2008-01-21: The Cookie Jar


Charlotte_icon.gif Logan_icon.gif

Summary: Logan finds someone familiar snooping around his office for entirely innocent reasons.

Date It Happened: January 21st, 2008

The Cookie Jar

Pinehearst Research

The Pinehearst facility is in it's twilight for the day. Only a few windows are lit, only a few people move around. But this is the time, away from all the 'honest' employees, that dasterdly deeds may be done. Secret meetings may be arranged. Anything is possible here, and now.

Like losing your fricking ID badge! Charlotte's power does not allow her teleport back to things that she lost. Just people and places. Not THINGS. Not the fricking ID badge! She was in a ton of places today - including one other country, so we'll see how this goes. She was in and out of big important offices with big important papers, trading files and discussing potential employees. She's in one such office, the sort of office that she could get fired for being in after hours. Having teleported in, she's checking in the potted plant, behind the trash, anywhere. Fricking badge!

Footsteps approach, the sound of someone's voice. A one-sided conversation, so either, someone who is insane and talking to thin air, or someone who is on the phone. Considering it's Logan, this could be either, but as it happens, he has a phone in his hand and pressed to his ear. "Listen, I'm going to be late, I just flew in from Washington— okay, thank you, I appreciate that. How's she doing? Yes, that's right, her name is Baker, she's looking after the kids while— okay, great. If she comes to, tell her I'll be there… hold on."

And that's about when the heir of Pinehearst (as he likes to think) steps into the doorway, phone now held away from his mouth and pressed to muffle it against his shoulder, peering into the office expectantly— and pausing when whoever he was looking for doesn't appear to be there… but someone else is. "Excuse me."

Perhaps he saw something, but perhaps he didn't. The truth is that with the phone conversation approaching, Charlotte Corday had ben on her knees beside the desk, peering under it. ID badges can bounce, after all, perhaps it bounced under - voices what? Not even thinking, the girl quickly pulls herself under the desk, where one might usually put their legs were they seated there. Of course, in order to curl up small enough to be under there, she's pressed against the desk. Meaning that when the idea to teleport reaches her brain, she can't do it. Lest she takes the desk with her. The woman closes her eyes and pulls her knees up close, trying not to make a sound. Don't fire her!

What Charlotte will hear is… nothing. Perhaps whoever almost discovered her had disappeared down the hallway quietly, although the lack of footsteps really does sort of negate this theory. Then, the door clicks shut, and there's the sound of foot steps. His phonecall continues within the room. "When're they shutting the doors? They can make an exception, can't they? Okay. Thanks. I'll talk to you later." Another click, this time the sound of a fold-out cellphone snapping shut. His voice goes from wearily amicable to something more severe, harsh and almost parental. "Whoever's in here will want to show themselves now before I call security."

As the Senator continues his phonecall, Charlotte manages to glimpse a look at her ID card…it bounced under the desk when she was picking up some files earlier that day. She wrinkles her nose angrily at the little plastic thing as she picks it up. But then his voice comes again, this time at her. Charlotte hasn't seen her father in years, but suddenly she's ten years old and he's not a crack addict, and he's yelling at her for doing something dumb. And boy does this feel dumb. Slowly there's some shuffling, and then her cute little face, dimpled smile included, though nervous it may be, rise up over the desk. "Good evening Senator Petrelli." Oh dear.

A naturally paranoid entity, Logan tenses a little when, indeed, there does appear to be someone in the room. Then, when it happens to be someone utterly harmless and not entirely unfamiliar, he relaxes once more, a look of irritation drawing a line between his eyebrows. He's dressed in formal business attire, although his tie is abandoned and the collar of his shirt opened. A pin of the American flag, smaller than a penny, rests on his lapel, and he slips his cellphone into his pocket. That hand then moves, extending his index finger to point into the top corner of the room. "This place is nothing if not wired with surveillance," he says, some of the harshness having drained from his tone, but still firm. "Whatever you were looking for, or stealing, it had better be worth it, honey."

Honey? Crazy New Yorkers. Charlotte doesn't answer, but slowly lifts one hand. Between her fingers is her ID badge, and sure enough it is her own smiling face looking up at him from the plastic confines. "I….must have dropped it when I was in here picking up files this morning." She confesses, a flush of red reaching her cheeks. Slowly she stands, tugging her shirt down and dusting off her pants. She's an adult, really. She was just hiding under a desk, that's all.

