http://x-dazzler.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
x-dazzler.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
xp_logs2004-12-09 03:25 pm
x-dazzler.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2004-12-09 03:25 pm
Log [Alison, Madelyn] ~ It's the suit, I tell you...
Alison finally goes to the FBI regarding that matter about a pesky stalker with a rifle finally being in custody, with Madelyn along for moral support and for the sake of keeping an eye on her patient. It's the part involving the pub that doesn't go as smoothly, unfortunately.
The drive over had been spent mostly in silence, Alison trying not to fidget at the sound dampener hidden under the sleeve of her suit. The synthsilk underneath shielded her nicely and the modified earplugs Hank had whipped up did the rest of the word, since wearing the hood would be a little bit awkward. Alison dreaded walking into the FBI offices only to get stared at for blowing up a mall, but at least she was able to walk there under her own power. And her lawyer would be there, along with the minimal amount of people needed for a deposition, and no one else.
Pulling into a parking space in the area reserved for visitors - and didn't that seem odd, even after eighteen months? - Madelyn glanced over at Alison as she switched off the ignition. "Ready?" she asked quietly, used to the signs of tension in Alison by now to pick up when there was more than usual. "I'll be with you the whole time, remember."
"Yeah." Finally, Alison stopped looking straight ahead, turning a bit in her seat to face Madelyn. "Thank you for that. I really appreciate it." It was lame really, because of course Madelyn would be there and help, but it was something to say that didn't involve her starting to gibber in worry. "It's silly. Don't know why I'm so worried about this." Well, that it had to do with being out and it being near many people she didn't know might be it, but she wasn't admitting as much to herself.
"Okay. I remember how it was the first time, " Alison answered, taking a deep breath. "Agent Dobrinsky was nice. And scarily effective." She liked people, had hardly ever had issues with talking to them before. Even the first time around - the agent in charge had been helpful there, keeping things neat and organized. She smiled back and undid her own seatbelt, opening the door to step out. "Needs to be done. Maybe they won't need to question Doug... well, I can hope right?"
Madelyn nodded, grabbing her shoulder bag and dropping the car keys in it as she climbed out of the driver's seat. "Believe me, I'll be trying to avoid that one too - way too many complicated questions there, and it's the last thing Doug should get dragged into right now, if it can be helped." Closing the door and hitting the central
Madelyn nodded, grabbing her shoulder bag and dropping the car keys in it as she climbed out of the driver's seat. "Believe me, I'll be trying to avoid that one too - way too many complicated questions there, and it's the last thing Doug needs right now." Closing the door and hitting the central locking, she looked up at the building. Wow, nostalgia. "Dobrinsky's a good agent," she said, "From what I remember of him. So I think he'll see our point with Doug. Now, lets get this over and done with, shall we? Work first, then play - I have a treat in mind for you."
"They don't need Doug to testify. I hope. They've got his statement already." He'd been exposed to enough, already. Alison's name was already out there, known by those who cared about such thing. They didn't need to add another name to some random maniac's list. Taking a deep breath, Alison tugged the suit's jacket into place, not really noticing the pain in her shoulders at the motion. "Wait. Play?" That was one way to distract her from dark and serious, she thought, following Madelyn towards the entrance to the building.
"Mmm-hmm." Madelyn made an assenting noise, a teasing smile playing around the corners of her mouth. Time to give the Devil Woman some of her own medicine, so to speak. "Play. Relaxation. Possibly even some fun. You remember fun, right?"
Alison paused, sliding Madelyn a sidelong look. She knew that tone of voice - she'd used it often enough. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Lips quirking she focused on the door again, just as it swung open, Agent Dobrinsky stepping through and nodding in greeting as he spotted them.
"Ms Blaire, I'm glad you could make it," he said easily, coming forward to escort them around the metal detectors ? Madelyn had explained to him over the phone about Alison's condition and the dampener, in brief terms. "And this must be Doctor Bartlett. Pleased to meet you." He shook Madelyn's hand, and then gestured towards the elevators. "Shall we?"
"Uff," Madelyn said, stretching as they walked back down the steps several hours later. "I forgot how detailed those things can be. How are you pulling up?" she asked, turning her doctor's eyes on Alison. The other woman looked tired, certainly.
It had been as though something was still hanging over her head, that she could now slowly start to set aside. There were things left to do, she knew, but this was the turning step, it felt like. This made it real. "Tired," she admitted, but then smiled a bit. "Good. Want my surprise now." Alison turned a three-year old's pout on Madelyn, contemplating adding the dreaded puppy dog eyes on top of that if she seemed to not want to cooperate anymore.
"Well, if you're sure you're not too tired?" Madelyn began, and then giggled as the dreaded puppy dog eyes made an appearance. "Okay, okay? I thought, after all that, that rather than head straight back to the school, we could stop off at this bar I know, have something to eat, and possibly a drink? It's pretty quiet, or was the last time I was there."
There was a definite greedy cast to the look on Alison's face. "I get to pick whatever I want to eat?" Taste had stabilized recently, and while nothing in the world could possibly come close to Lorna's cooking, her friend still wouldn't have anything to do with certain kinds of food. Which people craved every now and then, of course. She started to smile, rather liking the idea. And if it was quiet that meant there wouldn't be too many people... "Eeeee!" It was a low, quiet sort of sound, but it denoted approval in a purely girlish sort of way.
"I won't tell Lorna about any fried food if you don't," Madelyn promised, snickering. She understood the look, having had it herself often enough. Sometimes you could only be satisfied by something truly horrifically bad for you. As long as it was only 'sometimes'. "It's just down here - close enough to the Bureau to drop by for lunch sometimes when I was here on training, " she said, steering them towards a smaller side-street. It was getting on for the end of the working day, and rush-hour traffic would choke the roads for a couple of hours yet. Best to let it go past and get back to the school later. 'Ernie's', declared the name painted on the large front window of a small sports bar half-way down the street.
Alison didn't exactly slink out of the car, but it was close. "I feel like a kid being given the chance to run wild in the city for the first time," she admitted, eyeing the bar almost predatorily. "First time I've been off mansion grounds since the shopping trip." There was no hesitation over the statement, and no apparent darkening of her emotions. "So tell me about the place," she grinned, walking around the car slowly. The seats would hurt like hell and there'd probably be too many people there for her taste yet, but Alison felt rather giddy now. Freeee!
Inside it was dim in the manner of all bars, and the television over the bar itself was tuned to a boxing match. There were maybe a dozen people in the place altogether, discounting the bar tender ? Madelyn recognised one or two faces as regulars, and nodded at them. The bartender was new, 'though, and actually kind of cute, in a farm boy kind of way. Not unlike Sam. She nudged Alison every-so-gently towards one of the booths near the front window. "Those are usually the most comfortable seats," she said. "Still nothing compared to that bed of yours, but hopefully they won't cripple you."
"Went to FBI. Did not blow up building. It's a good start to things!" Alison grinned and then made her way towards the area Madelyn had indicated, careful not to brush against anything on the way over. "And they can't be as worse as the chairs they had there. Ow. Oooow." Wrinkling her nose as that and certainly willing to put up with the seats here in comparison (fried food!) she grinned and winked at the red head. "You know, Haroun loathes that bed. Says it's hell on his back. Of course his bed is like a slab of rock, let me tell you." She was babbling and didn't care, relief at getting the preliminaries done with regarding the upcoming trial more than a little bit overwhelming. "This is a nice place," she added, looking around. "Hopefully I won't flare up while we're here."
"The minute you need a break, let me know and we'll go," Madelyn said, sprawling as best she could in the knee-length skirt of her suit. Gah, she hadn't missed that part of working for the Bureau - the dress code. "And why am I not surprised Haroun goes in for the martyr-style mattress?" Before Alison could answer the bartender came over and gave them an appreciative smile.
"Afternoon, ladies," he said. "What can I get you?"
