2007-04-13: How To Harbor A Psychic

Starring:

Elena_icon.gif Desiree_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: Elena sets off on a Saturday afternoon in search of the woman who saved her father's life and soul….and runs into her in Central Park. Peter ends up running into them as well, and Desiree confesses the real reason she's in New York. Elena makes an offer for Desiree to stay at the Gomez apartment for a while.

Date It Happened: April 13, 2007

How To Harbor A Psychic


Central Park

Friday Afternoon.

Central Park is teeming with activity. Spring has done wonders for it in such a short time. There are children playing, with their parents looking on fondly. That Same Guy is still manning the hotdog cart by the fringes, and with the days getting warmer, the ice cream trucks are around, given all the children that were out today. Couple walk by holding hands, a man is kindly twisting balloons into shapes for those who want them, people are passing fliers around for the latest shows in Broadway, or the latest protest. Weekends in New York are very much like its nightlife, it was chockful of activity strange and benign.

Elena ventures out of the nearest flower shop by the park, carrying under her arm a small, potted plant with white and purple orchids planted on it. It is wrapped up in plastic to keep the chill from the plant, which thrived in warmer climes. She's also got tupperware in her other hand. Her backpack is slung on her shoulder - and while the weather is getting warmer, it's still not warm enough to venture outdoors without something on. A bright, multicolored scarf flutters around her neck as she crosses the street.

Now…where was it again?

Wandering around Central Park, not seeming to have a care in the world (oh, appearances…) is a tall woman with dark, curly hair, swinging a wooden-handled umbrella to and fro over her forearm: Desiree. The folded portion of the umbrella itself is black with tiny white poodles polkadotted all over it; it's a pretty spring day out now, but there was a hint of rain earlier! She saw it! In a casual olive green dress with half-sleeves and a lot of pockets and a headband of the same colour tied around her head, she's tossed on a fuzzy black cardigan against the lingering chill. Clueless to the fact that the multi-tasking Gomez girl is in the vicinity, Desiree is making her way toward the ice cream stand. She eyes the balloon animals suspiciously on her way. "Don't you even think about it," she tells a bright red giraffe.

The Red Giraffe stares at Desiree with its 'What? Me?' face.

The Ice Cream Guy looks a little harried, having just managed to juggle a ten-cone order with just one family that had decided that Overpopulation wasn't a problem. Either that, or they were taking a page from the Brady Bunch, but he finally relaxes when the mom, dad, and their -army- of towheaded kids finally leave his vicinity. He exhales, and smiles at Desiree tiredly. "And what'll you be havin', pretty lady?" he asks.

Elena manages to cross the street without dropping anything, get burned to a crisp, or shot. This day is clearly looking up. Exhaling a breath, she smiles when she sees the horde of blonde kids move past her, but when the traffic clears, she catches sight of a very tall, familiar looking dark-haired lady. She'd wave if she could, but since she can't, she settles for calling out instead. "Ms. Russo!" she greets, cheerful as always, and quickens her pace to Desiree and the Ice Cream Guy. And the Red Giraffe looming over them.

Desiree continues to swing that umbrella back and forth on her arm, making more and more dramatic arcs. La la la… "Oh, uhm!" She presses her lips into a Very Ponderous Smile, looking at the sign that lists all of the ice cream flavours. "I'll have that coffee one, with the chocolate," she tells the vendor. She's in the process of fishing out a bit of change from a pocket in her dress, just at her thigh, when she hears her name being called out. It takes her a second to respond even so. Oh, that's her. "Hm?" She spins about, nearly hitting the balloon artist with her umbrella. "Oh, 'lena hi darlin'!" she shouts, friendly as ever. "That's a pretty flower you got there."

"One coffee and chocolate scoop, comin' right up," the Ice Cream Guy says, and proceeds to do just that, stuffing the large globs of treat into the wafflecones he's got in his cart. Meanwhile, Elena approaches the Southern woman, smiling over at her choice of coffee and chocolate. That would have her bouncing off the walls for hours…..before crashing terribly, of course. She heads on over to where she is, and glances down at the flower. "Oh….um…..it's so odd that I ran into you today out here because this was for you," Elena says with a laugh, offering the little pot with the white and deep purple flowers towards her. "For….you know. Going out of your way every time to help Papa."

