2007-05-21: Don't Drop The Chalupa

Starring:

Molly_icon.gif Lachlan_icon.gif

Summary:

Lachlan and Molly meet in Kirby Plaza where they talk about chinchillas and dogs. Lachlan manages his first non-dog connection…with a chalupa.

May 21st, 2007:

Don't Drop the Chalupa


Kirby Plaza

The day outside looks overcast, however there's no rain falling quite yet. Though she's been under pretty tight security ever since she moved back into Kirby Plaza, Molly is still able to head outside every now and then. And today is one of those days. What with an entire detail of Company Agents just inside the building and two specifically looking out for her as she sits out on a bench, she should be perfectly safe. So, she is enjoying her time outside. And, other than the Company Agents, she is not alone. A little fuzzy animal is curled up at her feet chittering in a nervous manner. It's got a tiny little harness around it's midsection and a thin leash that trails up into Molly's hands. A small box sits next to her on the bench. Yes. Molly is taking her chinchilla out for a walk. Whether it likes it or not. "Nicoooo. Stop being such a baby. You like the outside."

The last time Lachlan was anywhere near Kirby Plaza was the night Padfoot died. Since then, he's kinda tended to avoid the place. A lot. Like it's got some sort of disease, maybe. What brings him by now is anyone's guess. Maybe he wanted to glare a the building. Maybe he figured he'd show his defiance by pissing on the orange sculpture in the center. Nobody knows why Lachlan does these crazy things. Whatever his plans were, though, they are completely waylaid when he spots a familiar little girl and a … a … what the hell /is/ that? Lachlan often forgets faces and names, but he rarely ever forgets someone who was kind to his dogs. The Scotsman grins and heads over toward Molly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and a lit cigarette between his lips. "Dinna know ye could walk a rabbit," he remarks once he's in conversational range.

The Company Agents are quite attentive on their charge and they start to approach Lachlan when he approaches Molly. Random guy talking to their charge does not bode well. However, Molly looks up from where she is chiding Nico and then keeps looking up. And up. /Boy/ is this guy tall. Finally, she shields a hand over her eyes and squints up at the Scot. It takes her a little while to figure out who he is without his dogs, but finally she gets it. "Hey! You're the guy with the doggies!" That's when she notices the quickly approaching guards. "It's okay! I know him!" she calls out and gives a wave. Then, as if this is something quite normal, she glances back down at her chinchilla. "Nico is not a rabbit. He is a chinchilla." Bending down, she scoops the animal in question into her arms. "See?" As if holding it up closer to Lachlan's stratosphere should help him identify it.

It's probably a good thing Lachlan doesn't have his dogs, otherwise they'd want to eat Nico the rabb— er chinchilla. They'd probably also want to eat the guards that start to approach, which he happens to spot. The Scotsman tenses, because suits of any sort in /this/ particular plaza are a source of major alarm for him, but then Molly calls them off and he relaxes some. It's certainly made him painfully aware of them, though, and he casts the occasional glare their way. Bloody guards. Most of his focus is on the girl and her chinchilla, though, the latter of which he examines with some puzzlement. It's like someone took a rat and a rabbit and smooshed them together into a ball of fluff with huge eyes. "Oh," he grunts at the correction. "Wha's a chalupa?"

The guards stick a little closer to the pair because they /don't/ know Lachlan and they're not about to risk being turned into gold and hung up in the hallway leading to Bob's office because they let some random guy make off with Molly. It's close enough that should the Scot try anything, he'll be in for a world of trouble. "A /chinchilla/," Molly giggles at Lachlan and then holds it up high enough for him to be able to take it. "It /purrs/." This is /obviously/ something that is quite exciting for the little girl. The Chinchilla takes all this abuse with a resigned sort of sigh. It's used to it by now. It's already been forced to ride on Matt's head and hidden in one of Mohinder's beakers while she was bored to try and scare him. "Where're your dogs?"

There's not much choice in the matter. When kids hand you things, you take them. Lachlan takes the chinchilla and holds it at something akin to arm's length, staring at it like it might … flip out and attack him or pee on his shirt. Something like that. It's soft, at least, and that theory about fluffiness definitely holds true. "Oh." So he adds 'cat' to the list of Things That Went Into The Creation Of This Genetic Freak, because it apparently purrs. "S'fluffy." Yeah. Fluffy. Another glance is given toward the guards, this one cautioning them against so much as cracking a smile, and then he tucks the chinchilla in a little closer to more /properly/ hold it (he hopes this is the proper way to hold it, anyway). "M'dogs're … uh. They went away … fer a bit. Sent 'em ta visit some people." He doesn't much like breaching the subject of death with kids.