"A bottle of Harp for me," Madelyn replied, straightening a little as she caught the young man's eye. Oh yes, very nice. She figured she could have one beer, especially with food, and still be fine to drive, even after the incident with Kurt. "And a couple of menus?"
Alison repressed a snicker as she noticed Madelyn's reaction, ordering a Perrier for herself while gifting the poor young man with a smile that was probably far too cheerful. Once he'd departed to get their drinks and menus, she grinned at Madelyn's attempts to slouch. "They make the skirts that way on purpose, you know? Learned it the hard way when I was preparing for law school." She was sitting ramrod straight, prim and proper as can be - far more because it was the best way to minimize the still lingering pain more than anything else. The dampeners set in her ears (just in case) were working fine, cutting out any background noise easily though she could hear Madelyn just fine, and the one she usually wore at her wrist was nicely hidden by the long sleeved blouse she was wearing.
"Evil things. At least in the field I got away with jeans since there's no way you can chase someone in a skirt, or properly investigate a crime scene. Whatever the TV tells you." Madelyn sighed and gave up her attempts to slouch, hearing in her head her mother's admonishment that real ladies had posture. Besides, she'd end up flashing the bar tender, and he was too cute for that kind of trauma. The door opened, and she glanced up at the group of young men who had come in, workers from the building site opposite, to judge from their grubby jeans and check shirts and heavy boots. Luckily they headed down to the pool tables at the back, away from where they were sitting, although anyone going to the bathroom would have to pass them. She caught Alison's amused look, and chuckled. "I'm all in Agent Bartlett mode, aren't I?"
With a solemn expression, Alison confirmed her words. "It's very cute." The vibrations caused by the tromping in of construction workers had caught Alison's attention before the men themselves did. She ignored them however, in favor of teasing Madelyn further. "You had the classic 'I'm one of the guys' slouch thing going there too." She leaned back slowly into her chair, the well worn padding still uncomfortable as she adjusted to the pressure. The bartender headed back their way at a determined paced, menus tucked under his arm, drinks neatly stacked on the tray he was holding up. "I think we're getting the full service," Alison whispered to Madelyn with a straight-face, pretending not to have noticed the man heading back their way.
Madelyn mock-glared at Alison as the bartender set down coasters before putting their drinks down, although she couldn't help a small giggle. "Looks like it," she agreed as he left again, promising to be right back for their food orders. "I think you dazzled him with the rockstar smile - he's all smitten now." The first sip of beer was heavenly - with a happy sigh, Madelyn leaned back, opening the menu on the table in front of her and heading straight past the albeit small salad selection to the artery-clogging fried food.
"No, no, no. It's the FBI aura about you. Men love a woman in a suit." It was probably mean of Alison to wait until Madelyn was actually taking another sip of beer to say that one, but at least she had the menu as a shield just in case something unfortunate happened. And the bartender was still close enough to charge back to Madelyn's aid if need be, something which he'd be more than glad to do given half a chance, she was sure.
Madelyn coughed, grabbing for a napkin as beer went up her nose. "I hate you," she said without heat. "You keep doing that." Finally no longer choking, she snuck a peek at the bartender, who was watching her, obviously waiting for them to finish choosing what to eat so he could come over again. He gave her a little smile as she caught his eye, and she looked away, blushing. "Gah," she said, intelligently. "Don't you ever get tired of being right?"
"Hey, we put him through the ultimate test just now. Watching you snort beer up your nose and lo and behold, the man is still smitten." Alison obligingly plucked another napkin from the table, grinning as she handed it to Madelyn. "And look! You didn't even spot your nice crisp and white blouse! That's got to be a bonus. The suit effect is still in operation."
"I'm going to kill you. Slowly and horribly and with much enjoyment at your suffering." Madelyn resisted the urge to crawl under the table and hide, instead using the menu to shield her flaming face. Oh yes, very professional she was. "What're you having?" she asked in a desperate and transparent attempt to change the subject away from the cute bartender and the effect of suits on men.
Alison glanced down at her menu only briefly, far too amused by Madelyn's reactions - it provided such a nice distraction from the way her skin kept protesting the weight of the clothing, even through the synthsilk she was wearing. "The fried chicken I think. With fries. Very greasy fries." Her appetite was slowly returning but she'd been dealing with solids for over two weeks now. "If I'm sick you can lug my sorry carcass home, right?" And after just the nicest of pauses. "Betcha if you ask the bartender to help you nicely, he'd do just about anything you asked..."
"If it wouldn't mean Haroun would pout at me, I'd make you walk home, you know," Madelyn said, exasperated but amused nonetheless. And a little pleased. It had been a while since someone had given her the sort of looks the bartender was giving... She snuck another peek. Yep, it was definitely her, if the little wink he'd given her was anything to go by. The blush was settling in - damn Irish ancestry. "I think I'll go for the calamari - it's not as messy as buffalo wings and I'd hate to ruin the feminine mystique by dripping sauce all over myself." Steeling herself, she looked up and deliberately caught the bartender's eye, and couldn't help a grin as he practically fell over himself to come back over, blatantly ignoring the construction worker who approached the bar at the same time.
It was still greasy finger food and my that had the potential to just set up worlds of havoc. Alison grinned innocently as Madelyn ordered first (of course), with much flourishing going on from the bartender improvised high class waiter, all with a dose of rather earnest charm. The fact that they'd had to do this, the FBI being unable to wait any longer was the biggest part of the reason Alison had been allowed out at all, but that the red head had still managed to turn
this into a treat, quiet pub and all, was nothing short of a miracle. Said quiet was interrupted for a moment however, by some grumblings Alison only caught the edges of from underneath the dampener which was still discreetly at work, the units tucked discreetly in her ears also going far to keep her from catching the details thereof. The bartender's back stiffened slightly though he took her order with the deliberate care before heading back towards the bar. "Did I miss something?" Alison blinked a bit, not looking back towards the other occupants of the bar.
Madelyn had flicked a look over at the construction worker who was now loudly complaining to the bartender about the lack of service. "Asshole making some noise," she replied, taking another sip of her beer. The bartender seemed to have things under control, she decided. "Apparently he had to wait all of five seconds before getting a beer." The worker settled down somewhat with the appearance of a pitcher and five glasses, and headed back over to his fellows, shooting a glance their way over their shoulder. Madelyn met it coolly, and then deliberately turned back to Alison. "So, how's your first day of freedom working out?"
Deciding to be kind, Alison forbore from making any jokes about men liking women in suits just now. It had nothing do to with her valuing her own life as well, of course. "A bit giddy at the fact that I've been allowed to roam free. Well, with someone to keep an eye on me," Alison grinned, a quiet thank you lurking in the words. "Wishing it had been for another reason than the FBI needing my testimony asap. And that Haroun were here instead of in Las Vegas," she added just a touch wistfully. Her recovery had been a mix of leaps forwards and plateaus each time she tried to push her power to the next level, but she still wished Haroun had been present to share her first day out, at least. Missions were missions though, she knew. "You know, a year ago I'd have carried on non-stop about him being dragged away on a mission while I was like this. Now..." Alison shrugged, matter of fact. "That's the way it is, I guess."
Madelyn nodded, a wry expression on her face. "That's the price of having the ability to fix things," she said. "Being on call, having to drop everything at a moment's notice, long hours away... it's hard on a relationship. But at least you and Haroun understand that." There might have been a touch of wistfulness in her tone, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "Moira's fretting about Nathan as well. And it doesn't help there are kids involved. I've got to say, I'm a little worried about them all myself. But Charles wouldn't have let them go if it wasn't important."
The wistfulness didn't go unnoticed, though Alison knew better than to point it out just now. Instead she just smiled and nodded, and kept her attention on the latter part of what Madelyn had to say, frowning just a bit in reaction. "Still wish I could be there. And I know, it's a bust on that," she sighed, not going into details which didn't really need going into. "And Charles wouldn't have let them go unless he was satisfied they'd be okay," she specified. "Otherwise he'd have just refused and another way would have had to be found." Shrugging just a bit, pain dancing along the skin of her shoulders and back without being acknowledged, Alison glanced towards the bar. "Looks like he's still staaaaring at you."