"What the—HEY!" the balloon artist almost gets smacked by the umbrella, and proceeds to take a few -large- steps away from Desiree so he can continue entertaining the little kids without getting kebab'd by it.

Handing over a spot of cash and a beam at the vendor in exchange for delicious, delicious ice cream, Desiree turns away again to step up next to Elena, out of the way - well, as far as everyone but the balloon man is concerned. "Sorry!" she calls out to him with a wince, but her attention is quickly swept up by the young woman. "For me? Aw, 'lenaaa…" she drawls in a higher pitch than usual. Warm hazel eyes soften even more and she brings her palm to her chest, obviously touched. "You didn't have to do that! I was glad to help. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." And you know, the third time /is/ the charm… "Thank you, darlin', is beautiful." Desiree reaches out to shuffle the flower away from Elena and, of course, smell it.

She looks a little embarassed at the heartfelt thanks. Elena after all tended to do this with all her father's friends, the latest was with Benjamin and the carrot cake. "I was thinking of cake, but I didn't know if you were allergic to anything," she confesses to Desiree. "So I went with flowers instead. They're the indoor types, especially for weather like this. And they don't need much taking care of…just some water. I'm glad you like them though!" The scent is very faint, so faint to be nonexistent - but the blossoms certainly won't overpower her room or her house wherever she decides to put it. "And…I know you helped a friend of mine, too. I had breakfast with Peter the other day and he told me what you did. I thought since you've been going out of your way saving other people's souls someone's bound to do something nice for you for a change. How are you doing?"

Desiree holds the plant under her arm, against her hip, not unlike one might hold a baby, although she pays slightly less attention to it than she might an infant. "Oh, yeah, you know him? Hm. How 'bout that. I don't really know the guy, he seems nice; I just barged in and interrupted his Monopoly game. I been wonderin' what happened to that detective. Worryin'." Other than that… "I been okay," she answers vaguely, punctuated with a go at her ice cream. "How're you? 'N' your family?"

"She's……alive," Elena offers, giving Desiree a smile. "Thanks a lot to you. She was also the one assigned to my mother's case actually, until she got shuffled off to a different, more dangerous one. I've never met her, but I'm glad she's okay." For now. She watches Desiree take a go at her ice cream, and she slides her hand in one pocket of her coat now that it's been freed up. "I'm good," she says with a laugh. "Had a bit of a scare a couple of days ago. This hantavirus outbreak suddenly shut down the hospital I was volunteering in, so me and a bunch of people were stuck in the hospital for 12 hours getting tested to make sure we didn't get it. I didn't, obviously, but it was strange - it just suddenly happened, no warning at all. Other than that though, everything's been good but busy. I might be switching jobs, and Papa is out of the hospital….I've been monitoring his blood pressure every night, just in case."

She shifts a litrle awkwardly on her feet. "Actually Ms. Russo…" she says, her tone taking on a more hesitant one. "I wanted to ask you something, about what you said the night we were all running around trying to find Papa before he shot someone."

"Good," Desiree says, re: the detective, then nods her head an repeats it more quietly, more resolutely: "Good." As she listens to Elena's updates with a smile on her face, sincerely interested in the girl's life, she eats her coffee-flavoured ice cream - which means she routinely gets it all over her mouth in intervals. "Oh yeah, I read about that in the newspaper. Y'all were lucky it amounted to squat, by what they're sayin'." When the girl turns the topic of conversation back to her, Desiree's brow furrows; she gives Elena a look of concern for her Serious Face. "Well sure. What is it?"

She blinks at the Serious Face, and then Elena rubs the back of her head. "I don't mean to sound nosy but….when you were telling me about Papa and you were trying to explain to me about your….pictures. You started to say something about why you came to New York in the first place, but then you stopped and just asked me to trust you about it. I did, of course, but it just stuck with me. You mean you're just visiting here in New York?"

"Weeell…" Desiree starts to stroll away from the vendors, heading across the path to where she sees a bench on the other side. Her arms are full, but the way she stands closely behind Elena, just off to left, is meant to mother dog herd the teenager. Apparently, this is a talk that requires sitting down. "I was just visitin', first. When I met you and your daddy. But then, well, then I came back. My home's in Mississippi, but I had to come back here. I think I'm … /s'posed/ to, you know? New York's damn cold," she says casually as she strolls along before flopping onto the bench. "Last thing I thought I'd be doin' is gettin' ice cream, but," she holds up the small cone, "Reminds me a' summer."

