Remy et Sofia
May. 15th, 2007 02:13 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsFor reasons unknown, Sofia feels she has to go check up on the returned Remy, even after he ignored her the other day. Yeah, it goes about as well as anyone reading that could expect. And then! They're sort of sweet, in a messed up kind of way. For Rossi.
Well, it would have been hard to make things more uncomfortable. Sofia
was sitting on Remy's couch, having just knocked at the door. LeBeau
was perched on the arm of a chair, and both people seemed to be at a
loss of exactly what to say without the protective buffer of others
around them. Their therapy sessions had gone much the same way, Remy
sitting in silence, as she waited with apparently limitless patience.
"Something to drink?" Remy said finally, lamely playing host.
"I'd ask you if you had something in the one-sixty to two-hundred
proof range, but you'd probably only ask me if I minded it in a mug,"
Sofia commented, almost idly, as she looked around the room. She was
taking in the decor as one might pour through an old journal; quietly
evading. "That means yes, by the way. As in, if you could get it to
me yesterday, that'd be perfect."
"Have to wait until we hire dat time-travel mutant for dat." Remy got
up and collected a pair of glasses from the kitchen. With a shrug, he
grabbed the half full bottle of bourbon that Wanda had gotten him for
his birthday. His leg was killing him, and while the bourbon might not
be good for the kidney, he didn't have problems with liberally applied
chemical painkillers. LeBeau returned to the living room, pouring a
measure into each glass and handing one to her. "Was dere
something dat you needed?"
Sofia took a quiet breath, testing her drink before finding herself
staring forcefully at it, as if inspiration might come to the surface.
"I didn't plan anything past getting in," she admitted, glancing up.
"You ruined my creative wind maneuvers with your strange
appearance of manners."
"Next week we can go back to insulting each other non-stop if you
prefer." Remy pointed out.
"I don't know how to deal with anything else," she answered,
brown holding redblack with surprising honesty; she usually lied when it
suited her and made no excuses for it.
"Well, dat's what makes for such a pleasent atmosphere 'round de
office. It wouldn't be de same wit'out you trying to poison my coffee
every morning." Remy shook his head. She was what she was, he guessed.
Between her and Sarah, he was likely the only person who actually did
need to be concerned about boobytraps going into the office. "So,
lovely as dis little visit is, was dere a point to it?"
Taking a deep breath, molasses slow, Sofia looked away, to the join of
two planks of wood, and how the light condensation had separated them.
"No. Obviously not," she said roughly, finishing
her drink in two swallows and shoving the glass towards him.
"Wait." Remy said, half twisting from his seat. "Dere's something for
you. I ordered it after we got back from China, but you can't rush dere production.
Give me a second?" Remy put the bottle near her glass as he got up awkwardly
from the chair and groped for his cane.
"If it's a very deep hole to sink in, I think it could be love," Sofia
mumbled quietly to herself, as she poured herself a little more at his
invitation, ignoring the burning sensation in her throat. She felt oddly at home
here, as much as a home as she ever had, though, she couldn't
quite figure out why.
Remy disappeared into his room for a moment, and came back out with a
black garment bag which he held up by the hanger. He limped over and
hooked it on to the window ledge across from her where she could open
it, and sat back down.
"If this is one of those sequined drag-queen dre-" Sofia started, as
she stood and began pulling the zipper down, instantly silenced as the
black twill was revealed. The zipper was still a moment, as she gave
herself a moment to wrap wounds never healed, but soon the entire gift --
tailored, it seemed at a glance, to her broad shoulders and hourglass
figure, a light sheen to indicate water repellant -- was before her, black
buttons showing just the faintest hint of shine.
"A trenchcoat."
"Dey were out of de sequined ones." Remy said dryly as she looked over
the coat. He remained standing, hands loosely clasped on the top of his cane as he
watched her reaction closely.
Smooth, clean lines and double stitching on stressed seams; someone
had put a lot of work into this piece. Sofia paused to let the
inkling in the back of her head fully form, and she realised this
coat, her coat, looked remarkably like the ones Betsy and the
boys wore on occasion. Putting the lining of one of the pockets back
in -- it was a black, poly-satin jacquard, a nice touch -- she looked
over at him with childlike confusion. "I... don't understand. I
mean, I understand that it's a coat, but, you..."
"Remy been basically scoring a perfect record of being wrong over de
last few months. 'bout a lot of things, and a few too many people."
LeBeau's voice was casual but his eyes weren't. The strange red on
black normally had an intensity that few matched, and when he was
truly watching, it gave the distinct impression that no detail was
missed. "You walked into pretty much certain death wit'out hesitation
and came out wit' over ten million lives behind you. Dere's not a
person here dat wouldn't say dat you earned dat 'bout hundred times
over. 'specially since dere lives were included."
A silence, interrupted only by the whisper of her thumb nail brushing
against the lapel, over and over, enfolded the room. Sofia forced
herself not to rush her answer, eyes fixed, but found herself coming
around in circles for how exactly to reply. "Thank you," she said
finally, trying a rare, quiet smile. "Twenty million and I get a
company car? Well. Scooter."
"Dat and a twenty dollar gift certificate for lunch at Hooters." Remy
said with a shrug. It was already uncomfortably close to real
sincerity in the apartment.
"I like their curly fries," she replied absently, pulling the zipper on
the garment bag back up and lifted it down and gently over her arm.
"I'm going to go now. Have a good afternoon, LeBeau."
