2007-09-11: New York State Of Mind


Jane_icon.gif Nathan_icon.gif

Summary: A musician/lawyer and a Senatorial candidate discuss music.

Date It Happened: September 11th, 2007

New York State Of Mind

Nathan Petrelli's HQ, Times Square, Manhattan, NYC

Over the past couple of months, the city has been littered (legitimately and not so much legitimately alike) with red, white and blue paper campaign advertisements, some reading Petrelli, some Crane, in the forms of postures, fliers - you name it. Most concentrated in this particular part of town is Nathan's campaign headquarters, which is now picking up activity in this earlier hour of the day. Ideally, Nathan would like to be the first one to arrive and the last to leave - but not always so, much like today, as he moves quickly towards the building and pushing through the glass doors, into the open, main office. He mutters a 'good morning' to those that greet him, passing off his briefcase to some junior staffmember to put away for him.

Heeled boots are on the pavement of Times Square, the sound they make that caused by a woman's style and stride. She isn't dressed in the sort of lawyer gear she wore when she made that visit to the mansion and met with him about a certain unsuccessful raid she doesn't remember, but Jane is dressed in a semi-professional fashion. Her blouse is a white button front, the pants black and dressy, her boots are shiny with a two inch heel. There's no guitar case over her shoulder, nor is there a backpack, another oddity for her. It's a briefcase she carries as one hand pushes through the glass doors a few minutes behind the candidate.

Inside, she heads toward the most senior staffer in sight, unaware of Nathan's presence in the building. "Morning," she begins. "I secured some more permissions for the campaign to use well known tunes." Maybe they've been used, maybe they haven't, but she once spoke with him about such things and on occasion they've been provided.

A coffee is placed into one hand, and a print-out of a fax is given to the other, as Nathan moves through the office space. By now, the chaos is mostly harmonic - people know by now when to approach him with what, and how he likes his coffee, which is generally as black as it can get. And though Nathan sometimes doesn't always remember every name of every employee (especially the graduates) in his staff, he does notice when someone isn't here - or when someone new is.

He turns his head and halts his trip towards the office, instead veering towards the musician-lawyer, passing off the sheath of paper he was given to someone and cradling the coffee in both hands as he approaches just in her blind spot, glancing her over with some curiousity before she can notice him. He hears the tail end of what she's saying, and by way of announcement of his presence, Nathan says, "We didn't happen to score 'New York State of Mind', did we? That would make today slightly brighter."

The voice is unexpected, even though it's his headquarters Jane hadn't expected to actually encounter him here. The candidate is busy, at least in her mind, being out and about making appearances in support of a statewide campaign. To her it's natural he'd be gone more often than here. She, ready to set the briefcase on a surface so she can open it and extract documents, stops and turns. "Doctor Petrelli," she greets with a warm smile of respect, "It's good to see you again." She's herself, still making with that quirky way of addressing attorneys for the doctorates they hold, and professional in these surroundings. No use of the name Nathan to make people wonder at the familiarity. "And yes, we did."

Pleasant surprise! Nathan raises his eyebrows at the news, a slight smile turning up the corner of his mouth. "Good work," he states, and sips his coffee. "Maybe now we can replace that… the current ad still playing on the radio even if I did ask for that to be replaced sometime last week?" This is now directed towards the senior staffmember, whose eyes go like O_O. Nathan is, of course, referring to the 'seriously fly' soundbite. "Well if that could happen before Leno or someone decides to make a parody, that would be grand." And to Jane, "Would you like a coffee, Ms. Forrest?"

Please do, Jane inwardly agrees, on the mention of replacing that ad he wants replaced earlier than yesterday. Pleasepleaseplease do. It may even show on her face, that desire, but she won't verbalize it. Really not necessary, what with him ordering it banished. Part of the lyrics to the song Nathan hoped for and she had arranged start playing in her head, the bit about taking a greyhound on the Hudson River line, to chase away that other thing. "Yes, I would like coffee. Thank you kindly."

