2007-04-19: Yeah, I Have Friends


Jane_icon.gif Daphne_icon.gif

Summary: Daphne and Jane come across each other, they talk, and birds are made to mentally yell.

Date It Happened: April 19, 2007

Yeah, I Have Friends

Outside and inside Jane Forrest's Apartment, Greenwich Village, Manhattan, NYC


Late afternoon brings Daphne to the apartment of her best friend, Laurel. But after knocking on the door and finding that Laurel isn't there, she's taken a small notepad out of her bag (Her own personal Bronx Zoo letterhead, no less!) in order to write a note. She's sitting in the hall outside Laurel's apartment, pen in hand, writing a very important message - namely, 'I found you the perfect apartment pet. Call me ASAP!' Daphne doesn't need another rabbit after all. Besides, they need to talk about the guy she ran into in the pet store. The one who also hears animals, which, yeah, that was kinda weird in general, but the fact that she seems to be running into more people with 'abilities' is really important. Slipping the note under Laurel's door, Daphne pushes herself to her feet… There are little red spots on her shirt, close to the shoulder. Looks like it could be blood.

At about this time, the guitarist residing in another apartment within this building is stepping out of her door and closing it behind her. Jane's wearing her usual style of clothing: dark jeans, heeled boots, light jacket, and a vintage rock band t-shirt. Today it's one from Aimee Mann of Til Tuesday. Over shoulders are her backpack and guitar case. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail, large hoops dangle from her ears. She seems in good spirits, but also focused as she heads for the street door.

She never did get a name when they randomly met on the street — not that she remembers. However, when she saw the woman at the bar that one time, Daphne was able to figure out what to call her by signs and word of mouth. And, they seem to keep running into each other. As she's about to head toward the door herself, Daphne spots Jane leaving, holds up a hand to wave, and says, "Hey, you!" Eloquent, yes!

The twenty-something guitar-laden brunette stops at the voice's sound and turns partly to fully view she who spake the words. A curious expression comes to her face at first, then shifts into recognition. A quiet smile breaks out. "Hey. Sorry we didn't get to talk that night. I think you left before I got my break. Did you enjoy the performance?" Two steps are taken, closing the distance between women slightly. Her head tilts slightly to the left.

"Ah, yeah, I work early," is Daphne's answer. Weekend, weekday - usually doesn't matter. There are days she gets off, but generally she's at work from day 'til afternoon, depending on the season. Today she took a day off to go to the vet, but that's not the norm. Usually not too keen on complimenting, she just nods to the question. Yeah, it was okay, or she wouldn't have stayed as long as she did. "Probably better that we talk in a more private place anyway." This'll do, but the crowded bar— not so much.

An eyebrow raises at the suggestion of talking in private, and Jane takes a moment to think. A decision is made, she's got time to talk and still make her way over to NYU for meeting with A and A from the newly formed band. "Sure," the guitarist offers, turning to head back the way she came. "Could I get you something to eat or drink once we get there…" The voice trails off when she realizes she doesn't have a name to call the person by. But she doesn't ask, her opting is to share hers and leave choice in Daphne's hands. "Jane Forrest." And she's walking toward the door marked 108, on the first floor.

Well, the hall would have been fine, most likely, but it's a little safer to talk inside someone's apartment. "Yeah, okay," she mutters to herself as Jane turns to lead them back to number 108. "I'm a little thirsty, not really hungry. Little early in the afternoon for food. I'm Daphne." Realising she hasn't actually introduced herself at all, which was kind of rude… But then again, the pigeons were talking to her. "Look, when we met in the city that first time, there was something…" Pause. "Look, I'll just ask this outright. Do weird things ever happen around you?"

The woman asking this question is studied for a long and critical moment, her eyes searching and intent on the face before her. This reaction alone may well answer the question without the verbal reply which doesn't come, at least not yet. Instead Jane turns away again and unlocks her door. It's pushed open and held that way for her guest to enter first. "I've got Pepsi, beer, wine, coffee…" The voice trails off for a pause, when it resumes she adds "and answers, maybe." But she seems unintent on providing any before the door to her private abode is safely closed behind her. Perhaps she has a seemingly inordinant fear of being overheard?