Beaming, Molly watches Lachlan take a hold of Nico and nods. "He /likes/ you." How Molly knows this is unknown. Because there is no real change in Nico's demeanor other than a tiny chitter. It kind of stays as still as possible, as if knowing that at any moment, the Scot will drop him and he'll be a broken little chinchilla. There is no purring today for him. "I know! Isn't he great? His name's Nicodemus. I call him Nico for short. Mohinder got him for me as a guilt present. He knew I didn't want to move back into Kirby, so he bought me a chinchilla." Too much information? Sure. But, she's a talkative child and she hasn't had too many people to talk to other than her family. "Aww. When'll you have them back? I wanted to play with Barguest again. He played fetch." Not that Lachlan would know, but death is a subject that Molly is quite familiar with.

Mohinder. That guy still isn't on Lachlan's list of People Who Are Cool. He frowns a bit at the mention of the name, and frowns further at the mention of Molly living here. He looks up at the building, then at the guards, absently stroking the chinchilla's back with one hand. "Ye live here?" Why? That Sylar guy? Maybe. Considering that Mohinder is Company, they probably treat his little girl like a bloody princess here.

The subject of his dogs makes him frown even more, and he looks down at the concrete. "They're, uh … they're no' comin' back." He says it flatly, almost emotionlessly, but it's almost a given that the more emotionless he sounds, the more he's hurting.

A princess, she may not be, but Molly certainly is well treated in Kirby Plaza. When she notices Lachlan petting Nico, her grin grows broader. And, finally, Nico starts to purr. Just like Molly said he would. After all, what else can he do under such loving attention. "Yeah. It's kind of like a hotel. Sort of. I can't wait till I can go home, though. I miss it." Her voice is wistful. She misses the time when she could just not worry about going outside.

The subject of the dogs wipes both the smile and wistfulness off of her face. She's dealt with death enough that she knows what Lachlan means when he says that they're never coming back. "I'm sorry." Even if she knows that nothing she says will help. It reminds her of her parents and what all the Feds kept saying about them while they were trying to make her speak again. This sort of thinking makes her need her furry animal. So, she reaches out with her arms, the leash still looped around her wrist, in order to reclaim her purring Nico.

Well, Lachlan's not the type to keep a child from her furry animal, so he passes over the purring Nico without hesitation. Hell, he'd probably forgotten he was even holding the thing, let alone petting it. It just spontaneously started purring, for all he knows. "Nah, s'a'righ'. Dunna worry 'bout it." Change the subject, change the subject. Another glance around the plaza. "They treatin' ye a'righ', then? Nothin' bad 'r anythin'?"

Nico back in her arms, Molly starts petting his soft fur. Nico takes this quite well, continuing to purr and curls up in the young girl's lap. "They?" Molly tilts her head at Lachlan and then looks past him at the guards watching over her. It was of her opinion that not many people knew who the 'they' she was being watched over were. But, maybe he means Mohinder and Matt? "Well, Matt and Mohinder wouldn't let anything bad happen to me if they could." The stuff with Sylar is obviously out of their control, as much as they may try.

Matt and Mohinder are not the 'they' that Lachlan meant, though. He raises an eyebrow, plucking the cigarette from between his lips and digging about for his pack. Chain-smoking. This place makes him nervous. "Tha's good, then. Them takin' good care o' ye." He frowns down at the chinchilla as he lights the new cigarette off the smouldering butt of the old, then drops the spent cigarette and grinds it out with the toe of his boot. "Ye should get a dog," he remarks.

"Well. They would. They're my family." Molly smiles her innocent little girl smile at Lachlan as she continues to pet Nico. "Or all I've got left of one." Since that's sort of needed to be qualified. At the dog remark, she grins. "I want one. But I don't think they'll let me until we're settled again. Maybe you should get a chinchilla." She's noticed his demeanor around here and as he goes for another cigarette, she pauses before asking, "Why's this place make you so nervous?"

Now if that isn't a loaded question, Lachlan doesn't know what is. He grimaces a bit, hissing smoke out from between his teeth as he squints at his surroundings. "People 'round here an' me dunna get along so well," he states finally, vaguely. His attention once again goes to Nico, whom he considers a moment. Daphne's offer of teaching him is still running through his head and, well, he's impatient. Maybe he could learn Chinchilla. Maybe. Hmm. "Dunno if tha's m'type o' pet."

