2007-07-10: COVERED IN BEEEEEEES

Starring:

Rudyard_icon.gif Daphne_icon.gif

Summary: Daphne encounters Rudyard in a park. A squirrel dies, a cat runs away, and THERE ARE BEES EVERYWHERE.

Date It Happened: 10 JULY 2007

COVERED IN BEEEEEEES


Central Park, NYC

It's late afternoon, the park is still crowded, and someone seems to be attracting just a little more attention than he likes. Wearing a beekeepers suit, mainly for show and to keep up the front, one Rudyard Thorpe is carefully approaching a beehive in Central Park. A nice colony has taken up far too closely to a picnic area.. and well.. he's taken it upon himself to relocate the insects. He could ask them nicely to bugger off, but they've gotten quite attached to the hive. So. Moving day it is. He's got all of the necessary equipment with him for moving the hive. He knows a nice quiet spot they might fancy. He's already told them this much.

—-

The one thing Daphne can't hear with any regularity are insects. Almost everything else has a voice in her head, at least, but she hasn't tuned into the specific 'language' that the (usually small) creatures have, which means the only thing she catches from them now and then are tiny snippets of words that barely mean anything at all. Still, someone attempting to locate a beehive does get her attention, because that's somewhat of a pandora's box when it comes to all the trouble it could cause. If the bees get pissed off, people could be hurt. So, she approaches the location cautiously. Maybe those Africanized 'killer' bees are up this high this summer? Who knows. "Hey," she says, the accent evident in her voice even from that one word. "Look, I know what you're tryin' to do, but night might be a better time." She'll still offer a smile, though. "Those things don't like people."

—-

"Hmm… depends upon the person," is heard in a confident, clipped and quite proper British accent. (And it's quite rare that he's confident in much of anything.) Rudyard has no trouble at all locating the hive, and approaches it with caution. Even if he's got a way with insects. "Nighttime usually is best, yes, however, I have an exhibit to prepare and now is my spare time." And he's an expert. "Please keep back miss. They are quite calm at the moment, but easily agitated," he politely instructs as he moves in to pick up the hive. A swarming colony within.. average bee.. not the killer kind, but still.. being stung is not so pleasant.

—-

"Trust me, I'd probably be one of the better people to be handling something like that," she says dryly, not elaborating, because no one would believe her anyway. And she does listen in for a moment, but all that meets her senses is the buzzing of insect wings. Daphne does keep her distance, at least for now. There's no sense it getting close to what she senses is an already dangerous situation. However, there's a young cat that's sort of half-heartedly drawing close to the area where Rudyard is fishing for bees, and while it's well-hidden in the bushes, Daphne can hear it. She doesn't really consider the fact that it could be getting too close for comfort. "Well, just…" She bites her lip, takes a step back, shoos away a child that's getting too close. "You're onna those people who gets something in his head and won't give up 'til it's done, aren't you?" she calls over her shoulder.

—-

Rudyard doesn't know the cat is there. He can't communicate with it, and he's too focused on his task at hand. Hive in gloved hands, he smiles at the swarming insects and does his best to keep them calm for the quick transport to the box he brought with him. "Perhaps I am, or perhaps I would just like to see this hive transported to a quieter spot. With more flowers nearby." Yes. Bright flowers with tasty nectar. Hear that bees? Most of them hear this, and stay content as their hive is handled and the man walks towards the container.. Although some? They aren't as content. (In fact, they are downright annoyed at the disruption, the cat and the woman, and are determined to show their displeasure.)

—-

Still oblivious to the voices of the bees, Daphne's mind is more focused on the little voice in its periphery that's curiously watching tiny moving objects coasting through the air! She hears this from cats /a lot,/ though, and it doesn't register that the kitten is actually looking at the buzzing hive, creeping closer. And… she'll go on completely not realising there's any danger until the little cat makes a leap for one of the bees. Its collar gets stuck on a branch, too, which means when it lands, its front feet are dangling just inches from the grass, which makes it impossible to get away.