The reaction could be a number of things. Either Jane thinks Daphne's nuts, or there's some truth to what Daphne's said. Either way, there was no laughter accompanying that look, nothing to suggest that Daphne's wrong, which means she might be onto something here. Granted, she's made considerably bolder by the fact that she met Peter in the pet store yesterday. "Pepsi's fine," she says, since it's too early for alcohol, and she still has to drive home. Yes, she's one of the few people in New York who does drive almost everywhere herself! Once the door's closed, she steps past the entryway, looking around at the place, the kitchen, loving room. It's into the latter that she steps, waiting, somewhat uncomfortable in the house of someone she doesn't really know. "I have a reason for asking. It's just that…" Okay, how was she intending this conversation to go?

The door is closed soon after Jane enters through it, and before speaking any reply to the statement and earlier question she remains facing the door. Her lips purse and emit a seemingly soundless tone toward it, moving from floor to the top of the frame while she apparently listens to something only she can hear. A few seconds later she seems satisfied, can be seen and heard entering the kitchen for a two liter bottle and a pair of glasses. On the way, she finishes Daphne's sentence. "Weird things are happening around you, and for whatever reason you suspect it's the same with me." And on speaking this, the hostess thinks to retrieve an old glass she keeps for certain purposes along with a shallow pan to place it in as she makes her way out to the main room. "Make yourself comfortable, please," she invites. Her features show sympathy and understanding.

Well, in this case, she doesn't /suspect./ She— well, she does, but it's closer to knowing than suspecting. The /pigeons told her./ That makes everything true, like the fact that everything on the internet is true, or everything on TV is true. Birds aren't liars, though, that's the thing. They're not really capable of lying, because they don't have the capacity for it. Even monkeys rarely lie. "That's just the thing. I—" No. "I don't know how to address the subject, so I'll just say it. I know something about you that I heard from someone else." Feathery rats with wings, to be specific, and on that note, Daphne sits. It's not really /comfortable,/ but at least she's sitting. "So, it's not really /me,/ so much as it is… you." She's trying to defend herself here, throw accusations at Jane while not really blaming her for anything. "And I was hoping you could, you know, tell me a little?"

"Someone told you about me?" Jane asks, her eyebrows raising in question and concern. That's not good, if someone were out there sharing her secrets without her consent. That the guest might have been told by the pigeons never enters the guitarist's head as she pours two glasses from the big Pepsi bottle and hands one over. A bit of a playful grin comes onto her features next as she sets the pan and old glass down in full view, across the room for safety against what she intends to occur. "I'm a real screamer, Daphne."

Just after saying that, she faces the glass in the pan and opens her mouth. No sound comes out, it seems, but there's a definite result. Her target, and only her target, shatters two seconds later with the shards being captured as intended in the pan.

"Yeah, I have… friends," she states. Term used loosely to describe her feathered buddies who pretty much tell her things randomly just because they can. Taking her glass, she sets it on her knee, one hand curled around it while her interest lies elsewhere. The glass, the statement made by Jane—

And while there's no sound from the other woman herself, every animal in the apartment building, every bird in the area outside— They all yell /at once./ The sound in her head is so powerful that she drops forward from the chair onto her knees, hands flying up to cover her ears, even though this doesn't shut the sound out. The pepsi— well, she's just spilled it all over Jane's floor, but she'll have to worry about that one later. Gritting her teeth, she urges the animals to please - kindly - /shut up./ "God, they were right," she says. Most of the birds are out of her range now, but the dogs and cats are still trying to figure out what the sound was, she can still hear them.

She'd be surprised to learn what it did to birds outside the building just now, the E10 note she sang and held for those two seconds, it normally only works up to twenty feet and is targeted, but… the sound might still be audible for creatures so equipped without the full effect carrying that far. Jane, however, hasn't been told any such thing. All she sees is her guest spilling the soda and dropping to her knees. Feet are quick to carry her across the room; a hand is offered to help the woman back up, and the spill ignored. Carpet can be shampooed later, after all. "Are you okay, Daphne?" Concern's in her voice and on her face, the thought in her mind is her guest is another ultrasonic who just got hit like she has at times by dog whistles.

"H … hang on …" she says shakily, grey eyes wide still as she tries to sort out the voices in her head. Jane's ability might ony have a certain range for breaking things, but for creatures who can hear ten times better than humans… Still, she looks over at the shattered glass, sees it, smiles, then…

Laughs. Like, the chuckle someone has when they're relieved, or after being through a very stressful situation. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, just…" She puts one foot forward to stand, but remains kneeling. At this point, she's almost not sure which voice is Jane's, but she's sorting through them all slowly, and the animals are settling down. "Open the window."

"Okay," Jane replies, curiously. She steps away from her guest and crosses the room again, this time to pull the curtains back slowly and open the window as asked. A moment is taken then to look out and enjoy the view of Greenwich Village streets beyond before returing to her guest.