She looks around a bit when Desiree loops around her, and shuffles her off to a nearby bench. Elena blinks a bit as she's herded there, but she doesn't seem to mind. She carries the same tupperware under her arm, and the multicolored scarf around her neck blows about enough that it manages to catch onto her mouth. She spits it out quickly, but whenever they do find a place to sit, she does, taking a seat and setting the tupperware thing on her lap. They look to be a variety of cookies. Crossing her legs by the ankles, she listens to Desiree, and then she laughs. "You thought you were s'posed to because of…..the other stuff?" she asks, looking genuinely interested. And when she goes on a tangent about the weather, she smiles. "Probably colder than Mississippi but believe me this is warm for this time of year. I've lived in New York all my life."

She tips her head up to look at the surprisingly blue sky. "Even the birds are coming back early, I think," she says.

There's a saying that if someone sits in Central Park long enough, they'll see the entire city walk by? Well, it might be true. A distance away from the two women, not noticing them at all at first, a former nurse walks near the balloon artist and stops exchanging a few words, smiling faintly, and then passing over some money and watching the artist get to work. Would appear that Peter Petrelli has purchased a balloon art. Question might be what it shall end up being, and why he decided to buy it.

Desiree sets the white and purple orchids Elena gave her between them on the bench carefully. She sits back in the bench, her unused umbrella across her lap. "Yeah…" she adds before tipping her head up to look at the clear blue sky. The grey clouds really broke earlier. It's beautiful. She twirls her ice cream cone thoughtfully about in her hand, quiet for a little span. "It ain't gonna stay that way." As she turns her squinting gaze away from the calm skies, her attention catches on the balloons again. That damn giraffe. Eyeing her from across the park. "Oh, hey, look, ain't that whatshisface?"

"You think so?" Elena asks Desiree, glancing over at her. While she could laugh it off and say that it would probably stay that way for a week, -way- too many things Desiree have said came true for her to really do that. So here she's willing to believe her. "Are you staying in New York longer or are you going back home soon?" she asks. Maybe it's not too late for her to get a cake to her, if she can figure out what she's -not- allergic to. But when Desiree points Peter out, Elena furrows her brows. 'Whatsisface' isn't exactly descriptive, all Hises in the vicinity had faces. So she looks over her shoulder, and her expression brightens when she sees someone by the balloon artist. "…..I wonder what he's doing over there…?" she says absently, but she does lift a hand to wave. "Peter!" she calls out from the bench in greeting.

There's a hint of a jump at someone calling out his name, and Peter glances away from the balloon in progress to see Elena and… that strange woman who borrowed his monopoly money once. Raising a hand, he waves, a genuine smile tugging onto his lips before turning back towards the balloon artist and asking a question. A laugh later and he exchanges even more money when the man passes over his first balloon. Oddly enough, the first one was made using a red balloon… but is a lobster, not a giraffe. A lobster? The man starts to get to work on another one, and he gives the women a universal sign for 'just one minute' when he raises his hand and a finger.

"I'ma stay here 'til…" Wrinkles sneak across Desiree's forehead, lips pursing. "I dunno. I'm stayin' at a Bed and Breakfast now, but I… I might need somethin' more perna-ment." She squints in Peter's direction. "Is that a cow or a crab?" She waves a hand. "Anyway, I been seein' things… things 'bout New York. The whole city and the people in it."

"…..that's….actually what I wanted to ask but I was wondering if ….it was too personal," Elena says. "I mean I know you know my father better than you know me, I didn't want to pry if it was…" She pauses. "Do you mind telling me about it?" she asks. It's a simple, straightforward request. No mamby-pambying about it. "And if you need to look for a new place…" She pauses, and she smiles. "Two of the three bedrooms in our apartment are empty right now. If you really need a place and you don't really have the time to look for one, you can crash with us for a while until you find one. I mean, I owe you for Papa, and I know Papa feels the same way. This isn't the first time we've harbored transplants in New York." She nods to Peter when he lifts a finger for them to wait a moment, and grins when she sees the…what IS that? "…I think it's a crab…" she admits to Desiree.

