xp_logs | Enter Sofia

Remy and Amanda go to pick up the newest member of the family. Amanda is suspicious, Remy is crankypants, and Sofia is slightly drunk. All in all, good times.

Fuck there was a lot of fucked-up shite out there. Amanda was frowning at one of the many leads Strange had dumped on her and Wanda, something about accounts of a group that worshipped some ancient unspeakable evil, blah blah blah. What was it with ancient unspeakable evil, any way? And if it was so unspeakable, how did people find out about it in the first place?

Still, the office was air-conditioned, her desk chair was comfy and her laptop was playing one of the CDs she'd borrowed from Pete the other week. So life wasn't entirely that difficult.

"'manda!" Remy stormed out from his office, a snarl on his face. He flung the keys at her backhandedly, neatly dropping them into her coffee mug as he went past. "I need a driver."

At least he hadn't thrown them at her head, which she would have expected after the business with Lorna. Amanda picked up her mug, fishing the keys out and drying them on a napkin left over from lunch. There'd been an inch of cold tea in the bottom of the mug. "Where to?" she asked. "And do I need to bring the body armour?" Not that they had any, but Remy snarling was always a sign of Interesting Times.

"Her Imperial Fetishness has ordered us to go pick up some new employee." The word ordered practically dripped poison the way he said it. "Twenty fucking years experience and I'm a goddamn cab now. Can't wait to get de tiny little hat dat comes wit it." He started limping down the hall, muttering under his breath about stitching up Wisdom and Frost together and making them eat a colour wheel.

Oh, that kind of trip. "Airport?" she asked unnecessarily, as she scooped up her leather jacket and trotted after him, catching up with him fairly easily. "Tho' we need some new blood around here - we're rattling around in her like a couple of peas in the bottom of a can."

"Least de rest of us can figure out how to hail a cab. You have my permission to doublepark when we get dere. De car is in her company's name." Remy stabbed the button on the elevator like it was something personal.

"Can I pick the radio station too?" Amanda asked with a grin, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"No. Don't touch the radio."

***

Fucking New York drivers," Amanda was grumbling as they entered La Guardia. As always, it was crowded with travelers and families and those people who just seem to populate airports for no apparent reason. The drive over had been... entertaining, in a way. Road rage was much more fun when one of the participants had a habit of reverting back into a thick South London accent when she was annoyed. "So, any idea of what this bloke looks like?"

“Femme. Name of Barret or something. Just look for a leather clad dominatrix wit' a degree in accounting or something." Remy groused, looking for the airport bar. It was vaguely comforting to drink in a place called the 'terminal' bar.

"And I thought we were avoiding the leather fetish stuff," Amanda said, rolling her eyes a little. Maybe they should have brought a sign.

"That's a relief. I left my crop in Trier."

The voice, strange, and if it were coming from several directions at once, was followed by the click of heels against linoleum from behind them. Approaching was a darkhaired woman, pulling a suitcase behind her. Curls fell onto a white, collared shirt, which was tucked into a pair of rumpled dark brown trousers, and her walk, although straight, was vaguely related to unsteady.

Her eyes swept over the pair of them unapologetically, taking them in, before she came to stand before them. "It's cute. Like a two-for-one deal."

Amanda looked the woman up and down. Either she'd been into the in-flight drinks a bit much or... actually, there was no or. She wrinkled her nose a little at being called cute. "Um, something like that. I'm just the sidekick, tho'. You'd be Barret?"

"Remy going to guess yes." Remy finally caught sight of the bar. "Nice to talk wit' you, I'm sure. Pleasure to meet you. Dere's a welcome basket of fruit in de car. Now Remy going for a drink."

The corner of Sofia's mouth twitched ever so slightly as she shifted her weight, resisting the urge to sit down on her suitcase right there. "Mantega-Barret. Sofia," she replied quietly among the din of the airport. "According to the thousands of pieces of paper I had faxed to my hotel at some ungodly hour, you're Amanda." Glancing at Remy’s back as he walked away, she continued. “I don’t suppose we could just leave him here. It’d make my job easier.”

Amanda rolled her eyes at Remy. Bastard wasn't going to abandon her with this woman, was he? "Tempting," she said shortly, trying not to twitch too much at the thought of people having many pieces of paper about her. It smacked too much of her police record back in England. "Except he'd make my life hell for it." And she had to admit, the idea of getting a drink was tempting, except she was driving, dammit. "But you already would know that, from the files."

"The files are obviously all full of lies," Sofia answered smoothly, her voice a measure of calm as her hair waved gently against her collar. "And what is your choice of action now?"

Amanda sighed. Deeply. She had a feeling Emma wouldn't be impressed if they let this woman make her own way back to the city and whilst she didn't like to mess with Remy, Emma trumped him by virtue of being able to reduce her to a gibbering schoolgirl with one raised eyebrow. Remy generally had to use two. "Oi, Remy!" she yelled into the bar, ignoring the stares and annoyed glances. "We're taking off. See you later, yeah?"