"You mean all of New York or just here?" Molly watches Lachlan. It may be a loaded question, but she's generally just curious. She can't help it whens he's found something that she gets interested in. And he's not originally from around here, just like her, so it's possible that the whole place makes him nervous. Even if he seemed pretty at ease in Central Park. Then, she grins. "Of course it's your type of pet. Chinchilla's are /everyone's/ type of pet. You can't have Nico, though. He's mine."

Well, that's a /really/ loaded question. Lachlan clears his throat softly, his eyes roaming again to the plaza and the people in it. "Just 'round here." It's a muttered response, not terribly loud, but audible. Another pull from the cigarette before he takes it from his mouth and crouches down to peer closely at Nico. Hmm. The Scotsman adopts a thoughtful expression, then half-closes his eyes and concentrates. If he were a weird genetic freak rat/rabbit/cat hybrid, what would he be thinking? He reaches out mentally, trying to grasp that same familiarity — that same connection — that he constantly shares with dogs. Remember the fluffiness, remember the purring …

First there's pain. Just a dull throbbing at the back of his head at first, then it grows more like a migraine the more he concentrates on the little fuzzy thing. This is what it was like before — the headaches, brief snatches of thoughts. After a few moments, there's a faint flickering of thoughts of an unfamiliar signature. He latches onto that, grinning a bit. Hello, Nicodemus. He can't quite /communicate/ with the thing, but he can hear it, even though it's causing him some considerable pain.

"Oh." Molly frowns and looks at the building in front of her and behind Lachlan and then at the guards that are still watching him like a hawk. And then she looks back at Lachlan. Hm. Well. That's interesting, isn't it? When he closes his eyes, she has no idea what he's doing, but it doesn't look like he's thinking happy thoughts. He looks more like he's in pain than anything else and that's not something she wants to see him in. "Are you okay?" Nico, for his part, has no idea that Lachlan is trying to read his thoughts. They're simple ones, for that matter. Mostly just contentment at being in Molly's lap and being patted, though really he just wants to be back inside where things are not so open.

There's a small smirk from Lachlan, but he can't hold the connection long. That headache is really flooring him, and he knows he'll be down for the count if he doesn't stop this craziness soon. Maybe it would be easier if the chinchilla were a fox. Foxes are much closer related to dogs than chinchillas. He drops the connection — and grimaces fully as the headache /really/ hits. "Ffffuck," he grumbles under his breath, bringing a hand up to rub at his right temple. That /hurts/. "Yeah, nah, 'm fine." He waves off Molly's concern with a shake of his head. "Think Nico wants ta go back inside, though."

When Lachlan smirks and swears, Molly's eyes widen. People don't normally swear in front of her. Being eleven kind of makes them try to not do that. "You don't look fine," she replies dubiously. Then, she looks down at the purring Nico and up at Lachlan. "He likes being in my lap." But she looks up at the sky and then over at the agents getting itchy to be back inside and sighs. "But he probably wouldn't mind going back inside. It's about time for his dirt bath."

Dirt … bath? So a chinchilla is a rat/rabbit/cat/pig hybrid. The more he learns about these things, the more bizarre they seem. "Yeah, he likes bein' in yer lap," Lachlan chuckles, "but s'the open spaces he doesna like." God, headache. He needs to get home and down some aspirin or something. Then lie down and not move for a while. The Scotsman rises to a standing position again, still clutching his head with one hand. Urgh. "Ye take care o' yerself now, a'righ'? Mebbe I'll stop by again sometime."

Not a pig! But water doesn't really work well for a chinchilla's poor skin. The need dirt to clean themselves off properly. When Lachlan continues on about what he supposedly knows Nico likes, Molly gives him a curious stare. How does he know this? Is he just making it up because he thinks she's a kid and he should humor her? Who knows. But, he's certainly interesting to talk to. And he swore in front of her, which other adults don't. "You too. I'm sure I'll see you around." Because, well, she can find him any time she wants to.

Other adults tend to have morals about such things. Lachlan … doesn't. Hey, his father swore in front of /him/ when he was a kid, so it's not like he had a great role model on that sort of thing when he was growing up. With that and a grin (and no explanation as to how he knows Nico's thoughts), the Scotsman turns and sets off back the way he came — back toward home, some ibuprofen, and a nice comfy couch.

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