—-

And the bees? TARGET. Choices, oh things to choose from! The poor cat.. and poor Daphne. They're upset. Those are easier targets.. and well.. Daphne may not be in tune with them, but Rudyard is. The hive is set in the box and closed when.. "Oh bollocks." He's missed a few and they're pissed.. and they are /not/ listening to the man's silent request to pls2bnotstinging people and cats. "Miss, duck, remain calm," he directs at Daphne as he looks her way, staring hard in focus. So they're just bees.. but he'd very much like for none of them to be swatted to death or giving into their nature at this moment.

—-

Remain calm? But the kitty—!

<BEES BEES BEES BEES BEES BEES BEES BEES…>

It seems to have realised that the things that are flying around are those things that have stingers and hurt, or… Well, it's possibly also gotten that impression from Daphne. In any case, the girl suddenly looks absolutely horrified, her eyes attempt to meet Bee-Guy's for just a moment, before she does the stupidest thing she could have possibly decided to do. Dives into the branches full of one panicked cat and about a bajillion bees.

—-

And … stingies away!

A muttered (and proper!) sounding curse is uttered as Rudyard roots through a bag he packed.. just for this sort of emergency. "I hope she's not allergic," he mutters to himself. Bees? Happy to be stinging. Still not listening. LAA LAA LAAAH. He takes off the protective helmet, gloves and suit.. and as he does so.. the bees that are happily stinging away? Sadly.. they drop to the ground. Unmoving. Rudyard looks pained about this as he approaches Mrs Doolittle and cat, bag o'supplies in hand. Under the beekeeper outfit, he's wearing a nice suit.. a nametag clipped to his jacket, proclaiming him to be a curator at the American Museum of Natural History.

—-

When she reaches the kitten, she's able to grab it, since there's no way it can run, though this effectively snaps the branch so that Daphne's at least able to free it. Thusly wrapped around the little hairball, she tries to crawl away from the hive while preventing her little charge from being COVERED IN BEES. At the same time, she feels the pain of a whole lot of little stingers digging into her skin. Unable to keep a specific count, she can only estimate that it's somewhere around…

Oh, a /BILLION./

She, too, swears, though it's not proper in the /least./ The Australian accent becomes a whole lot more pronounced, since she's not even attempting to cover it up. And when she's just about to whether another volley of bee wrath, she can see them dropping dead around her. Blue eyes open, and she lets out a breath she'd been holding. "Oh, /god./ What." There's a sylleable of pain before she looks up. She's gona be feeling this in a few minutes, she's sure. Expecting to see smoke, or spray or something, all she sees is the Bee Guy, and has to add— "What the /hell/ jus happened?"

—-

"I do believe you have been stung, miss. Quite a number of times," Rudyard replies matter of factly as he approaches. He's not pleased with himself, but they weren't listening.. and let this never happen again. "It appears that you are not allergic, nor the cat, seeing as neither of you have swelled to twice your size." He opens the first aid kit, ready to assist with the removal of stingers and treatment of the stung areas. "Where were you stung?," he inquires as he pulls out a packaged sterile wipe, and one of those dummy plastic credit cards you get in obnoxious junk mail applications.

—-

Her skin feels like it's on fire. Rudyard's observation is met with a level stare, gritted teeth and narrowed eyes spelling out the fact that she's quite aware she's been stung. The cat, though, seems mostly unharmed… Maybe it has one or two stings, but otherwise seems shaken, and surprisingly calm for the situation. She doesn't have enough stings in her to endanger her health, but there are enough that she's not going to feel so well in just a few minutes. ThMoving from her hands and knees to a sitting position, Daphne realises with a wince that she was stung in a place that makes sitting /very difficult./ Wonderful. "Bees don't just die." Looking down at the ground, she brushes a handful of them aside. "What'd you do, poison the whole hive?"

—-

"Hmmm," is Rudyard's non-commital response.. which isn't much of one. "Alright, where have you been stung." Present arms, or leg, whichever got stung before he invades personal space. Which he might do. Proper, British, yes, but he lacks tact most of the time. "The stingers must be removed before the area can be cleaned, as well as an application of hydrocortisone cream." As for the bees… "Female honeybees die after stinging a person." Nevermind the fact they weren't all female, or docile honeybees.