The only response was a hand emerging from the dimness of the bar to wave shortly.

***

Having left Remy behind at the airport (see, now you have to go read the first log) Amanda and Sofia drive home. It's almost a bonding moment. And then Sofia mentions what her job is.

The wheels of Sofia's suitcase thumped across the cracks in the sidewalk as they made their way through the automatic sliding doors and towards where Amanda had parked. At least it was sunny here; to be honest, Sofia couldn't exactly remember the last place she had been, but it had certainly not been sunny. Though, at least there, there had certainly been a lack of little boys who had been forced too early to use canes.

"Thank you," Sofia offered, breaking the silence. "I know you would have preferred to stay with him."

The younger girl shrugged. "Maybe. But I couldn't leave you to fend for yourself, not when you don't know where you're going. Besides, would have been a wasted trip out here if you had. He'll just have to owe me one." A really big one, she amended, hoping the new woman wasn't a psi. "So, Ms. Frost hired you, did she? Wouldn't be the accountant, would you?"

"Something like that. Except I'm afraid I'm rather dismal at math," Sofia answered, hardly a pause in her gait as she reached into the bag over her shoulder to pull out a pair of sunglasses. "Was the part about your being a researcher true?"

“An accountant awful at numbers - sounds about right for us." Despite her natural suspicions, Amanda grinned. "Yeah, I am. Crap at maths meself, but I'm good with languages. And books seem to like me." They reached the car, and Amanda dug the keys out of her jacket pocket to open the trunk. "You want help with that?" she asked, nodding at the suitcase.”

The suitcase's bottom swooped up, lifted, as Sofia, hand still on the strap, guided it in. Her look was casual about the whole thing – obviously levitating luggage was quite the norm in where ever she came from – and moved around to the passenger side. "I think I managed," she replied evenly over the top of the car, sliding in as Amanda unlocked it for her. "But books are. A noble cause. Do you enjoy it?"

It was only years spent hanging around with Nate that kept Amanda's jaw from dropping, and she automatically glanced around to make sure the ravening mobs weren't approaching. They weren't, so collecting herself she unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat. "Um, yeah, I do. I've always liked that part of things, especially when there's nothing blowing up." Looking over her shoulder as she reversed out of the space, she frowned a little. "Ah, you might want to hold off on the telekinetic tricks in public tho'. America, land of the free, home of the intensely paranoid and all the rest. The FOH over here tends to be more hands-on than you might be used to."

Catching her reflection in the sideview mirror, Sofia pursed her lips and tucked a piece of unruly hair behind her ear. “I dare them to try,” she replied calmly, obviously now satisfied with her appearance as she let herself slump a little in the passenger’s seat.

Putting the car into 'drive', Amanda snorted a little. Whatever else their new recruit might be, she was nothing if confident. Wonder how long that'll last with our lot? Glancing over at Sofia, she noted the slump. "Rough flight?" she asked, more to fill the sudden silence than anything.

Sofia allowed herself to hide behind the protection of her sunglasses – dark circles and half closed eyes were hardly becoming first impressions – but couldn’t help the slight loll of her head towards Amanda, nor the tired half-smile; perhaps she would be one of the few drivers out there that actually watched the road and would miss it. “Several of them, yes. Jammed into a huge tube of metal with several people with colds or babies is no way to fly.”

“Such is the jet-setting lifestyle, huh?" There might have been a small dig in her words - to Amanda, Sofia's dress and manner said 'money' and that tended to make her almost as twitchy as knowing there were large files about her. "Tho' it's one of the parts of the job I really like, being able to go to all sorts of places. Where have you just come from?"

“You’d think someone could have warned me. I’d become used to staying in one country,” Sofia replied, but with no malice to her tone. It was odd; though there was a layer of exhaustion, so far her voice spoke of nothing but a pleasant neutral. “Well, I think I was speaking Spanish. Or French. And I dimly recall going over water. So I suppose that narrows it down to just about all of Europe.”

That got an actual chuckle from Amanda. "Except England, of course," she replied, slowing down for a light - she was taking care to be on her best driving behaviour. "We wouldn't be caught dead speaking anything but the Queen's Own." There was a definite note of scorn in Amanda's voice - if anything, her experiences since coming to the States had opened her eyes to the narrow-mindedness of some of her countrymen. "Well, Frost'll probably foot the bill for a hotel tonight and once you've rested up you'll have your pick of empty apartments in our building down at the Village. Office is all set up with desk and computer and the like." She glanced over at Sophia again. "Are you really the accountant? You don't seem the type."

“I hope it has room for a couch,” Sofia commented, allowing the slightest hint of humour to tint her words. “I seem to be the Center’s new psychotherapist.”