2009-11-16: Frenemy Mine



Date: November 16, 2009


Felix finds Hallis mulling over a coffee, Hallis finds Felix unrelenting.

"Frenemy Mine"


It's early evening, the coffee shop is relatively quiet, or as quiet as a Starbucks can possibly be. Sitting at a table for two is a petite blonde woman with a large paper cup in front of her, receipts spread all over the table and a little notebook. She is scribbling furiously, a very pensive expression covers her visage. There is one receipt in particular that she keeps picking up and staring at as she taps the pen to one of the corners of the notebook. Apparently she has sat there for a long while, for there is no steam coming from her cup anymore.

Felix is dour and weary, as he comes in, wearing a dark greatcoat and a pale scarf. No glasses, for once - presumably he's got his contacts in. He insinuates himself into the line, and sets down his briefcase for a moment, rubbing at his eyes.

Hallis looks up as Felix breezes by her and frowns a little, quickly looking down at her notebook and trying to look as invisible as possible. Their last meeting has not been forgotten though the details now are hazy, for some reason, he was yelling at her. Wait a minute… why was he yelling? she thinks to herself, staring at the dark coated man. Perhaps he feels her eyes on her, perhaps he doesn't at this point… she doesn't really care.

She's not why he's here…but Fel all but double-takes once he spots her. He pays for his drink, once he's placed his order, and heads towards her, expression grim.

Her eyes meet his, unblinking and just as stern. Then suddenly, Hallis seems nervous about his approach and she suddenly scrambles to put away the receipts and the notebook, especially the notebook. Dumping it all into a blue Tiffany bag at her side, she folds her hands together and does her best to look pleasant. "Hello… Agent Isyanov? Is it?"

It never gets old, the way people react to his job. It's like being a priest, only with a gun. "Ivanov," he corrects her,amiably enough, though the faint smile does not reach his eyes. "I fear I don't recall your name,but I do know we've met before…."

"Ivanov, right. I'm Hallis Van Cortlandt." The young blonde woman says her name with a certain air of self importance even flipping her hair over her shoulders as she introduces herself. She doesn't give him a hand to shake though, for some reason the once cozy young woman has become shy of people touching her. "The last time we saw each other you were yelling at me, but I can't remember why. Do you?" She is fairly brazen about what details she knows, trying to sound as unafraid as she possibly can.

"You were being fairly rude to a rather sick young woman. You don't remember?" he asks,very gently, with an inquisitive lift of his brows.

Hallis' eyebrows knit together into a frown and her eyes dart back and forth, as though she is reading, or perhaps searching through her memory. "I…" One of her hands comes up and she presses the heel of her palm against her forehead hard, squeezing her eyes shut. "You were there… my shoes were ruined. They cost me an entire paycheck, they were shoes that I was told to buy… because of a fire. But.." She pauses and looks up at him, shaking her head before she rubs her hand against the side of her leg.

For some reason, he looks quite relieved. "That was unfortunate," he agrees, voice soft. "Told to buy?"

"Yes, but that is none of your business." Hallis says quite pointedly, narrowing her eyes at the man. "Who was the sick young lady I was being rude to and why can I remember you yelling but not her?" Slowly, she reaches to her side, trying her best to be inconspicuous.

And his gaze darts right to that sneaking hand, and he gives her a 'Don't even try it' look. Almost stern. "I don't know. Have you been ill recently?"

The look he receives in return is quite challenging and Hallis purses her lips, narrowing her eyes to almost slits as she stares back at him. He's uncooperative, suspiciously so. "No, I haven't been ill. In fact, I've been healthier than ever. I've been cleaning up." And then? She does try it.

He tenses, like he might be ready to run…or draw some sort of weapon himself. "Cleaning up?" he parrots back, blue eyes narrow.

Hallis pulls a notebook out of her bag and a pen, holding them under the table. Slowly, she opens it and writes something down into it then closes it quickly before (what she hopes) the agent has a chance to see. "Yes cleaning up. Going straight. You were a cop, weren't you? You should know about my little mishaps." She's not remorseful, not even a little bit. The woman has come to terms with what she's done and feels every bit the victim.

"It's been a while since I was a cop," he says, calmly. "What sort of trouble did you get up to?"

"Look it up." Hallis says slowly, her jaw tensing. "Who was the woman that was throwing up? Why can't I remember her? Did she do something to me? Is she like them?" The questions come out in rapid succession, as though well practiced. The woman's large blue eyes brim with tears and she finally averts her eyes, losing the stare off.

His stillness is…perturbing. Not quite frozen, but poised like a cat at a mouse hole. "Who's -them-?" he wonders, tone apparently casual. Ignoring the drink left for him at the counter.

"Them…" comes Hallis' coarse and quiet reply. "The two guys that murdered those people. The bad ones." She sounds as small as she is, almost childlike. Still refusing to look at him, she gathers her things and shakes her head. "Never mind. You couldn't give a shit about someone like me. That's why you were yelling at me."

"You're very wrong," Felix says, but his tone is now insistent. "What bad people?"