The man hands over two more completed balloon art pieces, that are rather small, but colorful, made from two balloons. One is yellow with a green center, the other is blue with a purple center. Peter thanks the man, and carries the three balloons over and says, "Hi, Elena. Desiree. I didn't expect to see either of you here." From the way he's juggling the three balloons, he's certainly fidgetting a bit. "Um— here," he holds out the two smaller balloons to them, and it becomes pretty obvious that he had the man make little flower bracelets for them. "Wasn't sure what colors you like, but… here."

"Oh sure, I'll tell ya," Desiree answers with a bob of her head, untroubled by Elena's straightforward question. "I mean, y'all believe me about what's happenin' to me, you and your daddy. I prolly need all the help I can get 'cause I don't know what I'm doin' out here to tell the honest truth." When Peter approaches, she gives him a finger-waggle around her cone. "Hey-o!" the woman greets cheerfully around a bite of ice cream, — even despite the serious conversation she's sparking with Elena. Her face lights up, simultaneous with a quirk of her brows and lips when she realizes what the man's gifts are. "Aww, well, ain't that sweet," she says as she takes the balloon creation and slides it on her wrist. Squeaky-squeak-squeak. She holds out her hand at arm's length in overdramatic admiration. "You're jus' in time." For what?

"Oh sure, I'll tell ya," Desiree answers with a bob of her head, untroubled by Elena's straightforward question. "I mean, y'all believe me about what's happenin' to me, you and your daddy. I prolly need all the help I can get 'cause I don't know what I'm doin' out here to tell the honest truth." Idly watching Peter while he orders the balloons, she gnaws on her lower lip. "Yea? Well, I wouldn't wanna intrude. But you seem like nice folk… and I don't got no real job yet…" Then, when Peter approaches, she gives him a finger-waggle around her cone. "Hey-o!" the woman greets cheerfully around a bite of ice cream — even despite the serious conversation she's sparking with Elena. Her face lights up, simultaneous with a quirk of her brows and lips when she realizes what the man's gifts are. "Aww, well, ain't that sweet," she says as she takes the balloon creation and slides it on her wrist. Squeaky-squeak-squeak. She holds out her hand at arm's length in overdramatic admiration. "You're jus' in time." For what?

When Desiree tells Elena what she does, she nods solemnly. "We do," she says. "I mean…Papa told me you know about him too so….if he has that, and you have what you have, then I don't really have much room to disbelieve." About the apartment arrangements and the current SURPRISE RUSSO she's going to be unleashing at her father, she grins at her. "Oh you won't be intruding, I promise! It's really kind of quiet around the apartment since we moved the other three kids to grandmother's…it'd be nice to have another face around to talk to. So if you want, the floor's open. We'd love to have you come stay with us. It's the least we can do after everything." When Peter comes over, she blinks when the balloon bracelet is given to her. Elena can't help but laugh, taking one and slipping it over her wrist. She also jumps up from the bench to give the younger Petrelli brother a quick hug, squeezing gently.

Still holding onto his lobster doesn't mean Peter doesn't return the hug for as long as it lasts, a mild squeeze as he looks over the girl's shoulder towards the older and slightly strange woman. He doesn't know what they had been discussing before he arrived, but he caught some of it. Moving around, empty rooms. "You're not planning to move out of your father's place, are you?" he asks, having not quite caught that it would be the /other/ kids who are moving out. "I'm glad you like them, but you'll have to tell me your favorite colors sometime." It's spoken mostly to Elena, though as he'd included a woman he met once in on the current gift, it applies to both. There's something said that tugged his attention, though, and draw his eyes to the psychic woman who seemed to see things in… other things. "…Just in time for what?"

"I like purple." For the record. "Okay. Well, it's like this." That'll have to be the only Intro to What the Hell Dezi is Talking About for Peter. The miniature circus that is Elena, Peter, Desiree, the flowers, the balloons, the cookies, the Tupperware, the ice cream, and the umbrella gets even more silly. The woman takes a big bite of her coffee-flavoured dessert before pinching the cone between her bare knees in order to grip her umbrella. It unfurls with a *whump* and *whoosh* in all of its black-and-white poodle-dotted glory, and she leans it against the bench. "This is the world," she reclaims her ice cream and waves it over the umbrella. "This here's New York," she jabs the left part of the umbrella with a pinky finger. "…not… not really," she laughs a bit awkwardly, "I ain't seein' it right /now/ but, I keep seein' it all over the place. Anyway, pretend all these little prissy dogs are people…" Just go with it, folks. It'll be safer.