Okay, sorting through the voices, shutting some out… It's like ears ringing, eventually you can just inore the noise, but it's difficult. Also helps when the problem goes away. In any case, she focuses on one particular voice, and it's not long before a crow appears on Jane's windowsill, hops inside, and calmly bows up and down a couple times in a sort of bow. It doesn't seem particularly thrilled to be here, since the Loud Thing came from somewhere in this vicinity, but the crow doesn't necessarily know that it's Jane. "The reason I knew is because the birds told me," Daphne explains quietly, in case there's anyone listening outside now that the window's open. Once the voices die away completely she raises to her feet, stepping over to the crow. One hand is held out, and the bird hops up onto it. "I can talk to animals."

Watching this with interest, the guitarist chuckles slightly. "That explains a few things, Daphne," Jane states. "I'm also glad I don't have to seriously bitch anyone out about the meaning of trust and privacy. Some few people know about me, they're sworn not to share that info without my permission." Eyes watch the crow enter and go to be held on her guest's hand, a smile spreads.

"Yeah, I just wanted to see if they were right." Pigeons are scared of everything. They might not have been lying, but they could have very well been accidentally exagerrating. She was curious, has kind of been wanting to find more people like herself. She went for a year without knowing that anyone else could do weird things, and now it seems like they're everywhere. Well, not /everyhere,/ but now that she knows what to look for and how to look, it's a lot easier. Holding the crow close to her chest, she rubs its back. The poor thing's feathers are pretty dirty, but that's what soap and water are for - Daphne can wash her hands later. And to be fair, she's worked with worse at the zoo. "No one's saying things they shouldn't. These guys just don't know better."

A nod in reply. "So, then, we can probably consider it understood I don't talk about your thing to others without your okay, and you don't about mine in turn, Daphne." It's said pleasantly enough, but there's also a bit of edge to her voice which communicates she's extremely serious on this point. "I at first thought I had a brain tumor," she adds in a softer tone. "I heard a man use a whistle on his dog and it hurt. Then it happened again, in front of other people. They heard nothing at all. Later I was in Times Square, talking to someone, and got whistlestruck again. That one… well, it made me scream from frustration and fear." She exits the room, getting a clean glass and taking away the spilled one. On her return she pours a fresh soda.

"Don't worry, I don't talk to anyone, unless it's about me." There might be a hint there that she /knows/ others, but isn't saying. And really, besides Jane, there's only Laurel and Peter, though with the number she's found in a relatively short while, there are likely to be more. It's not something they can advertise, though… 'looking for people who are WEIRD!' No. Just not gonna work. "I thought I was schizo or something. Started hearing voices - my cat and my dog at first, then others." Leaning out the window, she lets the crow go, and it flies off. This leaves her hands free so she can take the pepsi. Guiltily, she looks at the floor. "I'm sorry about that—" She sets the glass on the table after taking a sip. "Let me help you clean it up."

"Thanks, Daphne," Jane answers gratefully. "I've met quite a few like us, we're varied in our talents." She's walking again, to the kitchen for paper towels and returning with them to leave the roll on a table and start sponging some of the liquid from carpet. "We can get most of it, and shampoo will get the rest." While doing so, she pauses. Her voice turns serious. "Public exposure would be very bad. I'm sure you're familiar with stories of the Inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials. You've also heard and seen how bad things can be in society for minorities. And… there's another angle."

Taking some paper towel, she drops it on the floor and presses with her foot. Best way to clean up spills at home, and… She's really knowledgable about that, considering the number of animals that live with her. Not really a brag point, but to put it bluntly, she's going to have to replace the carpet if she ever wants to sell the house. Easy enouh to do. "I know. Trust me, if I wasn't /sure/ something was up with you, I wouldn't have said anything." She doesn't broadcast what she can do, and as far as she knows, everyone she works with at the zoo just thinks she's good with animals. Pulling up the soaked towel, she puts more down a moment later. "…Another angle?"

"Not everyone like us can be trusted, Daphne," Jane simply remarks, "and like in society at large there's at least one person who will kill for personal gain." She goes quiet then, working on the floor with towels, and lets Daphne process what she just said however she will. Tear off towels, fold over, dab at spot. Repeat, and repeat again.

