2009-11-13: I Voted For The Other Guy



Date: November 13th, 2009


When Nathan is hounded by the media at the local IHOP…. a certain mechanic is there to beat them away and offer an ear for his concerns.

"I Voted For The Other Guy"

An IHOP somewhere

After flying in from DC the conventional way with George and Hallis, Brayden (or Nathan as the case may be?) found himself craving waffles once again dressed in his black suit, white dress shirt, and sapphire tie (and still quite uncomfortable in the foreign-feeling clothes). So he departed from the pair to track down something familiar, in this case the local IHOP. Of course, without George around, Nathan hasn't had much success avoiding the media. Several photographers follow him into the IHOP, snapping photos of the recently resurrected Nathan Petrelli. With a strained smile Brayden shakes his head, and waves a dismissive hand, "Please. As I commented to the press earlier this morning, I'm trying to collect my life and remember. Please just leave me some space to be able to do that." There are several more flashes of cameras, effectively blinding Nathan.

"Hey.. assholes. Listen to the poor guy. Jesus." The somewhat crass words come from the bar, where a woman sits with grand slam breakfast just being delivered. "How about I come to where you are and shoves a damn camera in your face. Mmm.. Maybe me and some of my buddies down at the biker bar should think about that gig." Charity eyes one of the bigger photographers as if she could easily take him on.

Dressed in rather worn out pair of jeans, a wife beater white tank, a shop shirt over that and unbuttoned, a pair of heeled biker boots close out the image. Her hair is tucked under a Harley-Davidson ballcap, which is currently turned backwards on her head. Turning her barstool where she can look at the people in disgust, she rests one booted foot on edge of the stool. She offers object of all the camera's attention a crooked smirk. "Have a seat, they will be out soon enough… I can see the manager calling the cops, press or not." She then turns back to her food, reaching for the salt and pepper.

A smile of relief is shot to Charity as Brayden actually walks into the IHOP and up to the bar to take a seat next to her. He smirks before he glances back at them, "Thanks for that. You'd think there'd be more important news somewhere. Like a celebrity getting out of a car without underwear…" He offers Charity a charming smile while loosening his tie, muttering, "Like being choked all day…" Sure enough the photographers lose interest after a few minutes, especially as they're pointedly ignored by the Senator.

Shortly after the press leave, the waitress turns to face Brayden, "What can I get you sugar?"

"Coffee. And waffles. And bacon," Brayden grins. Immediately the waitress pulls out a mug and pours coffee for him then she wanders off.

He faces Charity after sipping at his coffee, "So you used to talking to the press or something? I don't know how to deal with them…"

Charity watches him with an amused look as he loosen the tie and settles in. "Never anything more important then filling peoples insane need to see into the lives of the rich and famous. Course… me personally. I could really do without knowing that Britney Spears doesn't wear underwear." She rolls her eyes and works on a few bites of her own breakfast. "Or senators that suddenly pop up after being thought dead."

Sliding her coffee close to her, Charity blows on it before taking a sip. The question has her glancing over her shoulder. "Nah… Just not scared of them… they sicken me really. Stick their nose into peoples private lives looking for that almighty dollar." The mug is set down and the hand offered to him with a big grin. "Names Charity. And I say just go ahead and take that damn tie off.. I always thought guys look better without a representation of a noose around their damn necks."

"Ah, so you know who I am," Brayden half-smiles before muttering, "At least one of us does." He sighs before sipping his coffee again. "You know, I can't remember this whole senator thing at all. Frankly I'd rather be in my plaid shirt, brown leather jacket, faded jeans, and hiking boots," the tone is ironic in nature. He virtually beams as he loses the tie, stuffing it in his jacket pocket, "I only put the monkey suit on because I thought it might help me remember something."

He shakes her hand firmly, "Apparently I'm Nathan Petrelli, but I don't exactly respond to the name Nathan. Call me Brayden if you want me to respond. Thanks for the help, Charity."

"Born and raised in New Jersey..Been in New York for a few years now… and I do vote." Charity comments lightly with a grin, " Course.. I tended to vote for the other guy…Besides," She leans away from him and picks up a near by paper a customer left behind and drops it between them, the Senetor's face plastered on the front. "The news is out."

Fork snatches up again, she glances at him and gives a little nod. "Brayden it is then, and by the sound of it, you sound like you'd fit more in my world then…" She motions to the suit he's wearing as if disgusted with his choice of fashion. "I bet you'd look good in more relaxed attire and your welcome."

"Yeah, I basically lived in my leather jacket and faded blue jeans until now," Brayden glances down at his attire while wrinkling his nose. "Man, they sure get word out fast," he glowers peering over at someone's paper. "Terrible picture too."

He chuckles at the notion for voting for the other guy, "I think I would too. I look like a tool. But don't tell anyone, if I get my memory back, the press would be all over that comment." His waffles are placed in front of him, causing his smile to broaden. "Spent the last year and a half trekking around Europe and then in a Buddhist monastery in California. Can't say politics has really been on the radar —"

"It is a terrible picture." Charity offers without hesitation, glancing down at the paper. "You look kinda shocked and confused. Not a good look on a politician." She grins at him and offers a wink. "And no worries, handsome. I have no intention of talking to anyone about what you said. So relax… knowing at least one person isn't out to make a quick buck off your rare private moments."

