2010-08-16: The Incident



Date: August 16, 2010


Some things are better left to the imagination… depending on your vantage point.

"The Incident"

The Car

The sunshine flooding into the car causes Sydney's hair to glisten brightly and reflects against her ghostly pale skin. Fingers grip the steering wheel tightly and eyes hide behind a pair of very very dark, too-big-for-her-face sunglasses. Her summer dress is covered by an oversized sweater, something she'd left in the car; it was too hot to wear when she'd left it. Now? The temperature has cooled considerably, even though it's well into bright summer weather outside.

Irritably her mouth purses, displaying her mood for the passenger. This is the first time she's been out of the house in nearly a week and evidently it didn't go well. She slams on the brakes to meet the demands of a red light, with little concern for consequences for her passenger.

Silence has filled the air of the car since they'd entered. The radio is off. And Sydney? Well, she hasn't uttered a word.

When the car makes its sudden stop, Lizzie rocks forward in her seat and her head hits the dashboard. A little pout forms on her lips as she rights herself, rubbing the spot on her forehead as she glares across at Sydney. She isn't angry like Sydney, though, just perturbed at her roomie's horrendous attitude.

"I don't see what the big deal is…" the tiny blonde chirps as she lowers her hand and then replaces her own oversized shades on her nose. "I mean, it's not like you're tattooed or anything."

Reaching down, Lizzie flips on the radio station. She turns it to her favorite top 40, and leans back in her seat to sing along.

When Lizzie leans back, Sydney shuts the radio off before issuing Lizzie a strained smile and redirecting her attention to the road. Despite herself, she's tongue-tied — without words to express her current state of being. Impatiently, she taps on the steering wheel. And then the light turns green.

Like she has lead in her foot, she zooms passed the light, her eyes scanning the road all too aware of her surroundings. Thanks to her current state of play, adrenaline courses in her veins as she presses her lips together again, as if keeping her words sealed within.

Yet several escape, "I don't want to discuss the…" each syllable is spat with that same annoyance, but the last word is given some consideration "… incident."

Giving the driver a very liberal roll of her eyes, Lizzie just turns her head toward the window and watches the passing buildings. "I just took you to the spa…"

The jasmine scented air that greets the pair as they float through the door is intoxicating. Pinky fingers linked, Lizzie leads Sydney into a twirl in the middle of the floor, stopping her right in front of the hostess. "We have an appointment!" she announces with a wide grin. She's so excited, Sydney is too, they even wore matching outfits for their day together. "We want… The Works."

The staff of the establishment greet them with bright white smiles that match their uniforms. Everything inside the building is white, sage, or pink; pretty pastel colors that lift ones mood as soon as they walk in. It certainly works for Lizzie, she couldn't be happier, she's been floating on cloud nine since she got up this morning.

Sydney, dressed in a hot pink go-go dress and white go-go boots draws her perfectly fitted Gucci sunglasses from her nose while she twirls with Lizzie. Her blonde locks are pulled into a high beehive, quaffed beautifully for a day trip to the spa just to have it redid. The poodle the pair have with them is also pink coloured, fluffy as can be. Happily, Pepito wags his tail as his owners check in at the front desk before bouncing to one of the waiting chairs which he assumes as his own.

"Yes! Everything you can possibly do, we'd like to have done! Hair! Nails — " midsentence, however, the therapist is interrupted by the random appearance of Cosmopolitans one for each of the ladies.

The woman behind the counter issues both a positively delightful smile. "Well. You both have a seat with your dog and then we'll call you when we're ready! Go. Enjoy some girl talk," the last sentence is whispered with a pronounced wink like the worker knows something the girls don't.

Cosmo in hand, Sydney takes a seat next to Lizzie and places Pepito between them before crossing her legs. "Well, I've been dying to talk to you about a certain someone…" she raises a hand to her lips to hide the girlish giggle threatening to come out.

A dainty tanned hand is ruffled lightly through the tiny dog's fluffy do as she cocks an ear toward Sydney in a rather conspiratorial manner. An impish giggle escapes her causing the cosmo she's brought to her lips to ripple and threaten to spill over. "Is it… Laurie~?" the tiny woman sing-songs as she finally manages to take a long sip of her drink.