"Red," Elena says with a laugh. "Black and silver too," she says, giving Peter a smile, stepping back from the warm hug and inching over so Peter can have room to sit. "And no, I'm not….I'm thinking about it but if that ever happens, it won't be for a couple of months," she tells Peter. "But ….ever since everything, Papa moved my younger siblings upstate with my grandmother, so me and my father are the only ones in the apartment. Ms. Russo needs a place to stay, and since we owe her, I just offered to let her stay with us." While the Gomezes were poor, the apartment -was- nice and clean, with hardwood floors and a decent kitchen, rooms and a laundry area. She hopes Desiree won't mind.

She pats on the space next to her on the bench for him to sit. "Ms. Russo's about to tell me what brought her to New York," she says, looking over at Desiree as she launches on her story. And then she uses the umbrella as….a globe. As she talks, she nods. She goes with it. Because that's what her father would've done. That….and she thinks it's really cute actually.

The colors are likely commited to a section of his memory reserved for cute meaningful gifts, and Peter nods at the explaination, "Oh, allright. It was just that you mentioned the possibility the other day…" Of moving out. He could always put a good word in with the landlord, after all. Make sure that she's added to the list with a Petrelli-quality recommendation. Or something. But as the eccentric woman starts her own explaination, he shifts so that he can get a better view of the umbrella, with the little prissy dogs, and nods. Apparently, he's planning to go with it, to see if somehow it makes sense. Must be what he's just in time for, so he might as well enjoy the presentation.

Once she knows Elena and Peter are following her train of thought (because she's normally /somewhat/ aware that her train of thought tends to run on a different track than the norm), Dezi adopts a more matter-of-fact, confident demeanor. She can be confident - she's seen this vision so many times, in so many ways, she knows it has to be real. "So New York's got what, a population of like, a whole sh— …uhm, load of people, right? Well, I only see these certain fluffy poodlies. Only they're not actually… dogs. They're people. Special. Then one by one, more come," she drags a finger from one tiny stylized white poodle over the black umbrella toward 'New York City'. "More and more and more, first it was a few, then a dozen, then dozens and dozens and dozens. From all over the globe, 'til the whole city's full with 'em. Here, and here, and here. All over."

"……" Special people? Special people who aren't dogs. "…wait a minute…" Elena says, catching on, leaning towards the umbrella as if it's got the ANSWERS OF THE UNIVERSE that she has to squint at to get. "So basically you're saying is that New York's going to be a hotbed of some kind?" Well is it hard to believe? It's not really, ever since Papa's run in with the Company people who poisoned him, she'd been encountering more and more people who were 'special.' In fact, those who are Evolved have effectively overtaken those who are 'normal' in her acquaintance by the number. But she reiterates to clarify, looking up over at the woman with the poodle umbrella, and ignoring the stares from ….well, the playing children especially, since she's clustering at Desiree with the poodle umbrella, with a bright balloon bracelet. The only thing that would complete her look today is a giant balloon headdress.

And this? Is actually better than modeling a Female Robin costume JUST IN TIME for Secret Lair customers to walk past Cass's window to SEE the entire thing. That part she left out her story to Peter. The costume was embarassing enough. No need to tell him that fanboys were involved.

The more the woman has to say, the less that Peter looks at her like she's crazy. In fact, he's looking at her as if she makes complete sense! His expression even turns more towards the serious side, as he looks curiously over the umbrella, almost as if he's waiting for the dogs to get up and walk around and show something else. Or not, but he wouldn't think it's crazy at this point if they did. "So they're drawn here… by coincidence or fate… or just a job. But they all seem to be drawn here for one reason or another. And a lot who are here are starting to realize they're… connected to those who show up." He's not seeing anything at this exact second, just trying to piece together what he's seen and experienced. "Right?" he asks, glancing up towards her as if she had all the answers. "Guess you can't tell us why we're all drawn together here, yet, huh?" That would be too conveinant.