Well, it would have been hard to make things more uncomfortable. Sofia
was sitting on Remy's couch, having just knocked at the door. LeBeau
was perched on the arm of a chair, and both people seemed to be at a
loss of exactly what to say without the protective buffer of others
around them. Their therapy sessions had gone much the same way, Remy
sitting in silence, as she waited with apparently limitless patience.
"Something to drink?" Remy said finally, lamely playing host.
"I'd ask you if you had something in the one-sixty to two-hundred
proof range, but you'd probably only ask me if I minded it in a mug,"
Sofia commented, almost idly, as she looked around the room. She was
taking in the decor as one might pour through an old journal; quietly
evading. "That means yes, by the way. As in, if you could get it to
me yesterday, that'd be perfect."
"Have to wait until we hire dat time-travel mutant for dat." Remy got
up and collected a pair of glasses from the kitchen. With a shrug, he
grabbed the half full bottle of bourbon that Wanda had gotten him for
his birthday. His leg was killing him, and while the bourbon might not
be good for the kidney, he didn't have problems with liberally applied
chemical painkillers. LeBeau returned to the living room, pouring a
measure into each glass and handing one to her. "Was dere
something dat you needed?"
Sofia took a quiet breath, testing her drink before finding herself
staring forcefully at it, as if inspiration might come to the surface.
"I didn't plan anything past getting in," she admitted, glancing up.
"You ruined my creative wind maneuvers with your strange
appearance of manners."
"Next week we can go back to insulting each other non-stop if you
prefer." Remy pointed out.
"I don't know how to deal with anything else," she answered,
brown holding redblack with surprising honesty; she usually lied when it
suited her and made no excuses for it.
"Well, dat's what makes for such a pleasent atmosphere 'round de
office. It wouldn't be de same wit'out you trying to poison my coffee
every morning." Remy shook his head. She was what she was, he guessed.
Between her and Sarah, he was likely the only person who actually did
need to be concerned about boobytraps going into the office. "So,
lovely as dis little visit is, was dere a point to it?"
Taking a deep breath, molasses slow, Sofia looked away, to the join of
two planks of wood, and how the light condensation had separated them.
"No. Obviously not," she said roughly, finishing
her drink in two swallows and shoving the glass towards him.
"Wait." Remy said, half twisting from his seat. "Dere's something for
you. I ordered it after we got back from China, but you can't rush dere production.
Give me a second?" Remy put the bottle near her glass as he got up awkwardly
from the chair and groped for his cane.
"If it's a very deep hole to sink in, I think it could be love," Sofia
mumbled quietly to herself, as she poured herself a little more at his
invitation, ignoring the burning sensation in her throat. She felt oddly at home
here, as much as a home as she ever had, though, she couldn't
quite figure out why.
Remy disappeared into his room for a moment, and came back out with a
black garment bag which he held up by the hanger. He limped over and
hooked it on to the window ledge across from her where she could open
it, and sat back down.
"If this is one of those sequined drag-queen dre-" Sofia started, as
she stood and began pulling the zipper down, instantly silenced as the
black twill was revealed. The zipper was still a moment, as she gave
herself a moment to wrap wounds never healed, but soon the entire gift --
tailored, it seemed at a glance, to her broad shoulders and hourglass
figure, a light sheen to indicate water repellant -- was before her, black
buttons showing just the faintest hint of shine.
"A trenchcoat."
"Dey were out of de sequined ones." Remy said dryly as she looked over
the coat. He remained standing, hands loosely clasped on the top of his cane as he
watched her reaction closely.
Smooth, clean lines and double stitching on stressed seams; someone
had put a lot of work into this piece. Sofia paused to let the
inkling in the back of her head fully form, and she realised this
coat, her coat, looked remarkably like the ones Betsy and the
boys wore on occasion. Putting the lining of one of the pockets back
in -- it was a black, poly-satin jacquard, a nice touch -- she looked
over at him with childlike confusion. "I... don't understand. I
mean, I understand that it's a coat, but, you..."
"Remy been basically scoring a perfect record of being wrong over de
last few months. 'bout a lot of things, and a few too many people."
LeBeau's voice was casual but his eyes weren't. The strange red on
black normally had an intensity that few matched, and when he was
truly watching, it gave the distinct impression that no detail was
missed. "You walked into pretty much certain death wit'out hesitation
and came out wit' over ten million lives behind you. Dere's not a
person here dat wouldn't say dat you earned dat 'bout hundred times
over. 'specially since dere lives were included."
A silence, interrupted only by the whisper of her thumb nail brushing
against the lapel, over and over, enfolded the room. Sofia forced
herself not to rush her answer, eyes fixed, but found herself coming
around in circles for how exactly to reply. "Thank you," she said
finally, trying a rare, quiet smile. "Twenty million and I get a
company car? Well. Scooter."
"Dat and a twenty dollar gift certificate for lunch at Hooters." Remy
said with a shrug. It was already uncomfortably close to real
sincerity in the apartment.
"I like their curly fries," she replied absently, pulling the zipper on
the garment bag back up and lifted it down and gently over her arm.
"I'm going to go now. Have a good afternoon, LeBeau."
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no subject
Date: 2007-05-15 06:51 pm (UTC)(Nice symbolism.)
no subject
Date: 2007-05-15 09:49 pm (UTC)I've been waiting for this log since Christmas, you two. Best gift ever. *glees* Well worth the wait - wonderfully understated, with a hell of a punch.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-15 10:55 pm (UTC)Exactly. The understatedness of it was very well done too. Can't rush, yeah.