—-

She could take care of herself! Really. "Look, I don't even /know/ you,/" she says, feeling the need to establish some sort of barrier here. She's not taking off her shirt in the middle of the park, for example. She'll just treat those at HOME. Of course, they're alrady starting to feel like they're a lot more painful than they should be… Daphne feels as though the sun is a whole lot warmer than it's supposed to feel. "I know, I know. I work with animals," she states, setting the cat on the ground. God, /ouch./

A simple request is offered to the kitten - <Go home.> Since it has a collar, it must have a place to stay somewhere, and so it runs off, hopefully in search of it. "So. So, you work with bees." She pauses. "I don't feel so great."

—-

"Of course not. You've been injected with venom, essentially. On a small scale. Nothing in comparison with the brown recluse, yet, it remains rather unpleasant." Rudyard remains resolute even as his assistance is waved off. "Come now miss, don't be stubborn. You work with animals, how smashing for you. That being the case, you know prompt treatment of stings, bites and scrapes are necessary. The bush over there is quite concealing, take this, gently scrape the stingers out of your skin." He offers the fake plastic credit card to the young woman. "Sometimes I am known to work with bees, yes. Doctor Rudyard Thorpe, I am an entomologist. Now, would you tend to the stingers before I do?" Which would cause a scene.

—-

Something makes her want to kick him, but she's too pumped up with adrenaline at the moment to do anything like that. Actually, she kind of feels cold now, and it's not pleasant at all. "Yeah. Yeah. I don't think I like you very much," she mutters, accepting the card, working on taking the small little stingers out where they've become embedded. Anyone who works outside has at least been stung once, and Daphne's no exception, but never this many times all at once. "Rudyard? Like… Kipling?" she asks weakly. Discarding one of the stings among the insects littering the ground, she works on another. "I just want to know that I'm not going to need to go spend the night in the hospital or something."

—-

"That's quite alright. I am not particularly a people person," Rudyard replies quite dryly. He's not offended at all. "No. Rudyard as in my father and his father before him. As for a visit to the hospital.. It does not seem to be necessary as you are not displaying signs of an allergic reaction or anaphylactic shock." Waiting for Daphne to finish removing stingers, he's ready to hand over the antiseptic wipes. "You should be quite alright. A little sore perhaps, a bit of itching. Other than that, all should be well."

—-

"Kipling," she says again with a chuckle. She's sure he's heard it before. After all, one of the best known writers /ever/ had the name Rudyard. Wait, yeah, there was that part of introductions where she was supposed to give her own name. "Daphne Rousseau." She holds out the hand that hasn't been stung, which happens to be the left. Honestly, she knows something weird happened to the bees, but it doesn't cross her mind that this guy could be responsible. After all, he says he's an endocrinologist. Or. You know, /something./ So he knows all about bugs, and maybe sometimes they just up and die.

Except she knows this isn't the case. "Yeah, this'll be great," she goes on sarcastically, continuing to pull stings out of herself. "Look, the cat needed help. She was scared. I couldn't just sit there and let her take a full does of bee venom." She starts to get up, and there's a little dizzyness, but she's sure she can make it home.

—-

Rudyard has heard it before, and there are no hard feelings. He has great respect for the author and his works. When Daphne holds out her hand to shake, he stares a moment before shaking it return. "A pleasure Miss Rousseau." The packets with antiseptic wipes are held out for Daphne to take next. "Since I have no idea how long it will take you to get home so that you can properly wash.. These shall do. Hmm. Of course not. How admirable of you. I'm sure the cat appreciates the gesture." There's just a touch of sarcasm to his dry tone. As far as he's concerned.. he's the only freak in the world that can converse with what's not human. "Are you feeling alright? No dizziness?"

—-

God, this guy is /so proper/ it's almost more painful than the bee stings. And she stares at him for what seems to her like a normal span of time, but what might seem to anyone else like way too long. Maybe her pupils are just a bit dialated. It might be too much. After all, it's sunny outside, so…

"Oh." She looks down at the towels and takes them, going to put them into a pocket and completely missing. Then she misses the fact that the packets are now on the grass instead of where she meant to put them. Daphne's sure that if she just gets home and sleeps it off, she'll be okay, and she'll get up and go to work tomorrow, and be a little sore, but other than that…

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just have to get to my car. M'gonna go home and take a nap or something."

