Starring:
Guest Starring:
Summary: An unexpected connection is found between some unexpected faces.
Date It Happened: August 27th, 2008
Glimpses
Deveaux Building
Upper West Side, Manhattan
It is early evening. Quinn has no work today, for a change. Eating at the club is like working, she'll have to shmooze with the customers. Eating her own cooking? That's punishment and she's not been that naughty. So time to see what else the neighborhood has to offer. Passing by a rather familiar building, she notices it not only contains several weird occupants, but an actual cafe! Dressed in her usual sleek man tailored suit, short red hair elegantly mussed, she pushes open the door to the building to make her entrance.
Close-by, across the lobby of the classic old building, is the glass door to the cafe Quinn glanced in from the street. Even from there, laughter can be heard ringing out, that of a feminine-voiced woman and a growing teenage boy still laced with the happy-go-lucky tone of a child. "Just run up and get your things! We don't wanna be late," the woman — Niki — calls out pleasantly inside the cafe, giving the boy, darker-skinned and curly-haired, a friendly pat to hurry him along.
The problem is, though, that Micah is looking over his shoulder and still laughing at his mom when, ready to jog out, he flings the door to the cafe open.
So much for a grand, or even dignified entrance. The door smacks her right in the forehead, and Quinn falls back. If the hit to the front of the head wasn't enough, concrete against the back of her head is enough to put her out like someone flipped a switch. There's no fading, or fuzzing, the edges of Quinn's form melt away, morphing into quite a different appearance, quite an unexpected one.
For Micah, the surprise is that the woman changed at all —but mostly, it's that she was hit by the door! Oh no! "I'm sorry ma'am! Are you okay?!" Instantly concerned, bright-eyed face bursting with apology, the boy holds the door open and calls out: "Mom!"
For Niki, who didn't see the shift and wouldn't have recognized the redhead to begin with, the surprise is a little different. Pausing in her turnaround away from Micah, she suddenly spins, blue eyes wide. She's quick to run to the fallen girl, kneeling. "Oh God— are you okay?" she happens to mimic her son's words. "I shouldn't've told him to run— " She gently turns the girl's head to one side, checking to see if she's awake or hurt. That's about when her brow starts to knit, an unexpected realization settling in.
Quinn slowly comes too. She's too dizzy at first to realize what happened, and where she is. Blue eyes are the only thing really the same, and even they look darker, more vivid framed by the black brows and the silky black hair. Features are no longer strong and rather androgynous, but delicate, feminine. She shakes it off, then she looks down, gasping as she mutters, "Oh, damn it!" as she looks around rather frantically, trying to scramble up to maybe find privacy.. phone booth, anything.
She's awake! And not bleeding! These are good things in Niki's book. She's looking about as apologetic and horrified as Micah, her accidental partner-in-crime. She lays a hand on Quinn's shoulder, a firm and warm touch that holds on to make the scramble up a little easier. The blonde squints at the woman, something still bothering her— that nagging familiarity toward the new face. "I … know you— " Niki ventures, more and more sure. "From Vegas. The Corinthian a few years back."
"Mom," Micah starts off with an insistent voice to his mother, quiet, mouthing the words with widening (and all too observant) eyes. He doesn't want anyone else to hear — or for the woman on the floor to clue in herself. "She changed."
Quinn pales a bit, eyes fluttering closed. "Holy.." then remembering the kid, she finishes, "cats.. Umm.." she gets up, glancing around carefully. "Could I.." she tries to move between Niki and the wall. If managed, when Niki turns, she sees someone else.
Micah watches, dark eyes glistening perceptively, trying to lean around Niki to see—
And Niki does make a better door than a window, but she's not understanding just what's going on as sharply as her son. Changed— ? She turns around, brows together in confusion… confusion that, once she sees a totally different person standing there by the wall, turns dark. "…who are you," she's quick to say, a fair bit of threat and blame in a voice that was nothing but concerned before. She takes a step back and shuffles Micah back behind her. "The girl I saw… the girl on the floor— she was a Lyons."
Quinn takes a deep breath, brushing a hand through now short red hair. "What a coincidence." she says, with a cough. "That's my name too. Quinn.. Lyons." she tilts her head, "Not many around here know.. would know that by sight."
"I'm not so sure coincidence is real," Niki says with a light smile forming around a warier, edgier expression. Her last encounter with illusionist or shape shifter — besides Peter — was … not inspiring of confidence. She eyes the new Quinn (new to her, at least) unsurely. "I lived in Vegas. The Lyonses… they were performers," she says with a questioning tone.
Quinn nods slowly, taking a breath, "Vegas.. that explains a lot." she glances around, "Maybe not the right venue for this. But I can say.. I know them."
"…You are them," Niki says, flashing a tenuous smile. "You were that girl and then— you weren't." Since she's not running away in shock, that's gotta count for something. Her son isn't, either; he just observes with keen interest, looking like he's going to interject any second. Niki speaks up again to Quinn before he can. "You don't have to tell me, it's okay," she says, her smile becoming a bit brighter, a bit more sincere even though she's still on gaurd. "But your secret's safe with me."
Quinn takes a breath, nodding. "Thank you. Umm.. yeah, it'd really blow my act, you know?" with a relieved smile. "I mean, really.. can you imagine that managing to look like Frank Sinatra on stage?"
"Not so much," Niki has to agree. She gives a shrug with one shoulder. "I used to work at the casino— I usually wouldn't be anywhere near the stage shows, but every now and then I'd catch it between shifts. You guys were good."
Quinn smiles wistfully. "Yeah, I do miss those days. I mean, the Imago is a great gig, but its not Vegas, you know? And what I do? Its not exactly Broadway, you know? So, what'd you do at the casino? I never mingled much then.. " she smiles wryly. "I was younger, my parents wanted me to avoid the 'bad element'."
Bad element, huh. "…like the gamblers?" Niki attempts to finish that thought with a hint of a smirk. "I worked the tables. Dealing cards mostly. I'm— Niki, by the way," she offers, warming up to the illusionist and starting to be sure she's… real, despite her false face. "This is my son, Micah."
"Hi,"Micah pipes up,"I'm really sorry!"
Quinn rubs her head and she chuckles, 'I'm.. well, call me Quinn." she says, with a twinkle. "And Micah, huh?' she peeks around to look at the kid, "That's ok, kid. I would've swore I had a harder head than that." she rubs it with a wince.
"Still," the boy says with a chuckle, "I should've been watching where I was going."
"And on that note— " Niki says with a brisk pat of Micah's back, "We gotta get going. Um— sorry. Again. For that. Maybe you should— get— um, some ice. From the cafe? Good luck with … Sinatra." The ex-casino worker gives Quinn one last smile and a long look — the illusion is such a complete one-eighty it's hard to grasp what's behind it — and starts to turn away, toward the elevators.
Quinn nods as she grins, "If you get a chance, come by the Imago and see for yourself. Bring the kid, I try to be family friendly.. at least on matinees." she waves she continues on her way to the cafe.. probably to get that ice.