"I have to admit, I loaded Clarice up with first aid supplies," Madelyn said a little embarrassedly. "She's going to be the closest they have to a medic, apart from whatever Nathan, Haroun and Remy managed to pick up in the field. With any luck, she won't need to use any of it." She glanced across and confirmed that yes, the barman was indeed still staring at her as he wiped down the already-clean bar on that side. "If he gives me a napkin with his number on it, I'll die."
Oh, this was too easy. Though Alison had a notion that if anyone showed interest in Madelyn, Kurt would likely just pull a quick fade, since neither of them had actually realized anything at this point, from what she could tell. Even though they did tend to spend a lot of time together. "If he brings you his phone number on a napkin, I'm telling everyone at the mansion that you in a uniform clearly does a number on bartenders." It was bad of her to sound so smug and amused at this, but she was having fun and had no doubt Madelyn was too.
Madelyn whimpered slightly. "Do that and not even Haroun's pouting will save you," she warned, lips twitching a little. To get away from Alison's smug grin, she looked around the bar again, and frowned a little as she realised the construction workers were openly staring at Alison. Obviously some kind of debate was going on - she just hoped it was about their respective bra sizes and not anything more sinister.
In contrast, Alison didn't look when she noticed Madelyn glancing at the other side of the pub. Both of them staring would probably only draw trouble, or even worse be taken as an open invitation - not that she could hear what Madelyn had, however, the sound dampener still at work, just as it should be. And, she figured, it was probably a good thing too, since it meant not having to hear whatever was getting Madelyn's attention in quite that way. "Just ignore them and they'll go away?" she suggested, with an endearing pout. "Besides. I'm sure your mighty bartender will leap to our defense and distract them if they get too annoying."
"You're probably right. I'm getting paranoid in my old age..." Madelyn shrugged and returned her attention back to her beer, reminding herself this was a Bureau bar any way, and it wasn't likely anything would happen any way. "Any word from Haroun on how things are going?" she asked generally, changing the subject.
"Things are going well. The kids haven't blown up the casino, phooey to that I say." Alison grinned, entirely without remorse at the thought. "None of the really gaudy and heavy decorations have managed to fall on Remy's head. More phooey to that." And there was still a noticeable lack of remorse there as well. "I miss him, he misses me. We'll try and make up for it best we can when he gets back." She glanced down at the synthsilk covering her hands, the flesh toned version of the suit nearly invisible unless one knew what to look for.
"Vegas could do with a few more smoking craters instead of casinos," Madelyn agreed. "Although some of the kids might disagree - Jubilee was making jokes about becoming a showgirl." She rolled her eyes a little, then realised that the several coffees she'd had whilst Alison was giving her statements, plus the beer, were making themselves felt. "Excuse me for a sec? Bathroom," she said, sliding out of the booth. The bartender gave her a nod and a smile as she passed, and she barely noticed the construction workers in the slightly adolescent thrill that gave her - he was very cute. And younger than her.
The mention of smoking craters was carefully ignored until Madelyn was out of sight - only then did Alison let the smile fade from her face, looking down at the table with a somber expression. Normally, she would have noticed the approach of the swaggering man near the table. As it was, she only noticed him far to late, mostly because he slapped a hand on the table in front of her, the sound startling her briefly as her eyes snapped up to focus on him. If he was going to start with 'Hey babe' odds were high this wasn't going to be easy or fun, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of him before Madelyn got back. And she'd never live this down.
"Well, well, well." The man wasn't quite smiling and suddenly, Alison wished he'd started with 'hey babe' rather than this. There was something definitely unpleasant about the edge to his voice. "If it ain't Alison Blaire, mutie ex-superstar."
It was, she decided, oh so ironic that she'd just come back from the FBI about a case of mutant related discrimination (to put it lightly) only to end up with this happening afterwards.
Madelyn's eyes narrowed as she opened the bathroom door and saw the man leaning over Alison in a way that definitely wasn't to be considered friendly. "There's always one," she muttered, moving forward as fast as the damned skirt and heels would allow. Unfortunately, her path took her past the table with the man's companions, and one of them - the same one who had had to wait for a drink - rose to intercept her.
"John's just having a word with the rockstar," he said, grabbing her by the upper arms. "It won't take a minute. So why don't we leave them to it?"
"And why don't you keep your hands to yourself?" Madelyn retorted, jerking one arm away. At the bar, the cute bartender was trying to come to their aid, but another of the construction workers had neatly boxed him beside the bar by means of blocking the gap.
Tuning out what the man was saying for a moment, which wasn't that hard to do what with the sound dampeners helping out, Alison took in the scene in the bar. One ex-FBI agent in heels and a skirt being held off thataway. One increasingly irked looking bartender being blocked and kept from helping over there. Which meant two of the five were being kept busy with those respective 'duties' it seemed. That left the one currently blathering at her, along with two more sitting at
the table further off still - though one seemed to be intent on his companion and Madelyn, while the other was... staring at her. And my that wasn't a pleasant expression.
The others in the bar seemed intent on staying out of things, although she did notice an older gentleman had realized what was going on and seemed rather troubled with the proceedings.
"Hey! Are you listening to me?" Leaning down, John reached out and roughly turned her face so that she'd look at him, clearly furious with her lack of attention to whatever speech he'd been going through. Pain blossomed under the careless touch, radiating outwards fiercely.
"Actually, no. I wasn't. I have better things to do." Alison bit out the words stiffly, taking a deep breath before reaching up to quietly take a hold of his hand. She was almost gently really, even as she suddenly dug her fingers in the fleshy part of his hand, pinching the muscle in the hollow between thumb and index. Hard. That hurt too, but it hurt less now that he'd let go of her, eyes widening at the startling amount of pain he was suddenly feeling in his hand. "I don't suppose we could settle this like civilized human beings?" she asked, more than a little peevishly. Pain did that to her, along with the prospect of her first day out since blowing up being utterly ruined.
The man grabbed Madelyn's arm again, rougher this time. "Why all the concern over a mutie? John's not going to hurt her... much. Just remind her decent folks don't want to have to look at scum like her when they're eating..." His rant was cut off neatly by Madelyn's knee connecting soundly with his groin - the skirt didn't restrict that movement. His eyes rolled up in his head and he made a sound very much like 'gni'. With no small amount of satisfaction, Madelyn followed up with an elbow strike across his jaw - she didn't want to damage her hands on a moron like this - and watched as he dropped like a tree.
"And the stupid thing? You have no idea if I have powers or not, or what they are, and you still grab me." Shaking her head at the fallen man, Madelyn glared at the two remaining workers. "Now, are you going to be sensible, or is this going to get messy?"
For a moment it seemed sense would win out, but then masculine pride reared its ugly head and the remaining two men clambered to their feet, making ominous growling noises. They weren't abnormally large, but they were well-built and strong-looking, and Madelyn sighed. "Okay, messy it is."
Alison's cheek wasn't hurting quite so much anymore although pain was starting to very persistently blaze from her fingertips, although she suspected it wasn't entirely pleasant for dear John either, from the inarticulate sounds of anguish he was making. Still, her own hand was about to go dumb damn it, and there were already signs of a scuffle - no, scratch that, they were beyond signs, judging from the look on the face of the man Madelyn had just laid down. Hard. "Ow. That looks like it hurt." Still, two against one over there. Although she figured Madelyn could hold her own against untrained men, which was clearly what they were from the way they were moving, Alison still didn't like the odds. At least the bartender seemed to have the fifth man rather busy, she noticed from the corner of her eye.
"So, do you want to-" Her question to John was interrupted by a fist nearly slamming into her shoulder, Alison barely diverting it to the side with the flat of her hand at the very last second. Ow. That had hurt. A lot. And she didn't have the same strength as before, that was clear. And diverting the blow meant she'd had to let go of her grip on his hand, which was all sorts of not good.
