his eyes on the Trina's car lock. "I suggest you take a moment and talk to me. If you want to leave, then you'll lose a golden opportunity. It's fine though…" Blue eyes lift up in order to try and search out Trina's. "I'm sure you'll find another job that will take you.

Trina's free arm stops messing with the lock so that it can rest across her stomach, the young woman turning to face the stranger more fully. Her chin tucks and her head tilts to the side, the wary expression on her face entirely unmistakable. Her lips, painted a rich magenta, press into a tight little line for a moment. "Why do you think you know me? I've never seen you before in my life."

HRG's expression never changes, calm and confident. Like a used car dealer except a bit more ominous.

"Because I do. Let's not make it a complicated thing. Let's just say that I'm sorry about Tony. I'm sure it was an accident."

With that fact given, Noah takes a calculated step back, his hands firmly in front of him in a clasped motion.

"How…?" Trina's eyes open nearly impossibly wide at that, and her hands clench tightly at her jacket. She leans forward as she takes a few shuffling steps, closing the distance between her and the older man with a hint of panic. When next she speaks, it's in a hoarse whisper. "What do you want? Money? I don't have any."

"I'm not here to take anything from you. Not when you have so little to offer in return. What I am here to do is offer you a chance to make a new life. There are others like yourself. People with amazing gifts that struggle to get by from day to day. You could be someone in control of your destiny, not running from every misfortune that comes your way. You could be better." With that, Noah withdraws a simple card from his coat, listing his position as a Primatech Paper Sales Manager for Hartsdale, and then holds it out to her. "I work in a different building, but the office number and the cell number are still good." The name?

Noah Bennet.

"If you have any questions, I'll give you enough time for two. Sadly, I don't have as much time for these talks as I used to," Noah states before trying the vain effort of straightening his tie in this windy weather.

Two questions? But she has so many more than that! Trina's head goes back to that suspicious quirk, and then finally her hands stretches out to take the card so she might give it the full intensity of her distrusting glances. Alright. Here goes. She looks back to Noah, even as her weight shifts to rest mostly on one nearly leg. "And what happens if I tell you take this card and shove it?"

"You'll go back to a life where you barely scrape by," comes the swift and emotionless answer, Noah's tone seemingly uncaring if she actually decides to do just that. "I'm not interested in hiring those I have to convince or bully in, merely those smart enough to take an opportunity when they see it."

Trina's chin lifts as she goes back to cautiously observing the man in front of her, eyes narrowing into thin slits. For a good long time, she just watches him, seemingly content to freeze in the night air as those long black curls continue dancing about her shoulders. And then she finally finds her voice again as she starts nodding. "Alright," she allows at last with no small amount of resignation in her voice. "I'll think about it."

Then? That last question, asked with a quiver to her voice. He said she had two. She won't waste the count. "You… You ain't gonna tell no one about Tony, right?" In the past five days, she's never wanted Jack beside her more than now. But Jack ain't here, and he's not coming. Trina sniffs once.

"Everyone does things they regret," Noah replies with a weak smile. "And getting you arrested would be a waste of your time and mine." The suit sleeve is pulled back to reveal a very nice watch. "It looks like our time has drawn to an end. If you want to make a difference in this world and be taken care of, give me a call. If you want struggle to stay afloat… That's your choice." With that, Mr. Bennet moves toward his car, preparing to get in and drive off.

Trina's slender shoulders roll inside her coat as she keeps it tightly pulled against her, trying to roll the creepy and uneasy feeling that settles over her. She does not call out to Noah. There's no dramatic race to follow or cry for him to save her. She says nothing at all.

There's only that quiet defiance that prompts her to lift her chin a degree higher and fold her arms under her breasts as she watches him leave with a fierce bravado. After a moment, she lifts a hand to tuck dark hair behind her hair to help keep it from whipping in her face. And, once he's gone, she gets into her car to get gone, too.

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