Unlike her friend, Lizzie doesn't have her legs crossed, she has her knees pinned together and her feet are angled inward in a sort of duck pose. Her lemon yellow and pink dress matches her friend's solid pink one just enough that one might think the two were sisters. Sydney being older, of course. "I have something to tell you too~" she continues, her voice nothing but a wistful sigh as she shrugs one shoulder flirtatiously. "I think I have a boyfriend~"

"Besides, you seemed like you were having loads of fun…" Turning toward Sydney again, Lizzie's lips are downturned in a pitiful expression.

"Loads of fun?" Sydney's skepticism grows as her grip on the steering wheel increases. Lizzie's rendition of the morning's events have succeed in one thing, they've pulled the therapist out of her silence. "That's not how what it was like at all. First off: we don't own a dog let alone a poodle. I've never owned a dog. Ever. And the yard needs enough— no, I digress— we don't own a dog." Her chin drops as she glances at her clothing. "Second: I've never worn hot pink. Ever. Except maybe when I was like three and not able or allowed to dress myself. It's just… not my colour and really, I'm sitting next to you and NOT wearing pink now. Third? You had to drag me to go! If memory serves me correctly, I was content to stay home, paint my own nails… the place was… scary…"

Wafts of chemicals, decay, and rotting greet the blondes who enter the spa in what appears to be the dead of night, blacker than black. A single light brings the spa reception into focus with a goth girl behind the counter — her hair replaced by a black wig with too-thick strands. Skeptically, Sydney peers at her friend as goosebumps form along her pale skin. "W-we… we have an appointment?" it's a question rather than a statement, some places it's safer not to stick around.

The grey coloured walls of the spa absorb the light, only increasing the drabness of this space.

Bored and lethargic, the goth girl peers between Lizzie and Sydney, an odd sarcasm laced through her features. Several ants run across the counter and over her hand, only causing Sydney to shiver again before murmuring, "That can't be sanitary…"

"We're here for the full treatment," Lizzie smirks as she turns to give Sydney a rather sinister and narrow eyed glare. Her blue lipstick and heavy black eyeliner match the raven color of the streaks in her hair. "They're really going to work you over.."

The goth girl sniffs a nasally laugh that ends in a little snort as she points them toward a couple of folding metal chairs that line the wall of the entrance. "Sit wherever, they'll call you when they feel like it."

Leading Sydney with a firm grip on her upper arm, Lizzie practically tosses the therapist toward one of the chairs. Along the wall is a small refreshment table with a stained thermos and a few styrofoam cups on it. The younger woman goes over and pours two cups of inky liquid into two of the little cups and passes one to the therapist.

The coffee's cold, it has an oily substance pooling on the top of it, and there's already a red lipstick stain on the outside of the cup. At least they believe in recycling.

"Lizzie I don't…" Sydney tries to pull her arm away, but she's trapped. Stuck within Lizzie's grasp and stuck within this space. "I don't… just my nails, okay? Nothing. Nothing weird." She tugs on one of her blonde locks with her fingers until the coffee is brought to her, promptly earning a scowl. "That's disgusting! Are there no standard practices here at all? Ants. Gross coffee cup. Gross coffee — " she wrinkles her nose at it as she examines the cup only to promptly spill it, reclaiming her title as the number one coffee spiller, but the texture of this brew is different than normal. "I think that's motor oil — "

Sydney's gaze moves from the road to Lizzie, but only for a second, her entire head turning to face the other blonde, "It was disgusting. I'll probably get mold growing in my nail beds. Or die of food poisoning from that coffee — what was that?"

Her gaze returns to the road with a wrinkle of her nose. "It's just lucky I stopped her before — " Her face flushes involuntarily as she increases her speed with a loud rev of the car's engine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's the best spa in New York City," Lizzie sniffs, turning towards the window again. "It was exactly like that except for a few minor details. I mean, no, you're not wearing pink or go-go boots…" Her voice drifts as she widens her eyes and jerks her head quickly toward Sydney. "Can we get a dog?" Her voice is breathy and wistful, as though it's her heart's desire to have the little tiny poodle from her fantasy.

"Oooohhhh it would be soooo cute! I promise I'll clean up after it!" Clasping her hands together, she sits back and smiles. Her eyelids drift closed behind the pair of dark glasses with the golden frames.