"I figured." There's people like that everywhere. People who want to save the whales - not for future generations, but so they can use them as a tourist trap… Just as an example. She's not surprised that there are people out there who use their abilities poorly, or for the wrong reasons. Jane could have been one of them. "I took a chance coming here, but I knew that when I said something to you." And she still doesn't know where all this could be leading. It might be bad. Then again, Peter didn't follow her home and kidnap her last night, so… "At the same time, you have to trust /someone./"

"Yes," Jane replies. "Very true. I've made that same leap a few times. Some of them are becoming my closest friends," she confides, "because I like them and… it's only people like us for the most part I feel I can be truly honest with. Even the members of my new band are outsiders." These words are spoken somberly, quietly. She doesn't like this, but it just is what it is. "I'm going to give you a photo, Daphne. If you see the man in it, don't draw attention to yourself. Go elsewhere as calmly as you can, and call the police."

She doesn't think people 'not like her' are outsiders. As far as she knows, neither her mother or her father are 'special,' but then again, she might just have no idea. She has friends who have no abilities, she… Can't shut herself out like that, it just doesn't make sense. Is she gonna question someone else's methods, though? No. Instead, she just nods, before picking up the last bit of soaked towel and putting it off to the side. Taking her glass again, she sips at it. "One of those people I'm not supposed to trust," she says as she waits for the photo.

Her eyes rest on Daphne for a few moments as she considers her own words. "Outsiders in the sense that I won't tell them the full truth about me, that I'll keep this secret from them, much as I want to share it and be honest. I hate it, but such is life." Eye contact for a bit more time, hoping it makes sense to Daphne, before she rises to go get the photo.

It does make sense a little, since Daphne's often struggled to not tell people what she can do. You just can't be close with someone if you can't tell them /everything/ about you, so in a sense, Jane's exactly right. It's too bad. It'd be so much easier if half the world wasn't paranoid about things they don't understand. "I know." As she told Peter yesterday, she's still kind of at the 'why me' stage, though that's changing as she gains more control over what she can do.

Booted feet carry Jane down the hall to the room she keeps as an office of sorts, and returns with a single photo. The image, in black and white, is of a man. "This is Gabriel Gray, Daphne. What do you do if you see him?" It's a calmly asked question, but also clear she wants to hear the routine repeated for surety of understanding. One hand takes her glass, she drinks from it.

Taking the photo from Jane, she looks down at it, looks back up, then back down at the photo. Why does she have a picture of this guy if he's so dangerous? Personally, Daphne's not sure if she wants to be seen with it, though she tucks it into her bag all the same. Gabriel Gray, huh? "I'm not ten years old," she mutters, clearly annoyed by the question. Her temper is occasionnally touchy at best. "I'll call the police. Not sure what I'm supposed to say, but…"

"Sorry," she offers quietly. Something about this guy, it isn't hard to guess, scares Jane, and that prompts the pedantry with the question, the wanting to be sure people she knows really get it and don't get hurt. Or worse. "Just tell the police you saw Gabriel Gray, when, and where. And don't do anything to get his attention. Please."

Daphne takes another drink, before setting the glass down again. It's about half-full still, though most of that's just ice by now. "Thank you. For the drink, and— The picture." She pats her bag again, with the photo inside. Maybe she should talk to Laurel about him, too. Daphne's not going to make the mistake of assuming he's not dangerous just because he doesn't look like it. The worst ones are always the innocent ones. This Gabriel fellow looks kind of like a nerd, to be honest. "I have to get home. Gonna be a long drive as it is."

It's a thing Jane wrestles with, internally, whether to give the warning or not, and if so how much to share. Whether or not to introduce anyone to that kind of potential fear and how it can disrupt lives, but she consistently comes down on the side of fairness, that all like her deserve the chance to know a threat exists and avoid it. So easy, in her mind, to catch the wrong attention. If Gray were to spot her wincing from a dog whistle and do the mental math… Checkmate, in the guitarist's mind. So she shares in such a way as Daphne is warned, and yet can live her life. "You're welcome, Daphne," she replies with a kind smile. "My number is 283-2260, call me if you want to talk, and maybe I'll see you at the zoo sometime."

She'll… just be careful. She has been so far, so there's no reason to randomly change her habits to something more reckless. She's not really familiar with fear as a constant, but she's starting to get a lot more paranoid lately. More care is required, so she'll take it.

When Jane gives her her number, Daphne takes out her little notpad, tears a sheet in half, and writes Jane's number down. On the otheer half, she writes her own, and hands it over. "I'll probably see you around here, if you live in this building. A friend of mine lives here, too." That said, she makes her way to the door. With hope, she tries Laurel's door again on her way out, but there's no answer. Drat. Time to head home.

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