2007-10-15: Cure What Ails You


Nathan_icon.gif Mariska_icon.gif

Summary: Nathan breaks quarantine to leave a note. But as fate would have it…

Date It Happened: October 16th, 2007

Cure What Ails You

The Woolworth Building

It's been quite a long time since Nathan has been out and about (and up, up and away). Sometimes you just need to. He promised himself he'd make no contact with anyone, just in out. Like a ninja. Probably will mean getting yelled at by Peter and Cass but he's older than both of them, so whatever. When he lands on the uppermost surface of the Woolworth Building, he has to stop for a moment, hands on his knees and hunched over, breathing in the nearly icy night air with hard breaths. Flying with a fever is not the funnest thing to do. Flying with a fever, fatiguedness, aching joints, and a headache? Even lamer. But finally, he straightens his back, pulling his thick black coat around him a little further even as he takes a piece of paper out of his pocket. Strange, how this can take priority, and he glances down at the briefly worded letter, now flapping in the wind and trapped between his fingertips. Stupid. Oh well

If there's one thing to be said about New York City, it's that there certainly isn't a shortage of excessively tall buildings. Upon their last encounter atop the Empire State, the mysterious flying man had suggested to Mariska an alternative meeting place for their next encounter — the Woolworth's building on Broadway — not exactly the most subtle but… New York doesn't really do subtle. It had taken her a few jumps to reach the very top, but by the time she'd finally made it, it was well-worth the work. The view was no less spectacular than that offered from the top of their prior rendezvous point. Of course, after lingering for the fourth staggered night without any sign of contact, the Russian had begun to wonder if perhaps what he'd really been telling her was that he preferred to occupy the mooring ring of the Empire State building alone.

Alright. Fair enough. She'd lingered for as long as she conceivably could. Wasn't there someone waiting for her at home? Mariska gathered up the blanket and the bottle she'd brought with her and stepped out from beneath the upper-most overhang to take in one last amazingly panoramic view of the city before literally popping back to Queens.

Nathan's trying to find a place he can put a note that won't immediately fly away, and not so hidden that it won't be found, when someone steps into his periphery. Nathan immediately steps further towards the structure of the building, hoping that the evening non-light and his dark clothing will obscure him— when, against all odds, the woman for whom he had been leaving a note is identified as such. He hesitates, and it's clear she's about to disappear now— and so Nathan steps forward. "Hey," he says, just loud enough to be heard, the tails of his three-quarter length coat flapping almost noisily when a sudden winter gust blows through, as it's wont to do.

That's how these things happen, right? Serendipitous coincidence. The teleporter pauses her pre-jump prep to turn her head and, oh, hey. "Hey," she echoes, taking a few precarious steps to close the distance, coming into focus in the frame with a smile on. She's dressed for the warmly for the weather, wearing a half-length wool coat and toting a blanket over one arm. The bottle she wields in one hand remains at her side, its contents a mystery for the moment. "I thought maybe… you are not coming."

The note in his hand is clenched, and then smoothly pocketed, even as he steps away from her when she comes forward. "I haven't been well," Nathan says, some apology in his voice, along with warning. "I'm still not. Not even really meant to be out here right now," he adds with a glance around, as if expecting someone to pop out and berate him, but there is, of course, no one out here but he and his fellow rooftop dweller. The fact that he isn't 'well' might be hard to tell in this lighting, especially seeing as they've only met a couple of times. But if there's anything to notice, it's paleness, weariness, a general feverish quality. But he's carrying it off well, for now.

Over the last few months or so, Mariska has become intimately acquainted with the difference between a man in good health and one otherwise appointed… and so when Nathan explains his absence due to illness, she immediately begins to divine the signs. However, her scrutiny takes on a sort of sharpness that suggests she's making a thorough inspection of the parts of him she can see as if in search for traces of stitches or scarring or perhaps hideous acid burns. "You are sick?" she wonders, chin inclined. "Or… injured?"