"Not so smug anymore now are you, mutie." The man's voice was low, with undertones of hate and violence Alison knew only too well. It had been like that, only with so many more, when she'd first come out, over a year ago. Crowds of people feeling just as he did.
He was a sad thing to look at, really.
"Madelyn." It was a question really so much as a statement, Alison moving back from the man slowly, eyes never leaving him as he pushed off the table to follow. Talk to me.
"Be right there," Madelyn replied, almost conversationally, although her eyes hadn't left the two men approaching her. She backed towards Alison slowly, wanting a bit more room than what she had. I really, really miss my gun right now. Well, when in doubt, bluff... "I don't suppose it occurred to you boys that having FBI headquarters just around the corner means that it's a regular hang out for agents? Are you really wanting to have that kind of trouble?"
The two men hesitated, but John wasn't fazed. "If you were FBI, you'd have called for back-up already, bitch. And I don't see anyone coming to your rescue now, do you?"
"Who said we needed the rescuing?" Madelyn spared a glance at Alison. "So much for my quiet bar, hey, Al? Next time you pick the place."
"At least the bartender has the hots for you," Alison replied, voice somehow managing to carry over to Madelyn just fine. You could muffle a singer's voice only so much, apparently. A strangled sound from the bar proved that admirably well. Use of powers, not that she could do much with them, would be the worst possible thing to do right now. Sighing, Alison shook her head, stopping her own backwards walk the moment she felt Madelyn's back brush against her own, almost causing her to step forward in reflex to get away from the brief flare of discomfort the light touch caused. Right now, giving in to those reflexes would be a bad thing, she knew.
"Next time, we're going to the ritziest restaurant in town," she offered, leaning her head to the side just a bit as she inched to the side, wanting to keep an eye on all three of the men nearing them now. John still had the bulk of her attention though. John would be a very unhappy man for this. "My treat. There's gotta be some perks to be in a filthy rich ex-rockstar." The comment was far more about pushing their new 'friends' into doing something stupid more than anything else, really. "Because being hassled by some idiot low lives with nothing better to do than try and ruin my lunch sure isn't one of thems." She tensed in anticipation, preparing herself for the fact that whatever happened, she was going to hurt.
Incredibly, Madelyn began to laugh. "They never told you about the hassle factor when you signed up? Shame on them." Then one of the men rushed at her - it was obvious they were untrained, since otherwise they would have both attacked - and she shifted her weight slightly to let the haymaker he swung at her head avoid her before reciprocating with a short jab that broke his nose and sent him stumbling back slightly, clutching at his bleeding face and swearing. With his hands occupied, there were all sorts of targets - Madelyn went to kick him under the knee, remembered the damn skirt, and with a mental curse of her own hiked it up slightly so she had more freedom of movement. There was a crunch as patent leather shoe connected and forced the patella up into places it wasn't meant to go. The cursing turned into an almost girlish scream and as the man fell to his knees, Madelyn grabbed his head and kneed him under the chin, dropping him almost casually. "Are you sure you want to continue this?" she asked the remaining man. "You know girls fight dirty, don't you?"
Hesitation was fast turning to doubt, and the man looked nervously between John and Madelyn. There was the sound of breaking glass and a thump from the bar, and the man blocking the bartender collapsed slowly into a pile of broken bottle. The bartender looked almost apologetically at them, the end of the bottle still in his hand. "Couldn't reach anything sooner," he said.
That was enough for John's remaining upright friend - he bolted from the bar without looking back. Leaving John to face one very pissed off and in pain former rockstar, and one equally pissed off former FBI agent whose patient he had been manhandling.
Hands still smarting from the punches she'd deflected from John's unskilled but very fervent attempts to hit her, while Madelyn took his friend down hard, Alison raised an eyebrow in silent question. "Betcha he goes for a chair," she murmured, the sound dampener eating her words for the most part, oh so conveniently allowing only Madelyn to hear what she'd said. And sure enough, after taking a step back, John went for the chair, picking it up with a defiant snarl.
Shaking her head, Alison nudged Madelyn warningly, sparing a vague hope that the man who'd run outside hadn't actually gone for anything like oh, reinforcements. The first swing of the chair Alison simply ducked, hissing in discontent at the way her skin protested the sharp motions and the way her clothing tugged and scraped against the synthsilk. The second swing clipped her against the shoulder, mostly because moving back too much meant exposing Madelyn and Alison wasn't too keen on doing that - and the resulting pain brought a decidedly angry glint to her expression the second she managed to remember to breathe again. "Mine. Make sure the one that split doesn't bring back any buddies, huh?"
"Okay. Just be careful, hmm? Forge will be cranky if you break his shiny toy." It was as much of a caution to be careful of the dampener Madelyn could give without giving away Alison's weakened position. Over by the bar she could see the bartender on the phone, hopefully to the police. Definitely hopefully to the police, she mentally added, as sudden movement over by the construction site down the street resolved itself into several more workers, none of whom looked happy. The man who had fled was with them, gesturing wildly as he no doubt told the story of the Evil Mutant Harpies who had attacked their buddies without provocation. "Okay, we're looking at a possible mob here. Please tell me you have some direct phone numbers to your regulars?" she called across to the bartender, focussing on keeping her tone light. "The sort with badges and guns and scary training?"
"I'm perfectly happy playing duck the moron here," Alison called out over her shoulder, doing just that as the chair swung wildly once more, sparing a glance for John's buddies now crossing the street with ugly expressions. It was a lie, really - it hurt more than anything else, but she grimly kept going. She overheard the bartender cheerfully chant out a number that probably meant something to Madelyn, and made a mental note to have a thank you note and possibly a present sent to the man, for all the trouble he was being put through. And the FBI offices were what, two blocks away?
"Do you really want to do this," she asked John, who had just swung the chair at her head with a very determined 'will take your head off' sort of momentum. Backing up that much more, Alison glanced at the door - still had time and he was following her nicely about like a good little idiot. The next swing she didn't duck but instead moved towards, latching on to his arm to pull herself forward and then push him into the motion he'd started with a firm shove to the shoulder. OW. The resulting stagger forward, right into the thick oaken slab of wood which served as one of the supporting struts of the bar made for a very nice and solid sounding thump however. The chair fell to the ground with a crash and Alison walked back towards Madelyn, wincing with every step. "Next time I say mine, don't listen to me?"
Turning to look at the doorway, she groaned lowly at the newest arrivals. Sure, they could handle it, but it wouldn't be fun. And being in a full out bar brawl would be acutely embarrassing and was that man hefting a tire iron?
"That's it. I've had it." Alison blinked at that, the bartender's comment sounding rather annoyed, but it was the heavy sound of a shotgun being pumped which caused her to stare at him as he brought the weapon out. "I've got a license for this, gentlemen. And my boss will be mighty peeved with me if I let anyone mess up his place, you know?"
"Well." Seriously considering batting her eyes at the man while edging off to the side and out of his line of fire along with Madelyn, Alison grinned just a bit. "Would you look at that."
"I'll remind you you said that next time," Madelyn told her with the smug grin of someone who knows the cavalry are about to charge over the hill. "And I think I'm in love," she murmured lower, nodding towards the bartender. "Gotta like a man who is polite while threatening someone with a shotgun..."
"Those muties attacked our guys!" retorted one of the new arrivals, the one with the tire iron. Trust the one with the weapon to be the spokesman. "You can't just let them get away with it!"
"And you think a lynch mob is the way to go, hmm? How very enlightened of you," Madelyn replied, unable to stop the smirk as she saw several cars pull up outside the bar and what seemed an entire squad of agents came pouring out. It was rather like those clowns in the little cars, only with suits and guns.
"Wow, I didn't know you could become a mutant just like that. Must be osmosis or something, huh? Wait. They probably don't know what that means anyway." Alison slid an amused look at Madelyn, carefully hiding away the fact that she was hurting for later. The shotgun disappeared underneath the counter with alacrity as several men in suits tromped into the bar, none of them looking pleased in the least.