Desiree worries at her lower lip with the corner of a front tooth. "I dunno. Maybe. S'what I think," she tells them both, rolling her shoulders up toward her ears tensely. If only she had all the answers. "All I know is… seein' people scattered 'round the city's all well and good. If it ended there that'd be jus' fine by me, even with no answers! Hi, here's all these people that's special, that's great, go make frien's, bye! But it don't ever stop there. Stops here." Swiftly, Desiree flicks the mechanism on the umbrella's handle: it snaps shut harshly, and all of New York City goes with it. "It's like one giant hand or burst of wind just wipes 'em all out. So that's why I'm here. To find out why. And preven' it from happenin'."

"….like…….a tornado?" Elena postulates. She could feel her hand clenching into her lap, a serious expression on her face. But Desiree can probably tell from her expression that this isn't the first time she's heard this. "….when did you see this?" she asks Desiree softly. "Do you remember?" Because timing could be everything. If Desiree had this months back, before she was even aware of everything else, then it's certainly not something that should be a surprise to her. But if she had this -relatively- recently? Then their efforts so far haven't prevented it. Meaning Peter breaking out hasn't stopped this at all! …..well. Not yet. "Do….you know how…?" she asks. She doubts it, it would be too easy. It was hard for her to believe all this was in a painting some dead guy painted. But Desiree? Who has a proven track record of preventing disasters? Desiree she can believe. "Ms. Russo to be honest this isn't the first time I heard this…" She looks down at her lap. "Actually I was still hoping until a couple of moments ago that it was a fluke."

There's a hint of a jump, or a flinch, when she closes the umbrella suddenly, and Peter straightens a bit, glancing off to the side while his expression grows serious. Again. Might look odd. A very serious looking man clutching a red lobster balloon animal to his side. Not tight enough to break it, at the very least. "Told you it wasn't a fluke," he says softly, giving the young woman a glance, but not sounding upset. If anything he sounds rather softened, tired, as if he'd hoped… "Did you see any… way to stop— that— from happening?" Elena covered all his other questions, so that's the big one for him.

"A tornado?!" Desiree blurts out in surprise. She blinks several times, chewing on her lip again. "Where'd you hear that? Hell, I dunno. I started seein' these pictures back in… February, end of February," she says, nodding decisively when she's sure. "I kept seein' 'em, over and over. They wouldn't leave me alone when I went back to Biloxi! But now I'm here, I'm /still/ seein' 'em. In the wallpaper, in my goddamn lunch, at Grand Central Station. I jus' wish I could make 'em clearer. I don't know how to stop it. Not yet anyway. I just gotta … 'go with the flow'." This drama is interrupted by a hearty bite of messy, melting ice cream.

"Well…" Elena pauses. "…the funny thing is, you see things in different things, right? There was this guy that Peter knew…" Past tense. "…who can…-paint- his visions. And in one of his paintings, it showed a tornado destroying New York. So when you said it was like one giant wind…" Well, in this world, clearly, -two- instances from two different sources, one alive, and one dead, can't be a coincidence. She looks over at Peter, who has his serious face on, and then at Desiree. But if Desiree keeps seeing it.. "Maybe you really are meant to be here, Ms. Russo," she says. "Maybe it's to help the ones trying to stop it." Because they could certainly USE a living psychic right about now. Now harboring Desiree in her home doesn't seem like such a bad idea. In fact this might be the best idea she's had in months. "I mean, if the visions won't leave you alone…" She looks at Peter again. Hey. She's new at this Saving the City business. It's Peter who's the veteran.

"Right, he could paint or draw visions of the future," Peter nods in confirmation of the girl's words, sticking with the past tense. Further nods also follow, adding to what she has to say. "You probably are meant to be here. You've already helped me once already, with Mara— Detective Damaris, the woman in the hospital when we met." The optimistic side of him wants to believe very much that she helped save the detective, and that there's nothing to worry about with her anymore. Or at least not as much. He hopes. "Could probably help us with this, too. We don't know what causes the tornado, we just know it will happen, if we don't do anything to stop it. We just need to figure out how… Going with the flow probably won't cut it," he admits softly, glancing up towards the cloudless sky for a moment. Then he lets out a sigh, "Looks like I need to buy some painting supplies…"

Desiree listens with rapt interest when the others speak about the man who could paint the future, hanging on their every word. Her eyes are wide, glittering, and she's forgotten about her ice cream. The sloping scoop that's left dribbles over her thumb, but she doesn't seem to notice. "He could… he could paint the future? W-what happened to him?" The woman steels herself for a moment, chewing on the inside of her mouth, squaring her shoulders. "When I met Ramon, he said, 'Maybe it's somethin' God wants you to do.' 'Course he didn't know what I was ramblin' on about at the time and we was at church but… I jus' know, like y'all said. 'Lena's daddy got helped, and that detective, so we can change things. Sometimes I try to make myself see but it don't usually work real well. It jus' happens when it happens." Pause. "Wait, how come…" Painting supplies? She squints at Peter.