"Look it up." The socialite repeats, hurrying to pack up her things. She casts him a suspicious glance and shakes her head. "For all I know, you could be one of them. Putting people on trains like Jews in the Holocaust or Japanese people here." She straightens up to her full height of 5'1" minus the heels and gives him a pointed stare. "But you can't load me onto one, I'm not like them."

Felix assures her, with no little sarcasm in his voice, "I've done quite the opposite, I promise you. While I do work for the government, it's not that part of it. If anything…." he trails off, suddenly unsure.

"If anything what? You just feed lists to the people that do? I heard about it. I heard that the government is killing people, little kids. Because they can do things that other people can't." If ever there were anyone on the fence, it is Hallis. On one hand, she's seen the worst, on the other, she's seen the best… then there's the thing in between that she just can't remember. "Maybe it's because of you and your people that Mister Ling was murdered. Because of the trains and the holocaust."

The accusation stings…..and the Fed's face tightens into a very forbidding expression. "I…." He bites off what he was going to say. "How do you know about all this? And no. I'm not a participant. I catch bad guys, I don't persecute people for what they can't help."

"Who was the woman that was throwing up?" Hallis retorts, putting a very stern expression on her face. "For all I know, she works with CIA or FBI or some other people in the government and she was picking my brain for stuff that I know. I'm missing chunks out of my days. There's… blank spots that I know things happened. You know what it is. You're probably one of those spook people that's going to set me up. But if you do I have insurance. You can bet on that."

"If you're not a mutant, what do you have to fear?" Fel asks, and his tone is deliberate. Very mild, conversational. Like he discusses this kind of thing every day. "And what's it to you?"

Frowning deeply, Hallis sets her jaw, pausing as she finishes wrapping her shawl around her person. "Don't call them that," she says lowly, "That's such a derogatory term. They're not glorified comic book heroes. They're people who have mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and kids… And there's something happening that the government is trying to hide." For some odd reason, Shallow Hal is taking this all rather personally.

He slips a hand into his pocket, in turn. And produces….not a weapon or a tranq gun or a badge, but a golden dollar coin. Sacajawea, not one of the presidents. He shows it to her, on his palm, rather secretively. And then slips his hand away…leaving the coin in the air. It hovers here, just a moment, before he puts his hand a few inches under it. It drifts down, as if it were a feather, rather than a metal slug.

Taking a deep breath of air, Hallis' eyes widen and she just stares at the man. Slowly, she sits back down and produces a small notebook. "You're…" she whispers, rather conspiratorially. A quick glance around is given before she leans in, "You know the sick woman, is she like Flint the Fireman or Knocks the really strong guy? Is she bad like them? Why did she steal my time? What happened to me?" Her eyebrows furrow and she swallows hard. "I can't remember a whole afternoon, when I try to remember why you were yelling at me… There's dark patches, like a black blur."

"One of them. Though not like -them- in particular. Not everyone with an unusual ability is necessarily malicious, or a danger," Fel says, as he drops the coin back into his coat pocket. "No. She's not. Don't worry about her. Don't press her, and she's no threat to you. Now, what else do you know about this?"

"She's some kind of threat to me, she's stealing my memories. How do I know she's not still doing it? How do I know how long it's been happening?" Hallis is rather insistent as she sits across from him, clenching and unclenching her jaw. "I know what I told you… and some other things that I'm not telling you." She is quite sober now, acting almost hurt. "Tell that woman to give me back my memories, it's like she raped my head.. and that's wrong. You don't do that to people."

Felix notes, dryly, "She doesn't exactly take orders from me, I fear. And I don't know that she can. If I were you, I'd leave her alone."

"What if she tries to kill me? I don't even know this woman except that you said she was sick. What if she made me sick?" Hallis narrows her eyes again and slips off her chair. "She's your boss then? Are you coming to check up on me to make sure that she mind raped me really good? Why do I need to leave her alone? What did I do to her?"

"Apparently went to her and threatened her," He seats himself across from her, without invitation, breathes out in a slow sigh. "No, she's not. She's merely a scared young woman. Not part of the conspiracy, but on the run."

"No, I wouldn't do that." Hallis says in a low tone, staring at the notebook in her hands. "She's lying. She's lying and she made sure I can't remember anything to cover it up." She flips open her notebook and jots down a few notes, in very slow cursive. "If she's on the run why didn't she make you forget about her? Doesn't her power work on …" She falls silent and quirks her eyebrows slightly.

"Are you stopping the trains then? Were you…" That is where Hallis falls silent and looks away. "Never mind, I've already talked to you way too much. You're not going to tell me anything else." She gathers her things (yet again) and gives Felix a curt nod. "Good bye Agent Ivanov. I hope your friend doesn't rape anyone else."

Felix notes, very gently, "I did stop one of the trains. To free the prisoners on it."

Hallis ignores his parting comment, as though she just doesn't want to hear any more. With her head hung slow, she trudges from the coffee shop, looking quite beaten. The door opens and she passes through it, across the curb and into a waiting cab. Before it peels away from the curb, she gives the man inside one last look.

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