Her reverie is interrupted by the horrible vision that Sydney paints, the coffee, the ants, the mold, and…

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!!" The shriek is enough to pop eardrums and the glasses are whipped off Lizzie's face faster than Sydney has time to react to it. "I have never in my life worn blue lipstick!! I can't believe you could say such a horrible thing to me!! Why didn't you just call me a— a— a 'C' word or something?! That's way better than what you just said!!" To top it off, there's tears in Lizzie's eyes, it seems Sydney really did hurt her feelings.

"We don't need a dog — wait. What?!" Sydney tugs on her sunglasses, finally peeling them from her nose. "Fine, fine. You weren't wearing blue lipstick, but you WERE scary! It was scary! The place had SO many windows! Don't you know you're not supposed to sit in front of a window lest someone do a drive-by and shoot you?! That's why the couch isn't in front of the window — " Ah. Wisdom from Sydney's grandmother; the best kind. Paranoid, and just a little crazy.

Her eyes narrow at the road and she drops the sunglasses to the console. "You're not a C-word! But I didn't expect her to…" Sydney's cheeks flush again. "Some things just aren't supposed to happen. They're just not! It's not remotely natural. A manicure? Sure. Prevents ingrown fingernails. A pedicure? Fine. Same deal. That — THAT has no purpose! I don't even know why people would want that — " There's a pause before the therapist adds, "I feel so violated."

"I don't know why, everybody's doing it. I did it, I didn't even squirm." The tiny passenger is so matter of fact about the whole thing. It's a blase topic to her, one that is barely granted the bat of an eyelash. Had anyone been listening they might think the women are talking about something horribly offensive, the way the subject is avoided and woven around.

"You know, we need more windows. That house is so dark all the time. Do you think Laurie~ would knock out a wall or two and put some in?" Lizzie smiles her most darling little smile, trying to seem completely innocent as she sings out the name of the man that helped her make cupcakes. "You know, you should totally ask him to be our live in handyman. Either that or I could get Mister E to— OH! That would be so great! Mister E and Kennis could come and live with us!"

"It is a big deal! A very big deal! A person should be asked! Specifically asked before… that." Sydney continues to dance around the topic at hand, completely embarrassed by it, until she forces herself, "And now, thanks to it, I have a partial papillon on my poofnee! It's… terrible. Completely terrible!"

Her face flushes a bright pink at the sung name as her head shakes. "No. No more windows. The ones we have are quite enough, thank you." Her lips press together rather involuntarily, "But.. maybe Mister E and his daughter. We'll talk about it later."

Strangely the car pulls over even though the pair are in Greenwich Village and Sydney undoes her seatbelt. "Just wait here a few moments." She points towards the building just right of them, a place with which Lizzie is familiar. "I need some files from my desk." Even if she's not working here, it still houses her mysterious things.

As instructed, Lizzie waits in the car. She leans over to the driver's side for a better angle to view the old highrise the two of them had apartments in, even shared for a little while. Letting off a mournful sigh, she rights herself and slouches low into the seat. Only the top of her head to the bridge of her nose is visible from the outside of the car. Her large blue eyes follow people as they move past the window, some at a fast pace, some slow, some even stopping to glance into the window of the center. None of them are particularly interesting to the little socialite.

A good ten minutes pass before Sydney returns with a box full of things. Clumsily, she struggles to open car door, the box thwarting her efforts; she's going to have to put it down to have any measure of success — until… a dark haired young man, no more than seventeen opens the door for her and issues her a bright smile. There's nothing assuming about the kid. His dark hair and bright eyes reflect an joviality, but there is something vaguely familiar about him; even though she's never laid eyes on him. He tugs the beanie hat just over his ears as he takes a step back.

"Thanks," the blonde replies, her body tensing even at the random kindness of a stranger as she puts the boxes in the back seat.

"Aye, Down't worry 'bout luv," Finn winks as he takes another step back.

Syd thinks nothing else of it as she slides back into the driver's seat and starts the engine.

As the car pulls away, Finn reaches into his pocket and dials something, "Eh? Seamus? Yeah… that was her — " and at those words another car drives some distance behind the blonde therapists, just far enough out of range to avoid detection.

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