She pauses, and Elena looks at Desiree. "That's…..another reason why I wanted to visit you today, I ventured out to track you down not just to give you a token of my gratitude for everything you've done for Papa and Peter's friend," she says, looking down at the orchids. "….see, Papa has a habit of collapsing if he pushes himself too much with what he can do," she explains to Desiree. "So ever since then, I've been helping those I know who are…special….try and control their abilities. Or at the very least figure out how they work. Papa suggested that maybe I could ask to see if you were interested. I don't know how far….I mean, I'm just a kid, but someone who's helping me actually went to school for this, just like I am now. So if you want, if you decide to live with us for a while….I can help you work on it." But when Desiree asks about what happened to Isaac, she swallows. "….he was killed," she says. "Several months ago. By someone dangerous."

"I do think there's a… reason all of us can do what we do— and that we can use what we can do to help people, if not help everyone…" Saving the world. That sort of thing, right? Peter's got experience with that— though his point of view of his contribution last year remains different from what everyone else seems to wish to think. "He was killed, yeah… by the same man who was after Detective Damaris," he explains softly, glancing back down to briefly look towards his hand. A habit he hasn't gotten over doing after the last few days, and one that may take a while to stop doing. "Need painting supplies cause pencils aren't working quite as well…" There's a pause, before he explains in the same lowered tone, "I can— sort of do what the people I meet do, the special ones? Difficult to explain, really, but— painted the future once with him, months ago. And I managed to draw it later too. Not well, but…" His hand raises up to touch his forehead, running along the upper edge of his eyebrow. "Maybe I need to try actual paints. Closer to what he did— what I saw him do."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I get headaches when I try to hard, mostly I just get… real confused like," Desiree says quietly to Elena. Thinking on what Peter is saying, and seeming to agree by the way she nods here and there, she reaches behind her head to toy with her lengthy ponytail of dark hair; of course, this is with the hand that has balloon jewellery looped around its wrist, and it squeaks and makes the loose curls around her face statically fuzzed. "… Sylar." A furrowed brow, and then: "That's amazing. What you can do, an' what the painter could do. I'd like to see art like that."

"Peter, you mean…" Elena says, looking at him and surprised etched in her features. She knew that Peter had multiple abilities, but she didn't know he absorbed this one from Isaac Mendez. It seemed very touch and go with him for a while there. But when Peter says what he does, about getting painting supplies, she nods. "I'll help," she promises, and she also sets the tupperware carefully on the young Petrelli's lap. It's full of cookies, of all kinds - peanut butter, chocolate chip, toffee, oatmeal raisin….all to put in his little owl cookie jar she loved so much. But that won't be apparent until he opens it after he takes it home.

"If you're going to be sticking around at Elena's, I can call over when I'm trying to paint and maybe you can watch?" Peter says, giving the woman a hint of a smile, though otherwise remaining serious. "Can't promise it'll work, but it'd be worth it to try, if we get anything useful." It's said to both her and Elena, honestly, because he wouldn't call over just to invite one of them. The tupperwear is accepted with a smile, as he can guess what might be inside. "Thank you. When do you think you'd have time to help with that? I don't want to interupt your day." Not when she actually has a job and classes!

"Okay, uh huh," Desiree answers, sincerely very curious and hopeful. "We'll figure it all out, I know it." She's an optimist. All three of them are, aren't they? "And thanks for that offer, 'lena. I mean it." Both offers, really: a place to stay (little does Ramon know…) and possible help with her visions.

"It's the least we can do, Ms. Russo," Elena says sincerely with a serious look on her face. "I mean…you saved my father's life. And his soul." Stories she'll have to tell Peter later. "The least I can offer you right now is a place to stay and a chance to…help you with your abilities. Not to mention if you keep having them, and they're not leaving you alone….I honestly think you're one of the ones. I mean, how many people have you saved already since coming here?" She had no illusions of having some giant role to play, that fell on Peter, Hiro, and everyone else who -wasn't- her. She's content to do the little things. To what Peter says, she smiles as she looks over at him. "It's the weekend," she tells him. "I set aside this day to track down Ms. Russo and give him her orchids." She nods to the potted plant sitting between her and Desiree. "But since we found each other, I can help you get paint while we're out here."