"Oh no." Alison winced as she stopped the latest arrival, stalking inside with a distinctly aggrieved expression. The man ignored the troublemakers, several of which were now being stared down and very politely asked to step outside by the federal agents, and instead made a beeline for the two women and the bartender.
"Hey Zach." A glance at the counter showed that 1) the agent knew exactly what was there and 2) was going to ignore it quite handily as long as it was out of sight, judging by the cheerful grin on the bartender-apparently-named-Zach's face. He then turned to eyeball Alison and Madelyn, crossing his arms while giving them a stern look.
"I always told you you were contagious..." Madelyn gave the agent a slightly-embarrassed look. "Hello, Dobrinksy. It's been a while. All of a couple of hours..."
"Ladies." Behind Dobrinsky other agents were picking up the more unconscious trouble makers and hustling them outside. "You know, if this becomes a habit, I might just have to consider protective custody."
"For their protection or ours?" Madelyn asked with a hint of a grin. "They did start it. We were just trying to have a quiet drink."
"Definitely theirs," Zach piped up from behind the bar, looking very much like a man smitten. "You've got one hell of a punch, miss."
Fiercely amused at that and now one possessing ungodly levels of blackmail, Alison tried not to snicker. This was aided by the fact that sitting down was about to become a serious priority, just until she caught her breath. And maybe things quieted down and hurt less. At least the people were all going out and the sudden realization that she had been starting to feel distinctly crowded drew a small frown from her.
Taking a few steps, Alison casually leaned against one of the barstools near the bar, giving Dobrinsky a somewhat tight smile. They'd been through the whole protective custody thing before, after all. "Hey. At least it's the first time this happens to me in a bar?" she offered, hoping she wasn't sounding too casual and trying to avoid bitter at all costs. Catching Madelyn's attention, she tried not to look too pleading as she mouthed the word 'Home?' at her discreetly.
banter to her doctor voice. "Do you need statements from both of us, or are mine and Zach's enough? And can we do that later? Those health issues I mentioned before... we should get back." she said to Dobrinsky. "You've got my number at the school - just let me know when you want me to come in."
Dobrinsky nodded. "It depends what our investigation turns up, but I think you and Zach should be enough. I'll let you know. Just... drive safe and don't stop off anywhere else, all right? I think you've had your bigot quota for the day."
"Definitely," Madelyn agreed. She moved to Alison's side, carefully not touching her but there if the other woman needed a helping hand. "No greasy food today. Always greasy food tomorrow," she said with a slight pout.
The mention of greasy food made Alison feel queasy more than anything else at this point, though she did spare a smile for Dobrinsky as she carefully made her way towards the exit, very much aware of Madelyn staying close by. John and his friends would probably be turned over to the local cops before long, and she was willing to bet an officer could simply be sent down to the mansion to take any statement that might be needed, although at this point Alison didn't care. It could be dealt with later.
"Hooome," she crooned to herself softly as they stepped outside and headed towards the car, Alison increasing her pace despite the lingering ache. The fresh air did her good, as did the bright sunlight outside, and she grinned a bit at Madelyn. "Betcha Zach tries to get your number off Dobrinsky."
"Why else do you think I made sure he heard me say that?" Madelyn asked not-so-innocently, fishing the keys out of her bag.
The drive over had been spent mostly in silence, Alison trying not to fidget at the sound dampener hidden under the sleeve of her suit. The synthsilk underneath shielded her nicely and the modified earplugs Hank had whipped up did the rest of the word, since wearing the hood would be a little bit awkward. Alison dreaded walking into the FBI offices only to get stared at for blowing up a mall, but at least she was able to walk there under her own power. And her lawyer would be there, along with the minimal amount of people needed for a deposition, and no one else.
Pulling into a parking space in the area reserved for visitors - and didn't that seem odd, even after eighteen months? - Madelyn glanced over at Alison as she switched off the ignition. "Ready?" she asked quietly, used to the signs of tension in Alison by now to pick up when there was more than usual. "I'll be with you the whole time, remember."
"Yeah." Finally, Alison stopped looking straight ahead, turning a bit in her seat to face Madelyn. "Thank you for that. I really appreciate it." It was lame really, because of course Madelyn would be there and help, but it was something to say that didn't involve her starting to gibber in worry. "It's silly. Don't know why I'm so worried about this." Well, that it had to do with being out and it being near many people she didn't know might be it, but she wasn't admitting as much to herself.
"Okay. I remember how it was the first time, " Alison answered, taking a deep breath. "Agent Dobrinsky was nice. And scarily effective." She liked people, had hardly ever had issues with talking to them before. Even the first time around - the agent in charge had been helpful there, keeping things neat and organized. She smiled back and undid her own seatbelt, opening the door to step out. "Needs to be done. Maybe they won't need to question Doug... well, I can hope right?"
Madelyn nodded, grabbing her shoulder bag and dropping the car keys in it as she climbed out of the driver's seat. "Believe me, I'll be trying to avoid that one too - way too many complicated questions there, and it's the last thing Doug should get dragged into right now, if it can be helped." Closing the door and hitting the central
Madelyn nodded, grabbing her shoulder bag and dropping the car keys in it as she climbed out of the driver's seat. "Believe me, I'll be trying to avoid that one too - way too many complicated questions there, and it's the last thing Doug needs right now." Closing the door and hitting the central locking, she looked up at the building. Wow, nostalgia. "Dobrinsky's a good agent," she said, "From what I remember of him. So I think he'll see our point with Doug. Now, lets get this over and done with, shall we? Work first, then play - I have a treat in mind for you."
"They don't need Doug to testify. I hope. They've got his statement already." He'd been exposed to enough, already. Alison's name was already out there, known by those who cared about such thing. They didn't need to add another name to some random maniac's list. Taking a deep breath, Alison tugged the suit's jacket into place, not really noticing the pain in her shoulders at the motion. "Wait. Play?" That was one way to distract her from dark and serious, she thought, following Madelyn towards the entrance to the building.
"Mmm-hmm." Madelyn made an assenting noise, a teasing smile playing around the corners of her mouth. Time to give the Devil Woman some of her own medicine, so to speak. "Play. Relaxation. Possibly even some fun. You remember fun, right?"
Alison paused, sliding Madelyn a sidelong look. She knew that tone of voice - she'd used it often enough. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Lips quirking she focused on the door again, just as it swung open, Agent Dobrinsky stepping through and nodding in greeting as he spotted them.
"Ms Blaire, I'm glad you could make it," he said easily, coming forward to escort them around the metal detectors ? Madelyn had explained to him over the phone about Alison's condition and the dampener, in brief terms. "And this must be Doctor Bartlett. Pleased to meet you." He shook Madelyn's hand, and then gestured towards the elevators. "Shall we?"
*********************
"Uff," Madelyn said, stretching as they walked back down the steps several hours later. "I forgot how detailed those things can be. How are you pulling up?" she asked, turning her doctor's eyes on Alison. The other woman looked tired, certainly.
It had been as though something was still hanging over her head, that she could now slowly start to set aside. There were things left to do, she knew, but this was the turning step, it felt like. This made it real. "Tired," she admitted, but then smiled a bit. "Good. Want my surprise now." Alison turned a three-year old's pout on Madelyn, contemplating adding the dreaded puppy dog eyes on top of that if she seemed to not want to cooperate anymore.
"Well, if you're sure you're not too tired?" Madelyn began, and then giggled as the dreaded puppy dog eyes made an appearance. "Okay, okay? I thought, after all that, that rather than head straight back to the school, we could stop off at this bar I know, have something to eat, and possibly a drink? It's pretty quiet, or was the last time I was there."