Nope, none of those. Ancient scars faded over time (and a little regenerative help) at his jaw can hardly count here, either. Nathan shakes his head at that last one. "No, not injured. I have, uh…" He kind of doesn't want to scare her off - talking to someone different than the tiny group he's been associating with is refreshing. But, no point in lying here, is there? "I have a virus, so yes— I'm sick. Along with a couple of other people who are…" Uncomfortably shrug goes here. "Like us. People with power."

"Oh." Plague. No good. Mariska takes an unconscious step back, just in case proximity might play a role in infection, but remains otherwise unaffected by this revelation. "You will be okay? You find cure?" Because the last thing she wants to do is get all attached to some anonymous stranger just to have him croak on her. That would be tragic. And suck.

The step back is noted, and meets silent approval, even if he's been told that the virus doesn't carry over that easily. "I'll be fine," Nathan assures her, rubbing his hands together against the temperature of the setting. But enough about me… His gaze wanders over her, and inevitably towards the bottle she's holding. "What's that?" he asks, with a nod to it, as he moves to stand near the precipice of this landing, finally noting the view now that he's here. It's consistently beautiful.

What bott— oh, this? Mariska's gaze tumble down to the booze all but forgotten in her grip and takes pause, contemplating untold koans before swinging the object up and offering Nathan the butt of the bottle. The labeling and etching thereon is entirely in Cyrillic while the contents appear to be clear. Three guesses as to what it is — first two don't count. With a roll of her shoulders and a growing grin, she suggests, "You take it. Make you feel better." Cures what ails ya!

Nathan raises an eyebrow, and as if matching her, his own smile occurs as he reaches out to take the bottle of booze. Not hard to avoid contact, but he makes a point to anyway, cradling the bottle in both hands as he— doesn't read the label, exactly, but looks it over anyway with obvious appreciation. Man likes his drink, okay, and surprise gifts are nice for anyone. "Thank you," he says, once he looks back up at her, now mimicking her prior pose by letting it dangle from the neck in his hand. "I think that'll do it, yeah. How've…" A nod to her. "How've you been doing?" Last he checked, she wasn't in an amazing state of mind.

Mariska's dark brows bounce in reply, as if to suggest that she's still breathing and perhaps not a plague-carrier and therefore fine. "I have been…" She searches for a word or phrase that might be both accurate and vague at the same time. This is hardly the moment to divulge the details of her encounters with a trio of diabolical villains or the day to day oddity that is her fraudulent marriage. "…adjusting." Yeah. That kinda covers it. "I am fine," she adds, just in case 'adjusting' wasn't sufficiently affirmative to suggest she won't be taking another header off a building any time soon. While he's around to stop her.

Nor is it time for him to divulge the details of his encounter with one of the trio of diabolical villains or the day to day oddity that is his legal marriage. But at least she doesn't have an illegitimate child who is a freak! Right? …right?

Moving on.

"Adjusting's good," Nathan says, non-commitally. He glances around them, to indicate their surroundings. The glow of lights from beneath them on the other tiers kind of add a new dynamic to the place than the more lonely feeling mooring ring of the Empire State. "How'd this place go? Gain that perspective yet?"

"Still looking," Mariska says in reply, showing him more of her coated shoulder in order to sweep a look over over the city that surrounds them. So what if she's taken in the view of some two dozen famous places around the globe — New York at night never fails to impress. She sighs, swings her gaze back over to Nathan and then suggests, "You should go home. Get some rest." Poor thing. She doesn't really realize that he can't. Go home, that is. "Come back when you are feeling better," she adds with a concerned but certain smile. "I will still be here." She hopes, barring any sort of disastrous confrontation and agonizing death at the hands of Lukas or Jeremiah or Mandy… or Gabriel Gray.

The 'go home' isn't corrected, Nathan just offering up a twist of a smile, then a nod. He wants to stay, but it'd be stupid to endanger her just because he's tired of talking to people who are going from friends and family to doctors and patients, in his mind. The liquor bottle is held tightly. "I'll come back," he promises, then takes a breath. And a leap. At a hard angle, he goes rocketing off into the sky - almost passing by dangerously close to Mariska, enough that she can probably feel him go by despite not contact being made.

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