Nathan glances towards the staffmember again. "You can either get Ms. Forrest a coffee, or get someone else to do it on the way towards doing my bidding." Fly, my pretty. Either way, the younger man mumbles, asking Jane for how she'd like her coffee, before quickly moving off to make someone more junior do it for him so that he can make a few important phonecalls. That done, Nathan sips again from his beverage, moving to walk, though the way he continues to talk to Jane implies that he expects her to follow. Much to be done, walk and talk! "If you're interested, your musical talents and taste in music would be greatly appreciated beyond just securing permissions." They seem to see eye-to-eye on the golden oldies, after all - except in matters of glam, but that is neither here nor there.

"Cream and sugar," she replies to the subject of how she enjoys coffee. And Jane's on the move behind him. "What have you in mind, sir?" she asks in reply to the topic raised. The briefcase containing documents comes with her, still held in hand. The expression she displays shows interest.

"Well, I was serious about replacing that ad," Nathan says over his shoulder. Admittedly, he probably thought it was acceptable at the time - until others told him otherwise, and he listened to it again, and subsequently applied palm to face. "Maybe you could offer your assistance in arranging a new one with some of the songs you've attained for us. You know this world relatively, better than the next artist, and you know music. Seems like a working combination to me. Hold on a sec." He pauses by a desk, gaining the attention of the woman seated here, and mutters a few things to her - something about a meeting, an agreement - Thursday, afternoon. She simply nods and draws something up onto her computer screen, and Nathan starts towards his own office, with Jane hopefully still tailing. "Interested?"

"I am," she answers smoothly and confidently. "New York State Of Mind works well," Jane opines, "and I believe you're already thinking along those lines. The imagery in it, of New York geography and enjoyment of the state above all others. About having been high in the Rockies under the evergreens. And some paraphrasing to match the purpose. A minor change, like…" she trails off to think for a moment, "the original lyric says I know what I'm needing, and I don't want to waste more time, I'm in a New York state of mind. Make that we. You know what we're needing, and we don't need to waste more time."

For the most part, Nathan tunes out, simply nodding in agreement with her - but he does take notice of that amendment, glancing back at her. "…yes," he agrees, after a moment of thinking. "That. That's good. Grab John," evidently the man they had just been talking to, who is probably actually named Patrick, "and he'll give you the contact details of who you need to speak to to get the ball rolling with it." Because hell no is Nathan aware of how the smaller wheels turn in this machine - or he does, and he's more willing to get people to do their jobs. Another employee - jesus god, where do they all come from?! - seems to dart out of a corner to inform Nathan that "the car is ready, sir" and Nathan curses, handing her the half finished mug of coffee and the instruction to go get his jacket from his office. "Sorry, Jane, you caught me at a— well it's always a busy time," he says, but he actually stops walking and looks at her for the next few moments. "Is there anything else you wanted?"

"Actually, sir," Jane replies, setting her briefcase on something to open it and extract a document which she hands to Nathan along with a pen, "there's this." It's the legal paperwork on using New York State Of Mind for him to sign, since it likely involves spending money and needs formal approval. She can arrange things, hammer out details on behalf of the campaign, but nothing goes into effect without being ratified and approved. There are a few others he may choose to use or not which will be given to the functionary when they talk, but this one is produced for signature. She takes the coffee and seems to understand he needs to dash. Busybusy campaign, and given what today is he has a morning appearance to make in Lower Manhattan.

"I may see you there, in fact," she somberly informs him. "I need to run home and change into a formal dress for it."

"Right." Nathan takes the pen and the document, efficiently scanning the information before signing his name in a flurry at the space indicated, handing it back to her just as the employee jogs back over with his suit jacket - also known cynically as his 'armor' among the usual suit jacket-retrieving junior staff members. This is slipped on, and Nathan smiles ruefully at Jane, then glances at his watch. "If I wasn't stopping home to collect the wife and kids, I'd offer you a ride," he says. "So we'll talk later." With that, he makes for the exit, then pauses as if seeming to realise that this is slightly rude, so he pauses, and offers, "And welcome to the team." There's more than a trace of 'you'll regret it tomorrow!' beneath the words.

"Thank you, sir," Jane replies quietly. She puts the document away and closes the briefcase, keeping it for transfer to John, or Patrick, or whatever his name might be. Nothing further is said, time is short and she won't delay him longer. From there departs to become suitably dressed for the 9/11 remembrances at the reconstruction site and attends them, among the gathered masses.

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