There was a definite greedy cast to the look on Alison's face. "I get to pick whatever I want to eat?" Taste had stabilized recently, and while nothing in the world could possibly come close to Lorna's cooking, her friend still wouldn't have anything to do with certain kinds of food. Which people craved every now and then, of course. She started to smile, rather liking the idea. And if it was quiet that meant there wouldn't be too many people... "Eeeee!" It was a low, quiet sort of sound, but it denoted approval in a purely girlish sort of way.
"I won't tell Lorna about any fried food if you don't," Madelyn promised, snickering. She understood the look, having had it herself often enough. Sometimes you could only be satisfied by something truly horrifically bad for you. As long as it was only 'sometimes'. "It's just down here - close enough to the Bureau to drop by for lunch sometimes when I was here on training, " she said, steering them towards a smaller side-street. It was getting on for the end of the working day, and rush-hour traffic would choke the roads for a couple of hours yet. Best to let it go past and get back to the school later. 'Ernie's', declared the name painted on the large front window of a small sports bar half-way down the street.
Alison didn't exactly slink out of the car, but it was close. "I feel like a kid being given the chance to run wild in the city for the first time," she admitted, eyeing the bar almost predatorily. "First time I've been off mansion grounds since the shopping trip." There was no hesitation over the statement, and no apparent darkening of her emotions. "So tell me about the place," she grinned, walking around the car slowly. The seats would hurt like hell and there'd probably be too many people there for her taste yet, but Alison felt rather giddy now. Freeee!
Inside it was dim in the manner of all bars, and the television over the bar itself was tuned to a boxing match. There were maybe a dozen people in the place altogether, discounting the bar tender ? Madelyn recognised one or two faces as regulars, and nodded at them. The bartender was new, 'though, and actually kind of cute, in a farm boy kind of way. Not unlike Sam. She nudged Alison every-so-gently towards one of the booths near the front window. "Those are usually the most comfortable seats," she said. "Still nothing compared to that bed of yours, but hopefully they won't cripple you."
"Went to FBI. Did not blow up building. It's a good start to things!" Alison grinned and then made her way towards the area Madelyn had indicated, careful not to brush against anything on the way over. "And they can't be as worse as the chairs they had there. Ow. Oooow." Wrinkling her nose as that and certainly willing to put up with the seats here in comparison (fried food!) she grinned and winked at the red head. "You know, Haroun loathes that bed. Says it's hell on his back. Of course his bed is like a slab of rock, let me tell you." She was babbling and didn't care, relief at getting the preliminaries done with regarding the upcoming trial more than a little bit overwhelming. "This is a nice place," she added, looking around. "Hopefully I won't flare up while we're here."
"The minute you need a break, let me know and we'll go," Madelyn said, sprawling as best she could in the knee-length skirt of her suit. Gah, she hadn't missed that part of working for the Bureau - the dress code. "And why am I not surprised Haroun goes in for the martyr-style mattress?" Before Alison could answer the bartender came over and gave them an appreciative smile.
"Afternoon, ladies," he said. "What can I get you?"
"A bottle of Harp for me," Madelyn replied, straightening a little as she caught the young man's eye. Oh yes, very nice. She figured she could have one beer, especially with food, and still be fine to drive, even after the incident with Kurt. "And a couple of menus?"
Alison repressed a snicker as she noticed Madelyn's reaction, ordering a Perrier for herself while gifting the poor young man with a smile that was probably far too cheerful. Once he'd departed to get their drinks and menus, she grinned at Madelyn's attempts to slouch. "They make the skirts that way on purpose, you know? Learned it the hard way when I was preparing for law school." She was sitting ramrod straight, prim and proper as can be - far more because it was the best way to minimize the still lingering pain more than anything else. The dampeners set in her ears (just in case) were working fine, cutting out any background noise easily though she could hear Madelyn just fine, and the one she usually wore at her wrist was nicely hidden by the long sleeved blouse she was wearing.
"Evil things. At least in the field I got away with jeans since there's no way you can chase someone in a skirt, or properly investigate a crime scene. Whatever the TV tells you." Madelyn sighed and gave up her attempts to slouch, hearing in her head her mother's admonishment that real ladies had posture. Besides, she'd end up flashing the bar tender, and he was too cute for that kind of trauma. The door opened, and she glanced up at the group of young men who had come in, workers from the building site opposite, to judge from their grubby jeans and check shirts and heavy boots. Luckily they headed down to the pool tables at the back, away from where they were sitting, although anyone going to the bathroom would have to pass them. She caught Alison's amused look, and chuckled. "I'm all in Agent Bartlett mode, aren't I?"
With a solemn expression, Alison confirmed her words. "It's very cute." The vibrations caused by the tromping in of construction workers had caught Alison's attention before the men themselves did. She ignored them however, in favor of teasing Madelyn further. "You had the classic 'I'm one of the guys' slouch thing going there too." She leaned back slowly into her chair, the well worn padding still uncomfortable as she adjusted to the pressure. The bartender headed back their way at a determined paced, menus tucked under his arm, drinks neatly stacked on the tray he was holding up. "I think we're getting the full service," Alison whispered to Madelyn with a straight-face, pretending not to have noticed the man heading back their way.
Madelyn mock-glared at Alison as the bartender set down coasters before putting their drinks down, although she couldn't help a small giggle. "Looks like it," she agreed as he left again, promising to be right back for their food orders. "I think you dazzled him with the rockstar smile - he's all smitten now." The first sip of beer was heavenly - with a happy sigh, Madelyn leaned back, opening the menu on the table in front of her and heading straight past the albeit small salad selection to the artery-clogging fried food.
"No, no, no. It's the FBI aura about you. Men love a woman in a suit." It was probably mean of Alison to wait until Madelyn was actually taking another sip of beer to say that one, but at least she had the menu as a shield just in case something unfortunate happened. And the bartender was still close enough to charge back to Madelyn's aid if need be, something which he'd be more than glad to do given half a chance, she was sure.
Madelyn coughed, grabbing for a napkin as beer went up her nose. "I hate you," she said without heat. "You keep doing that." Finally no longer choking, she snuck a peek at the bartender, who was watching her, obviously waiting for them to finish choosing what to eat so he could come over again. He gave her a little smile as she caught his eye, and she looked away, blushing. "Gah," she said, intelligently. "Don't you ever get tired of being right?"
"Hey, we put him through the ultimate test just now. Watching you snort beer up your nose and lo and behold, the man is still smitten." Alison obligingly plucked another napkin from the table, grinning as she handed it to Madelyn. "And look! You didn't even spot your nice crisp and white blouse! That's got to be a bonus. The suit effect is still in operation."
"I'm going to kill you. Slowly and horribly and with much enjoyment at your suffering." Madelyn resisted the urge to crawl under the table and hide, instead using the menu to shield her flaming face. Oh yes, very professional she was. "What're you having?" she asked in a desperate and transparent attempt to change the subject away from the cute bartender and the effect of suits on men.
Alison glanced down at her menu only briefly, far too amused by Madelyn's reactions - it provided such a nice distraction from the way her skin kept protesting the weight of the clothing, even through the synthsilk she was wearing. "The fried chicken I think. With fries. Very greasy fries." Her appetite was slowly returning but she'd been dealing with solids for over two weeks now. "If I'm sick you can lug my sorry carcass home, right?" And after just the nicest of pauses. "Betcha if you ask the bartender to help you nicely, he'd do just about anything you asked..."
"If it wouldn't mean Haroun would pout at me, I'd make you walk home, you know," Madelyn said, exasperated but amused nonetheless. And a little pleased. It had been a while since someone had given her the sort of looks the bartender was giving... She snuck another peek. Yep, it was definitely her, if the little wink he'd given her was anything to go by. The blush was settling in - damn Irish ancestry. "I think I'll go for the calamari - it's not as messy as buffalo wings and I'd hate to ruin the feminine mystique by dripping sauce all over myself." Steeling herself, she looked up and deliberately caught the bartender's eye, and couldn't help a grin as he practically fell over himself to come back over, blatantly ignoring the construction worker who approached the bar at the same time.