"If you think your father wouldn't mind, we could always leave the painting supplies at your apartment, too. I could do most of it there," Peter says, standing up again and looking thoughtful as he glances towards the orchids. "Or I can just make some room in mine. Take out the desk, or something…" Despite some things his brother might say, his apartment isn't that big, and tends to be quite cluttered with things. The type to never throw anything away, this one. With the lobster and the tupperwear in hand, he's not going to have a lot of room to carry much. They're going to need bags. If he'd known that he was getting cookies, he would have brought his carrier bag with him. Alas… "We could meet up later today, after I drop these off at home?" He asks, looking down at his burden. He'd hate to break the lobster or lose the home-made cookies before he has a chance to enjoy them.

Desiree is busy, and thus momentarily quiet, with finishing off most of her ice cream and wiping her hands off on its napkin. "Oh!" She deftly swipes ice cream off of her lower lip. "I think I'll make cupcakes." She scoops up the potted plant in one arm as she pops the remainder of her waffle cone into her mouth. "Does your daddy like cupcakes, 'lena?"

"I don't think Papa will mind," Elena says. "He knows about the tornado. And the viral outbreak." She looks over at Desiree. "I already got yelled at for keeping some stuff from him," she says with a bit of sheepish laughter. No need for Peter to know it was over her coming in with the Anti-Hero squad to try and break Peter out. Ooopsie. "We don't have a lot of space, but we don't have a lot of furniture either. So if all you need is an easel and space to move around, we have that in the living room. So long as we clean up after, it should be okay. And that sounds good, we can meet up later. I'll bring the grocery cart." The portable fold-up things that really help when you're in a commuter city like New York. As for Desiree, she smiles. "Papa eats -everything- and -anything-. He does love sweet stuff," she tells Desiree. "Do you need help taking your stuff to our place?"

"I'll head to the house and drop this off," Peter gestures with the lobster, hinting that it's not for /him/. "I got it for my nephews. Asked him what's the weirdest animal he could make, and he decided it would be a lobster." The dotting uncle is smiling faintly at the idea of giving his young nephews a balloon lobster. He seems to think it's funny, especially with all the possible dangers waiting to decend upon them, "Then go to my apartment and give you a call." At that reminder, he gives a sudden 'oh yeah' expression, and adds, "I got another cellphone. It's the same number as before." Just another new cellphone.

Desiree smiles widely. "Oh, no. I don't got much stuuuff… uhm, shouldn't you maybe run this by Ramon…? Is' all kinda sudden, movin' a person in, even temporarily," she notes, rolling a shoulder up unsurely - but it's short-lived as she clucks her tongue (not at all in a scolding manner, however; quite the opposite) and 'awws' softly under her breath at Peter, even jutting out a lower lip. "That's real sweet of you to do for 'em." Pause. Squint. "Ohhhhh, it's a /loooobster/."

"Oh, yeah, I'll give him a call," Elena says with a smile…..a call that she will forget for the sake of comedy. Besides, it won't be hard to. She and Peter have an errand to run later after all, grabbing paint and moving them into the apartment. With luck, they'll run into Desiree in the middle of it and all of them can traipse over to the apartment. "Say we meet up at my place in….." And she names a reasonable hour. "Gives enough time for Peter to go home, for you to go to your Bed and Breakfast to get your stuff, and me to prepare one of the bedrooms for you and help Peter get paint," she tells Desiree. To what Peter says, she nods. "Sounds good," she says with a hint of a smile, which grows wider when he mentions the lobster is for his nephew. Awwwwwwww.

"That works," Peter says, holding the tupper wear close and waving with his lobster holding hand, "Yeah, lobster. See, here's the claws, and the tail…" After showing off the little lobster parts, he nods his head towards both the ladies one last time, and says, "I'll see the two of you later," before he starts to walk towards the place where he can flag down a cab. Sure, he could travel faster on his own, but really, flying with a balloon lobster would be asking for it to get popped. Even if he somehow failed to be spotted.

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