—-

Rudyard scowls then moves in, quite forceful in nature.. but not painfully so. "I insist that you have a seat here on the grass and permit me to attend to your condition." His hands reach to grip Daphne by the shoulders to try and 'guide' her to having a seat there in the soft grass. "How many times were you stung? One or two shouldn't be an issue, unless you're allergic.. and if you were I should be dialing 911 about now and phoning your relations. Now, have a seat and I shall see how bad it is."

—-

"What— No, it's okay." Daphne does give him an odd look, because she's still pretty damn certain that she'll be fine. Seriously, how much venom could be in ten stings? Twelve? "I 'unno? I kinda hurt all over." She could estimate, but she has no way of sensing the number of stings, or counting them without starting to take off some clothes.

"…Less than twenty?" …Ball park.

She could tell this guy a million facts about cats. Maybe the same amount on birds. Somewhat less on reptiles. /Zero/ on bees, except she knows they make honey. "I'm not allergic, I've been stung before." When the ground kind of shifts in her perception, though, she says, "I think I'll sit for awhile." And she does, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

—-

"Codswallop. You'll not be going anywhere, unless it's to the emergency room," Rudyard insists quite firmly. "Now. Where were you stung the most?" Persistent, why yes. Better tell him, before he really invades some privacy. He sheds his suit jacket, balling it up then says in a no nonsense tone, "Lay down, put this under your neck. Treatment, some cool water, and you are to rest." And he will not tolerate any arguing on the matter.

—-

And from the VEIL OF PAIN, Daphne /cracks up./ "Codswallop!?" she says, looking up at him with this… /purely incredulous/ expression. Blue eyes stand out against a red face, which isn't puffy (thankfully) but still doesn't look so great. But… He might be right. She's starting to feel less and less like she's going to be okay as time goes on. Where was she stung the most? It seems pretty even to her, but if she had to make a guess… "My back? You still want me to lay down?" She reaches under her hair to rub her neck, too, and winces. After all, besides her arms, her neck and back were the two places that were unprotected. "I should call Laurel." Pause. "She's my best friend. I'm not goin' to the emergency room, mate."

—-

Rudyard frowns as clearly, Daphne is making fun of him. "Have you a problem with that, /Sheila/?" Yes, he's poking fun at the Aussie. "Have it your way," he states flatly as he waits no longer. That invasion of personal space takes place and into that invisible bubble he goes. On the search for stingers still in the skin. "Patience," he instructs, while.. to be blunt about it, he attempts to de-shirt Daphne. Only in a totally non-perverted way. Let him help, dammit. "Stay upright until I make sure there a no stings left in your skin. No sense in letting them linger or bury deeper."

—-

God, she hopes no one's watching. And she'll fight Kipling until she decides that it's in her best interest to let him get the stings out, because it feels like she's going to throw up, and— "wha?" Is the world spinning? She thinks it might be. "No. No, I'm not, there was this girl who— did a thing— " Helpful, yeah, but that's about all she can manage with the embarrassment of having no shirt on and also feeling somewhat muddled in the head, which she's not really happy about, either. And then she adds, "I wish everyone would just shut /up/ for a minute!" There are animals in her head, and they're giving her a headache.

—-

"Yes, yes, a girl who did a thing.." Rudyard sounds like he's humoring Daphne as he works on locating stings and removing them. "Do sit still Miss Rousseau, you are only making this more difficult. Now where did you drop the ruddy.. oh there they are." Packets in hand, he frowns at Daphne, "Would you like to remove the rest yourself, if there are any others, or shall I assist further.. and what the devil are you on about?" Everyone? It's just him.. and yeah.. curious onlookers, but that's par for the course. He sits up on his knees and peers past the brush and states quite loudly, "Bugger off, the lot of you! Clear off!"