It was still greasy finger food and my that had the potential to just set up worlds of havoc. Alison grinned innocently as Madelyn ordered first (of course), with much flourishing going on from the bartender improvised high class waiter, all with a dose of rather earnest charm. The fact that they'd had to do this, the FBI being unable to wait any longer was the biggest part of the reason Alison had been allowed out at all, but that the red head had still managed to turn
this into a treat, quiet pub and all, was nothing short of a miracle. Said quiet was interrupted for a moment however, by some grumblings Alison only caught the edges of from underneath the dampener which was still discreetly at work, the units tucked discreetly in her ears also going far to keep her from catching the details thereof. The bartender's back stiffened slightly though he took her order with the deliberate care before heading back towards the bar. "Did I miss something?" Alison blinked a bit, not looking back towards the other occupants of the bar.
Madelyn had flicked a look over at the construction worker who was now loudly complaining to the bartender about the lack of service. "Asshole making some noise," she replied, taking another sip of her beer. The bartender seemed to have things under control, she decided. "Apparently he had to wait all of five seconds before getting a beer." The worker settled down somewhat with the appearance of a pitcher and five glasses, and headed back over to his fellows, shooting a glance their way over their shoulder. Madelyn met it coolly, and then deliberately turned back to Alison. "So, how's your first day of freedom working out?"
Deciding to be kind, Alison forbore from making any jokes about men liking women in suits just now. It had nothing do to with her valuing her own life as well, of course. "A bit giddy at the fact that I've been allowed to roam free. Well, with someone to keep an eye on me," Alison grinned, a quiet thank you lurking in the words. "Wishing it had been for another reason than the FBI needing my testimony asap. And that Haroun were here instead of in Las Vegas," she added just a touch wistfully. Her recovery had been a mix of leaps forwards and plateaus each time she tried to push her power to the next level, but she still wished Haroun had been present to share her first day out, at least. Missions were missions though, she knew. "You know, a year ago I'd have carried on non-stop about him being dragged away on a mission while I was like this. Now..." Alison shrugged, matter of fact. "That's the way it is, I guess."
Madelyn nodded, a wry expression on her face. "That's the price of having the ability to fix things," she said. "Being on call, having to drop everything at a moment's notice, long hours away... it's hard on a relationship. But at least you and Haroun understand that." There might have been a touch of wistfulness in her tone, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "Moira's fretting about Nathan as well. And it doesn't help there are kids involved. I've got to say, I'm a little worried about them all myself. But Charles wouldn't have let them go if it wasn't important."
The wistfulness didn't go unnoticed, though Alison knew better than to point it out just now. Instead she just smiled and nodded, and kept her attention on the latter part of what Madelyn had to say, frowning just a bit in reaction. "Still wish I could be there. And I know, it's a bust on that," she sighed, not going into details which didn't really need going into. "And Charles wouldn't have let them go unless he was satisfied they'd be okay," she specified. "Otherwise he'd have just refused and another way would have had to be found." Shrugging just a bit, pain dancing along the skin of her shoulders and back without being acknowledged, Alison glanced towards the bar. "Looks like he's still staaaaring at you."
"I have to admit, I loaded Clarice up with first aid supplies," Madelyn said a little embarrassedly. "She's going to be the closest they have to a medic, apart from whatever Nathan, Haroun and Remy managed to pick up in the field. With any luck, she won't need to use any of it." She glanced across and confirmed that yes, the barman was indeed still staring at her as he wiped down the already-clean bar on that side. "If he gives me a napkin with his number on it, I'll die."
Oh, this was too easy. Though Alison had a notion that if anyone showed interest in Madelyn, Kurt would likely just pull a quick fade, since neither of them had actually realized anything at this point, from what she could tell. Even though they did tend to spend a lot of time together. "If he brings you his phone number on a napkin, I'm telling everyone at the mansion that you in a uniform clearly does a number on bartenders." It was bad of her to sound so smug and amused at this, but she was having fun and had no doubt Madelyn was too.
Madelyn whimpered slightly. "Do that and not even Haroun's pouting will save you," she warned, lips twitching a little. To get away from Alison's smug grin, she looked around the bar again, and frowned a little as she realised the construction workers were openly staring at Alison. Obviously some kind of debate was going on - she just hoped it was about their respective bra sizes and not anything more sinister.
In contrast, Alison didn't look when she noticed Madelyn glancing at the other side of the pub. Both of them staring would probably only draw trouble, or even worse be taken as an open invitation - not that she could hear what Madelyn had, however, the sound dampener still at work, just as it should be. And, she figured, it was probably a good thing too, since it meant not having to hear whatever was getting Madelyn's attention in quite that way. "Just ignore them and they'll go away?" she suggested, with an endearing pout. "Besides. I'm sure your mighty bartender will leap to our defense and distract them if they get too annoying."
"You're probably right. I'm getting paranoid in my old age..." Madelyn shrugged and returned her attention back to her beer, reminding herself this was a Bureau bar any way, and it wasn't likely anything would happen any way. "Any word from Haroun on how things are going?" she asked generally, changing the subject.
"Things are going well. The kids haven't blown up the casino, phooey to that I say." Alison grinned, entirely without remorse at the thought. "None of the really gaudy and heavy decorations have managed to fall on Remy's head. More phooey to that." And there was still a noticeable lack of remorse there as well. "I miss him, he misses me. We'll try and make up for it best we can when he gets back." She glanced down at the synthsilk covering her hands, the flesh toned version of the suit nearly invisible unless one knew what to look for.
"Vegas could do with a few more smoking craters instead of casinos," Madelyn agreed. "Although some of the kids might disagree - Jubilee was making jokes about becoming a showgirl." She rolled her eyes a little, then realised that the several coffees she'd had whilst Alison was giving her statements, plus the beer, were making themselves felt. "Excuse me for a sec? Bathroom," she said, sliding out of the booth. The bartender gave her a nod and a smile as she passed, and she barely noticed the construction workers in the slightly adolescent thrill that gave her - he was very cute. And younger than her.
The mention of smoking craters was carefully ignored until Madelyn was out of sight - only then did Alison let the smile fade from her face, looking down at the table with a somber expression. Normally, she would have noticed the approach of the swaggering man near the table. As it was, she only noticed him far to late, mostly because he slapped a hand on the table in front of her, the sound startling her briefly as her eyes snapped up to focus on him. If he was going to start with 'Hey babe' odds were high this wasn't going to be easy or fun, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of him before Madelyn got back. And she'd never live this down.
"Well, well, well." The man wasn't quite smiling and suddenly, Alison wished he'd started with 'hey babe' rather than this. There was something definitely unpleasant about the edge to his voice. "If it ain't Alison Blaire, mutie ex-superstar."
It was, she decided, oh so ironic that she'd just come back from the FBI about a case of mutant related discrimination (to put it lightly) only to end up with this happening afterwards.
Madelyn's eyes narrowed as she opened the bathroom door and saw the man leaning over Alison in a way that definitely wasn't to be considered friendly. "There's always one," she muttered, moving forward as fast as the damned skirt and heels would allow. Unfortunately, her path took her past the table with the man's companions, and one of them - the same one who had had to wait for a drink - rose to intercept her.
"John's just having a word with the rockstar," he said, grabbing her by the upper arms. "It won't take a minute. So why don't we leave them to it?"
"And why don't you keep your hands to yourself?" Madelyn retorted, jerking one arm away. At the bar, the cute bartender was trying to come to their aid, but another of the construction workers had neatly boxed him beside the bar by means of blocking the gap.
Tuning out what the man was saying for a moment, which wasn't that hard to do what with the sound dampeners helping out, Alison took in the scene in the bar. One ex-FBI agent in heels and a skirt being held off thataway. One increasingly irked looking bartender being blocked and kept from helping over there. Which meant two of the five were being kept busy with those respective 'duties' it seemed. That left the one currently blathering at her, along with two more sitting at
the table further off still - though one seemed to be intent on his companion and Madelyn, while the other was... staring at her. And my that wasn't a pleasant expression.