Dark eyes study the man thoughtfully as he talks, but eventually she huhs softly. "Europe sounds pretty damn nice. Been to Germany myself, but it was kinda a business trip… so didn't get to see much. But I did wish I had my Harley, with all the beautiful scenery what I saw of it. Would have been fun to just get on my bike and go." There is an edge of sadness in her tone, and she turns back to her food. "So, Brayden. You back in new York to see your family and stuff?" Of course, the story covered that.

As Charity talks, Brayden drenches his waffles in syrup. His eyes light up as Charity mentions Germany and the bike. "I motorcycled the German countryside, and the Irish countryside, and most of the Netherlands. It's breath-taking. I guarantee you won't see anything like it anywhere else. You should go on holiday sometime." He shovels a piece of waffle into his mouth as his eyes close, fully taking in the sweetness of the syrup, "Mmmm."

"Well I am in New York to try to remember. I was on my way here before I got recognized because it seemed familiar." He smirks, "Talked to several members of my family yesterday. Apparently I'm married, but if I was my wife, I would've moved on. It's been a year and a half." Brayden moved on… twice. "And have children. But they live in Florida. They're supposed to fly into New York in the next while to reconnect."

"You should stop putting it off and find a way to do it. Life's too short. I mean you could wake up one day and forget who you are," Brayden punctuates the words with a shrug and dimpled smirk. "Yeah, everyone thought I was dead. And she was a bit cold on the phone. Not sure why. I might have been a jerk to her. The thing is, I can't remember."

And then he adds as a kind of afterthought, "And I never thought of myself as the marrying kind. Not sure if Nathan was so different, but I like freedom. I like to do what I want when I want. A woman wife wouldn't like that." He shrugs again.

Turning the seat of her stool so that she is facing him, she leans an elbow on the bar top. Charity leans a bit closer, her voice dropping. "I bet money that means there is a part of the true you that wants to be free. To be your own man. This…" She motions to the suit wearing man. "… gig is one of the most… restricting ones I thing. Not to mention if you go by with what the Media and Hollywood say, politicians don't always marry for love. They marry to get ahead in the game." She wrinkles her nose. "Not my gig for sure. I'm the type that loves my freedom as well. There are times I just want to hop on my Harley and just ride."

"Probably. I loved being able to take off and just live. Nothing to keep me tied," Brayden finishes the last bite of his waffle, smearing it around the plate to soak up as much syrup as possible. "Well, maybe the wife's skeptical too. I mean, I look like her husband, I sound like her husband, but I don't remember anything about them. My family, I mean."

He sighs, "But I have to try to remember. I don't know who Nathan was. Or if he liked waffles. Or riding. Or excessively beautiful women." He smirks at this one. "But maybe I can remember and keep these things?"

Charity can't help but chuckle at the compliment, picking up her mug to finish off her coffee. "Might want to look into glasses there, cutie." Even so, the ballcap is pulled off her head and dropped on the counter, letting her dark hair fall over her shoulders. Combing some behind her ear, she slowly shakes her head. "Maybe you will, would be sad to be forgot and especially if you got to see something so amazing as Europe from the seat of a bike, I'd hate to lose them too."

She waves down the waitress, "Can I get my check?" She leans back on her stool and stretches. "You'll remember." Charity states with confidence.

"I got it," Brayden says as he takes the check from the waitress. "It's the least I can do after you batted the vultures away." He grins as he reaches into his jacket and extracts… his tie. Shaking his head, he reaches further into his pocket and takes out a very worn leather wallet."

"Thanks for the chat, Charity. We should go riding sometime. I bet there's got to be some countryside somewhere around this damn city." He smirks again.

"Thanks, handsome. Might win me over for your next election, yet." Charity teases, before forestalling the waitress. "Can I borrow a pen?" Taking the one offered, she grabs an unused napkin and scrawls down her name, a phone number and an email address. This she slides over to him. "You'll have to see how things are with your wife first, us women.. we are nasty creatures when jealous."

A fingernail devoid of polish taps the napkin. "I'm a mechanic by trade. Business… is kind of off right now, my life is kinda in the air at the moment… but if you ever need a mechanic, or if you want me to build you a bike… Call me." She then slides off her stool, picking up her hat, as she does. Leaning down she adds in a whisper. "And if your memory returns and things don't look like they will work with you wife… look me up. I'll make sure you remember what it's like to be free and trust me, I know all the best riding spots." She gives him a wink, before straightening. "Or you know… you need a friendly ear to listen."

Stepping back, Charity flashes him a smile, "Was a pleasure to meet you Brayden. Hopefully, it won't be the last time we get to chat."

Cha-ching! He got the gal's number. Yes, he is THE MAN! Pocketing the napkin, Brayden offers Charity a charming smile followed by a wink, "I'm sure it won't. I'll see to it. For one thing… or another." Eyebrow raise.

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