—-

At least she's not feeling any worse, now. It seems like she's hit a plateau in that regard, but she's not really feeling great, either. Reaching to her shoulder, feeling another sting, she scratches it out as best she can, working her way down her arm. There are a couple she's going to need to get in a restroom or something, she's sure, because she'll allow herself to be de-shirted, but she's keeping /everything else on,/ thanks. "Everyone." She rubs her forehead. She can hear voices, she's sure of it. And looking up, she can see that there are people /around,/ but not close enough to be this loud. There must be more behind her, talking about how pale she is! Except that's one of the squirrels in the tree above her. So after Kipling shouts at people to 'bugger off,' she adds, "And I'm /not pale!/"

—-

"Of course you're pale. Too long in a prison on that island you call a continent I suppose." Ahaha. What a comedian, Rudyard is. Pulling his first aid kit closer, he proceeds with disinfecting the visible stung areas. Nice, blotchy and red, they are. "And.. for the record. No one called you pale. I think you just might be having a bad reaction. I shall call for an ambulance." He's not reaching for his phone yet however, he's going for the hydrocortisone cream to start applying that. It's gonna help and Daphne's gonna need it oh so very soon.

—-

She laughs. Again. "No, I'm not hearing things. I just don't feel really good r— " Sigh. "I'm not from Australia. I…" uh. "Got hit on the head. You can look it up." Because getting hit on the head really can do this to a person, and Daphne can't really tell the guy that someone changed her accent after taking away her ability to read and write. No one would believe that. "I've lived in North America all m'life."

She tries to look over her shoulder, too, to see who's calling her pale. Also someone's talking about nuts, which doesn't seem really appropriate when there are kids around. Wait a second.

"It's the squirrel," she says. She didn't say that out loud. Honest.

—-

"Mmmhmm," Rudyard utters in a tone that suggests he's humoring Daphne still. "Ah. One of those quirky phenomenon I suppose? How amusing. Ashamed of your homeland, tsk." Oh he's familiar with such a thing happening.. he just doesn't believe her. "I suppose you expect me to believe you talk to squirrels." He saw that on a cartoon once. Hydrocortisone cream applied, he pulls out his cellphone. "Do put your shirt back on, I'm calling a doctor. You require more help than what I can provide."

—-

Y'know how frustrating it is to be telling the truth, and have someone /not believe a word you say?/ "I was /stung,/ I'm not retarded," she states, clearly balancing that line between annoyed and outright angry. She's not from another country, and — and—! Looking at Rudyard, Daphne frowns. What'd he just say? She didn't say that out loud! "No, of course I can't!" she says, while simultaniously requesting that said squirrel /throw something at him/ in order to shut him up. But! The squirrel is distracted, and doesn't comply, even a little. Daphne will /gladly/ put her shirt on, around which she says, "I'm not going to the sodding hospital. I swear I'll kick you if you call."

—-

"Could have surprised me," Rudyard retorts in a dry manner. His lips do however twitch in amusement behind that scruff of facial hair he lets grow. "Mmhmm. Kick me, and we shall see how fast you get stung again." This time, it might be wasps. He's sure he could call some from nearby to lend a hand. He doesn't even avert his eyes as Daphne puts her shirt back on. Not that he's staring in perverse amusement, well, he is amused, just not that way. "Now. Stay seated a little longer. Who is your friend, shall I call her for you?" The first aid kit is closed up and he rises. Taking it back to where his things are, he produces a bottle of water, which he takes to the !Australian.

—-

DAMMIT, SQUIRREL. Squirrels! Squirrels. She's too muddled at the moment to just single out one, and there are several in the area, which seem to stop what they're doing in order to /run toward her./ Oh, god, that's not what she wanted to do! <Wait. Wait!> she says, but it's a little too late for 'wait.'

Because Rudyard will doubtlessly find one attempting to crawl up his pantleg in order to bite him. And another couple in the tree actually /will/ start throwing things. Nuts, berries, seeds, whatever they happen to have available.

—-

Rudyard was being nice, in holding out a bottle of water for Daphne.. Until that damnable rodent crawls up his pantsleg and bites through the fabric, "Gordon Bennett!" The bottle is then thrown at the little bastard. Despite the close proximity, the bottle connects more with his own leg. Bugger. It doesn't help that now more little squirrels are /throwing/ things. "What the devil is going on here!?" Sure squirrels are known to hurl acorns at innocent bystanders, but this is ridiculous. Soon enough, there's a buzz in the air.. not from bees zooming.. but wasps.. going straight for the squirrels. Yowch.