Wait, no nefarious deeds? She was looking for her ID card? Logan's eyebrows raise a little in cynical disbelief, but he's not about to interrogate her. He can always check footage later if it's that important, and his hands come to rest his in jacket pockets. Certainly, he seems to have recovered well from his injuries and subsequent coma, seemingly about as healthy as someone who hadn't got a scratch on them at all in the past month. He studies her for a moment in silence, before his chin lifts to her a little. "You look familiar."

Charlotte appears to still be in the mode of a child who has been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, even if that cookie jar did turn out to simply be filled with celery sticks. "Yes, Senator, we never actually met but I was a part of the rescue team." She pauses, doe-brown eyes glancing up at him, as if to nudge him towards the memory. "In the warehouse." Crazy english doctor, needles, guns, exploding bowels…..something's gotta ring a bell sooner or later. "My name is Charlotte Corday." AKA the room-mate of your date last night! Coincidences indeed!

The nudge is more than enough, Logan's eyes hooding a little in recognition. A fleeting image in the midst of sublime pain, Nathan reaching towards her to be helped, and then— more sublime pain, really. That's when everything gets a little hazy for the pair of them. When she puts a name to face and purpose, Logan's head tilts a little. "I didn't know you were Niki's roommate," he says, easily recognising the connection. How else did he get Niki's address if not through Pinehearst records? "It seems I owe you several favours, then. For rescuing me, and looking after Niki."

Charlotte blushes a little deeper, her nervous smile becoming a natural one, dimples deepening. She glances down, clipping her badge back to her blouse pocket. "Oh, I was happy to do it, sir. On both accounts. Niki's a pure angel, I think I'm more selfish for wanting her around than anything else. As to the other…it was nice to be able to help, more useful than taking vacations all over the globe. Besides, it's sort of my thing. I find people. I'm just happy to see you up and about. Seemes you've managed to heal over quite well, sir."

"Fortunate circumstances allowed me a speedy recovery," Logan says, saying much without saying anything at all, really. And now, he finally smiles at her, a formal and polite smile. "Find people, huh? Is that how you figured out where Niki and I were? Your ability?" Because, you know, it could just be teleportation, so he asks - along with moving towards his desk, where a folder lies innocently. It's slid towards him, picked up and flicked through to check the contents.

Charlotte touched nothing, she swears! Just her ID badge. She glances at the file as it's picked up, but only a natural curiosity, she's not actually snooping. Because how hard would it be if she wanted it, anyway? The answer is - not very. When he brings up her ability the girl flushes a bit darker, more towards embaressment than anything else. She's not used to just talking about it, but Nathan's seen it, so her fear of speaking it out loud doesn't apply here. "Yes, sir. They gave me your names. I can find anybody in the world, just by thinking their name, or go anywhere just by thinking the address." She lets out a soft sigh, but the reason for it remains private.

And he doesn't pry, just nods a little in absent acknowledgment. Logan's gaze flickers towards the ID card now hanging from her blouse, then back to her. A glimmer of amusement. "Next time I advise you to go downstairs and ask the security management for a temporary replacement," he says, moving towards the door, fingers hooking into the handle, opening the door once more. He doesn't step outside, just stands next to it. "Then check in with lost and found, the cleaners'll usually pick it up and make sure it's put in the proper hands. Takes longer, but better than invading people's personal spaces."

Charlotte nods, and the hint is easily gotten. Run along now, little girl. She moves for the door, making sure her ID badge is still attached. "Right, Senator. I'm very sorry, I was hoping to just pop in and pop out." Quite literally, as it were. However he's not getting away so easy, as she pauses at the door. Her eyes look up to him, and although they're strangers, she's unsually comassionate just below the eyebrows. "Senator Petrelli, may I also say how unfortunate it is, what happened to your wife. I do wish her a speedy recovery, and if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."

Logan seems mildly taken aback by Charlotte's gesture of compassion - as if, in a way, he'd forgotten that there was anything to feel compassionate about. But lines of weariness deepen around his eyes, a frown and then a half-smile pulling at his mouth. "Thank you," he says, stiffly. "That's nice of you, and I'll keep it in mind. Have a good evening, Ms. Corday."

Charlotte nods once more, turning and slipping out the door. She doesn't make it all the way down the hallway, as the place is empty. She slowly dissapates into nothing. Heading home to the room-mate!

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