2007-03-08: Yes, Daddy


Bob_icon.gif Elle_icon.gif

Date It Happened: March 08, 2007

Summary: Bob doesn't like Peter Petrelli. Bob doesn't like that his daughter likes Peter Petrelli. And now she faces the consequences of those and other actions.

Date It Happened: March 8, 2007

Yes, Daddy

Bob Bishop's Office

"Get out of my way." That'd be Elle's voice just down the hallway from Bob's office. Ha, she's not so much in a good mood. Probably because she suspects some of what's coming. Or, rather, whenever she gets called to the office, it is never anything good. Knocking once on the heavy door, she sticks her head inside. And she's struck for a second by the weird moment of deja vu. Shrugging it off, she smiles at her father timidly and asks, "You wanted to see me?" Into the room she slips.

The disposition of the man seated at the desk inside is not one that is particularly welcoming or warm when Elle opens the door. "Sit down, Elle," Bob commands in a no-nonsense tone, his hands clasped together on the desk before him. Like last time, there are papers spread out before him; some might be photos, in actual fact. He looks… displeased. To put it lightly. "Tell me why you think you're here."

"Because I've been spending too much time with Peter Petrelli?" Elle tries first. She sets the clippers and scissors she still has in her hands from attempting to cut the man in question's hair over on a side table. Moving over to one of the seats in front of her father's desk, she leans back and lays her hands on the armrests. She meets his gaze. "Or maybe its because I nearly killed one of the goons you always send after me to bring me back. Or maybe because I blasted Claire Bennet out a window in broad daylight." She smiles faintly, "Which one is it?"

The smile does nothing to amuse Bob. In actual fact, the little smile makes his expression become even more stern, his hands tightening around each other. He takes a breath. "Claire isn't the issue at hand. Though we are holding you partially responsible for her escape," he says, his tone never becoming any warmer. He turns one of the pictures around, sliding it across the desk to her. It's grainy, as if printed from surveillance video, but it's clearly a shot of Peter's cell, and the blonde woman in the photo is very likely Elle herself, about to hand over a book to Petrelli. "What do you see in this picture, Elle?"

Hahaha, Elle's ability to resist her father is waning. He has that effect on people, really. She gulps, though not audibly, and isn't smiling anymore. The photograph is eyed for a long moment and she seems to relax a little, "Me giving Mr. Petrelli a book to read to pass the time. It's the Wizard of Oz."

"And this one?" The picture that Bob slides to Elle this time is slightly less pedestrian. It's from an earlier date, when she was standing in his cell with a tray, giving Peter his daily pills. (Not that they were actually his pills at all. Bad Elle.) Bob's composure is being tested every second his daughter sits across from him this way, and he's gritting his teeth to maintain his calm expression. "The nurses tell me /you/ have been doing his job for days."

"I'm…" Elle starts, wincing when her father starts with the next photograph. He may have outwardly calm composure, but she's his daughter. She knows better than that. "I have… daddy, I was just trying to make him more comfortable. The nurse doesn't really talk to him. He's been lonely and by himself for weeks. I was just trying to be compassionate." Oy. She probably shouldn't have gone there.

"Compassionate?" There's a gaping crack in Bob's composure now, and he slams a hand down on the photograph on the desk. "Peter Petrelli is DANGEROUS, Elle!" Is it possible that he doesn't know about the placebos? It certainly seems as though he doesn't know that part of the story. "You have no business being in his room, giving him pills or books or anything else." There's a suggestion in there, somewhere, that he doesn't voice. For a moment it seems as if he's about to add something, looking to be on the brink of yelling again, but he takes a deep breath. Calmer, he says, "You have a job to do. A job that you haven't been doing properly for weeks. Your performance is slipping, Elle."

"Daddy, I /like/ him," is Elle's strangled little response to her father's words about Peter. "I'm sorry." This time (as a contrast to last time), she actually looks like she means it. It's when Bob gets to that last bit, about her performance that she opens her mouth again, "I'm trying. Agent Boone said I did a good job, capturing Clint Evans." She wants to yell back, question him on the things he's done to her, but it just won't come out. No, she's well and truly afraid of him in person. Yup. So the only thing that comes out is her trying to appease him. Again.

"Your work capturing Evans was impressive," Bob says, though his tone hardly sounds changed, as he laces his hands together and settles them onto the desk before him again. "Unfortunately, Elle, your achievements are outweighed five times by your sloppy work." He doesn't use the word failure, but it just might be implied in there, somewhere. There is no apology in his tone as he says, "I'm placing you under house arrest until I think you can be trusted to go out in the field without compromising our work." It doesn't sound like this will be one of those 'grounded for two days' things. "You are not to leave your room. Under ANY circumstances."

Elle is stunned. There's no other words for it. She expected anger. She expected a lot of things, but not getting sent to her room. Her eyes are a little wet, her jaw works and no sound comes out at first. Finally, she manages, "Yes, Daddy." That's right, folks. Opportunity to go for broke, passed up by little Elle. "I'm sorry." She definitely sounds like she means it.

"You can go." Oh, he notices the way she's looking at him now. His outward expression changes so little, however, that even if inside his heart were falling to pieces at the sight of his daughter like this, it comes across as cold and distant. Professional. "And Elle?" He's begun collecting the papers on his desk now, and he has them in his hands when he speaks, his gaze locked on one of the surveillance photos from Peter's cell. "I don't want to see you near Peter Petrelli's room again. I don't even want to hear that you /thought/ about it." For just a second, it seems like he just might be softening some, and he adds, "I don't want to see you hurt."

Elle opens her mouth like she may say something, but no. She's about as bruised emotionally as she can stand. Tenseness in her frame, she pushes to her feet and heads for the door, leaving the scissors and clipper where they are on the table. The door is opened, she steps out and shuts it behind her with a soft click. Her last act of defiance for today is not telling her dad she loves him. Biting her lip hard, she starts moving through the hallways towards her room (aka prison). The expression she's wearing is enough to keep anyone who may try to stop and heckle her away. Today, it seems, would not be the day to push Elle Bishop any farther.

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