—-

<Wait. No, s-stop,> she stays to the squirrels, which, given their own sense of self-preservation and the rpidly approaching buzz of insects, they seem to have no qualms about complying. Except for the one that has its teeth sunk into Rudyard's leg, and seems to be some sort of amazing acrobatic genius as it winds around said appendage in order to avoid being hit with the bottle. It /fails./ With a squeal, this squirrel, too, is driven the hell away, running off to join its buddies somewhere else that isn't so wasp infested.

There's still a rodent up in the tree, though, and unfortunately, though it's stopped throwing things, it's not running away. It has to guard the rest of its stash! Pretty soon, it's absolutely /covered in wasps,/ and while there are audible screams of agony from the poor thing, what she really hears are the non-vocal feelings of terror, the pain— And Daphne stares at where the squirrel is. Even if she can't speak to insects, she has to try. <Leave it alone!>

—-

"Little bastard, you best be running!" Rudyard shouts after the rodent.. and seeing as the pests are called off and retreating.. he calls off the wasps. "You lot can stop now," he says aloud, hopefully before too much damage is done. "Now. Are you quite finished?" he asks as he stares at Daphne. He's putting two and two together here. She was talking about squirrels.. he got attacked by three. She said she could talk.. he didn't take it seriously at first.. but now?

—-

She's actually still staring in shock at the poor squirrel who's crying silently in the tree, trying to get to where it's been stung by the flying buzzy things over and over. Daphne already knows it's too late, and that's what hurts the most - she just asked the critter to do something for her, and now it gets to die. And what's worse, she didn't even mean to ask it. It just happened. "God, it was an accid— " she stars, realising that she's admitting that she really did just talk to squirrels, /but./ She's looking at Rudyard in a whole new light now. "You made those bees sting me. /You made them sting me so I'd— I'd…!/" Take off her shirt!

—-

Rudyard is unamused about the squirrels.. even more unamused at the accusation. "I did no such thing! I was trying to keep them calm and from stinging people during the transport. You and your bloody cat agitated them! Quite full of yourself, aren't you woman? As if I would want to coerce you into disrobing, let alone in public."

—-

She has to actually stagger to her feet, because she still feels sick, and Daphne /will/ end up calling Laurel at this rate. However, she's just been insulted, and this is what you get for speaking to a woman who is irrational and ill - THERE IS NO RIGHT ANSWER. Standing up, forgetting the fact that this guy can summon /bees/ to EAT HER, she aims a slap for his face. "Are you saying I'm ugly?"

—-

"Quite hideous. You look as if you are carrying a communicable disease with that blotchy appearance you are sporting." Rudyard says without a trace of anger or heatedness. He steps neatly aside and dodges the slap aimed for his face. "Calm yourself woman, before you turn ill and vomit upon yourself or similar. Do contact your friend, you require a lengthy lie down and a cool shower.. perhaps a straight jacket as well."

—-

This is the worst day ever. She got stung by like a million bees, this guy is telling her she's ugly and crazy, she killed a squirrel - which sort of flops out of the tree behind Rudyard, drawing Daphne's wide-eyed expression for a moment, and— /EVERYTHING HURTS./ And this all happened in just the last, what, half hour or so? As blue eyes look back at Rudyard, her face falls, she says nothing, but her eyes? /SAY VOLUMES./ Because she's starting to cry, the tears gathering in her eyes before dramatically spilling over and /rolling down her cheeks./ And she sobs. HELP.

—-

Rudyard was about to say something even more ass-tastic when.. "What? Oh no.. what are you.. oh come now.. that's not playing fair. There's no need to cry." He looks… at a complete loss.. It's easy to be a proper fellow and a right jerk. But a crying woman? What the blazes is he supposed to do now!? "I'm terribly sorry about the squirrel, we can get you a new one if that's the problem.. or are you upset that I implied you were horrific to look at? If so, well I didn't mean it.. I was being sarcastic.. oh bollocks." He starts to pat down his pockets, then realizes his jacket is still on the ground. That's where his handkerchief is.. Blazes. He storms around Daphne to swipe it up from the ground and hands out the handkerchief. "Here. Stop crying would you?"

—-

What the hell! She's still staring at him as if he's grown another head! GET HER ANOTHER SQUIRREL?! "Are you a robot or something? /No,/ I don't want another squirrel! I've never— " She does have the presence of mind to look around her and make sure no one's listening in, and now that her shirt's back on, no one seems to really care what's going on. "I /asked/ it to do that, accidentally or /not,/ and now it's /dead/ because /it was covered in your god-damned BEES!/" Mopping her hand across her eyes - Daphne isn't near as proper as Rudyard - she can't seem to stop crying. "I'm in pain, and you're— you're talking to me about— "You /are!/ You're a bloody robot!"

—-

Rudyard blinks and just stares at the crazy woman. "What? A robot? Where on Earth did you get such a barmy notion as that?" He's still at a loss.. the woman is angry, and she's now crying! What the devil do you do with a crying woman!? "Correction, wasps. Not bees. Two completely different insects." Because he has to get that out and set the record straight. "Now see here miss, quit carrying on. You're making a scene." He's at a loss here as well. Aren't you supposed to pat a crying person on the shoulder or similar? Well he's not touching her. Not when she's sic'd a squirrel on him. "And of course you're in pain, and you're quite irrational at the moment." He falls quiet and rubs a hand across the back of his neck, then gives Daphne a most apologetic expression. "Miss Rousseau.. please stop crying." It's making him uncomfortable.

—-

You can't really call a crying woman irrational and /live,/ however, Daphne's already gotten the impression that this guy was raised in some sort of British box, where he never learned how to actually talk to women properly. "I don't care what they were!" she goes on, taking a step closer so she can get as close to his face as possible. Oh. Man. She's so going to pass out; the ground still feels like it's shifting under her feet. "Take your stupid bees and…"

DARE SHE SAY IT!?

No, she won't say 'shove them up your ass.' She's not that uncouth. "Sit on them," is what she eventually decides on, as she turns and starts to stalk away. She just makes it to a picnic table when she stumbles, loses her balance, and braces herself against it. Reaching for her pocket, she pulls out her cellphone, and… drops it. "Jesus," she mutters, hand going to her head. as she leans down to pick up the dropped cell. But she can't reach that and lan on the table at the same time. "Mister Kipling, please stop acting like an ass, and I'll stop crying."

—-

How did Daphne know!? What gave Rudyard away!? He's /such/ a people person too! "Obviously, you don't care, judging by your words and actions… sit on them? How charming Miss Rousseau.. and it's Thorpe, not Kipling… and sorry.. I am an arse, so kindly deal with it. Oh for heaven's sake.. let me get that for you. You're going to make yourself pass out." So he stoops to retrieve the dropped cellphone. "Would you please take a seat before you injure yourself? And again for the record, I did not want you to be stung, nor the cat." He sets the phone down on the picnic table before retrieving the chucked water bottle.. The rest of his things are well guarded by ze bees. So he's not concerned with that. The bottle of water however, is again offered to the woman. It's sealed. See? Hasn't been opened ever. "Take a few drinks, you will feel better." What's a guy have to do to get a woman to stop crying and being pissed off?

—-

Sit on them, yes. She was going to say something a whole lot worse than that, but she does have some tact. When Rudyard picks up her phone, she kind of grabs it away from him. Last time she ran into an evolved, she kind of suffered for it later… Namely, losing the ability to speak properly. Maybe she'll tell him that, but not today. "Look, just…" Closing her eyes, taking the water, she sits down at the picnic table. "I'm going to call my friend. Thank you for everything - the bees, the insults, killing the squirrel - that was /really/ the highlight of my day." She does calm down, though, the anger leaving her features. "I really just need to call someone to come help me, and I'd rather it not be… you know. You." It's New York, so the chances she'll run into Rudyard again are pretty slim. So she thinks. "Can you leave me alone?" In other words… you've done enough.

—-

Rudyard settles down at the table, sitting across from Daphne. Despite that she wants to be left alone. Sorry, he sat down too soon. "I see… You have my sincere apologies then." He gets up from the bench then, slipping on his suit jacket, the ID badge from the museum flapping into view. "Will you be alright as you wait? I can go stand over there, discreetly away if you like? Or I can leave you with a business card of mine." Not.. that it would be much help.. "Nevermind. I'll bugger off. You're quite correct. I've done enough damage for the day." With that, he shuts his yap, retrieves his things.. despite the bulkiness of the bee suit, the box with the hive.. He manages. And tromps off towards the direction of the museum.

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