The others in the bar seemed intent on staying out of things, although she did notice an older gentleman had realized what was going on and seemed rather troubled with the proceedings.
"Hey! Are you listening to me?" Leaning down, John reached out and roughly turned her face so that she'd look at him, clearly furious with her lack of attention to whatever speech he'd been going through. Pain blossomed under the careless touch, radiating outwards fiercely.
"Actually, no. I wasn't. I have better things to do." Alison bit out the words stiffly, taking a deep breath before reaching up to quietly take a hold of his hand. She was almost gently really, even as she suddenly dug her fingers in the fleshy part of his hand, pinching the muscle in the hollow between thumb and index. Hard. That hurt too, but it hurt less now that he'd let go of her, eyes widening at the startling amount of pain he was suddenly feeling in his hand. "I don't suppose we could settle this like civilized human beings?" she asked, more than a little peevishly. Pain did that to her, along with the prospect of her first day out since blowing up being utterly ruined.
The man grabbed Madelyn's arm again, rougher this time. "Why all the concern over a mutie? John's not going to hurt her... much. Just remind her decent folks don't want to have to look at scum like her when they're eating..." His rant was cut off neatly by Madelyn's knee connecting soundly with his groin - the skirt didn't restrict that movement. His eyes rolled up in his head and he made a sound very much like 'gni'. With no small amount of satisfaction, Madelyn followed up with an elbow strike across his jaw - she didn't want to damage her hands on a moron like this - and watched as he dropped like a tree.
"And the stupid thing? You have no idea if I have powers or not, or what they are, and you still grab me." Shaking her head at the fallen man, Madelyn glared at the two remaining workers. "Now, are you going to be sensible, or is this going to get messy?"
For a moment it seemed sense would win out, but then masculine pride reared its ugly head and the remaining two men clambered to their feet, making ominous growling noises. They weren't abnormally large, but they were well-built and strong-looking, and Madelyn sighed. "Okay, messy it is."
Alison's cheek wasn't hurting quite so much anymore although pain was starting to very persistently blaze from her fingertips, although she suspected it wasn't entirely pleasant for dear John either, from the inarticulate sounds of anguish he was making. Still, her own hand was about to go dumb damn it, and there were already signs of a scuffle - no, scratch that, they were beyond signs, judging from the look on the face of the man Madelyn had just laid down. Hard. "Ow. That looks like it hurt." Still, two against one over there. Although she figured Madelyn could hold her own against untrained men, which was clearly what they were from the way they were moving, Alison still didn't like the odds. At least the bartender seemed to have the fifth man rather busy, she noticed from the corner of her eye.
"So, do you want to-" Her question to John was interrupted by a fist nearly slamming into her shoulder, Alison barely diverting it to the side with the flat of her hand at the very last second. Ow. That had hurt. A lot. And she didn't have the same strength as before, that was clear. And diverting the blow meant she'd had to let go of her grip on his hand, which was all sorts of not good.
"Not so smug anymore now are you, mutie." The man's voice was low, with undertones of hate and violence Alison knew only too well. It had been like that, only with so many more, when she'd first come out, over a year ago. Crowds of people feeling just as he did.
He was a sad thing to look at, really.
"Madelyn." It was a question really so much as a statement, Alison moving back from the man slowly, eyes never leaving him as he pushed off the table to follow. Talk to me.
"Be right there," Madelyn replied, almost conversationally, although her eyes hadn't left the two men approaching her. She backed towards Alison slowly, wanting a bit more room than what she had. I really, really miss my gun right now. Well, when in doubt, bluff... "I don't suppose it occurred to you boys that having FBI headquarters just around the corner means that it's a regular hang out for agents? Are you really wanting to have that kind of trouble?"
The two men hesitated, but John wasn't fazed. "If you were FBI, you'd have called for back-up already, bitch. And I don't see anyone coming to your rescue now, do you?"
"Who said we needed the rescuing?" Madelyn spared a glance at Alison. "So much for my quiet bar, hey, Al? Next time you pick the place."
"At least the bartender has the hots for you," Alison replied, voice somehow managing to carry over to Madelyn just fine. You could muffle a singer's voice only so much, apparently. A strangled sound from the bar proved that admirably well. Use of powers, not that she could do much with them, would be the worst possible thing to do right now. Sighing, Alison shook her head, stopping her own backwards walk the moment she felt Madelyn's back brush against her own, almost causing her to step forward in reflex to get away from the brief flare of discomfort the light touch caused. Right now, giving in to those reflexes would be a bad thing, she knew.
"Next time, we're going to the ritziest restaurant in town," she offered, leaning her head to the side just a bit as she inched to the side, wanting to keep an eye on all three of the men nearing them now. John still had the bulk of her attention though. John would be a very unhappy man for this. "My treat. There's gotta be some perks to be in a filthy rich ex-rockstar." The comment was far more about pushing their new 'friends' into doing something stupid more than anything else, really. "Because being hassled by some idiot low lives with nothing better to do than try and ruin my lunch sure isn't one of thems." She tensed in anticipation, preparing herself for the fact that whatever happened, she was going to hurt.
Incredibly, Madelyn began to laugh. "They never told you about the hassle factor when you signed up? Shame on them." Then one of the men rushed at her - it was obvious they were untrained, since otherwise they would have both attacked - and she shifted her weight slightly to let the haymaker he swung at her head avoid her before reciprocating with a short jab that broke his nose and sent him stumbling back slightly, clutching at his bleeding face and swearing. With his hands occupied, there were all sorts of targets - Madelyn went to kick him under the knee, remembered the damn skirt, and with a mental curse of her own hiked it up slightly so she had more freedom of movement. There was a crunch as patent leather shoe connected and forced the patella up into places it wasn't meant to go. The cursing turned into an almost girlish scream and as the man fell to his knees, Madelyn grabbed his head and kneed him under the chin, dropping him almost casually. "Are you sure you want to continue this?" she asked the remaining man. "You know girls fight dirty, don't you?"
Hesitation was fast turning to doubt, and the man looked nervously between John and Madelyn. There was the sound of breaking glass and a thump from the bar, and the man blocking the bartender collapsed slowly into a pile of broken bottle. The bartender looked almost apologetically at them, the end of the bottle still in his hand. "Couldn't reach anything sooner," he said.
That was enough for John's remaining upright friend - he bolted from the bar without looking back. Leaving John to face one very pissed off and in pain former rockstar, and one equally pissed off former FBI agent whose patient he had been manhandling.
Hands still smarting from the punches she'd deflected from John's unskilled but very fervent attempts to hit her, while Madelyn took his friend down hard, Alison raised an eyebrow in silent question. "Betcha he goes for a chair," she murmured, the sound dampener eating her words for the most part, oh so conveniently allowing only Madelyn to hear what she'd said. And sure enough, after taking a step back, John went for the chair, picking it up with a defiant snarl.
Shaking her head, Alison nudged Madelyn warningly, sparing a vague hope that the man who'd run outside hadn't actually gone for anything like oh, reinforcements. The first swing of the chair Alison simply ducked, hissing in discontent at the way her skin protested the sharp motions and the way her clothing tugged and scraped against the synthsilk. The second swing clipped her against the shoulder, mostly because moving back too much meant exposing Madelyn and Alison wasn't too keen on doing that - and the resulting pain brought a decidedly angry glint to her expression the second she managed to remember to breathe again. "Mine. Make sure the one that split doesn't bring back any buddies, huh?"
"Okay. Just be careful, hmm? Forge will be cranky if you break his shiny toy." It was as much of a caution to be careful of the dampener Madelyn could give without giving away Alison's weakened position. Over by the bar she could see the bartender on the phone, hopefully to the police. Definitely hopefully to the police, she mentally added, as sudden movement over by the construction site down the street resolved itself into several more workers, none of whom looked happy. The man who had fled was with them, gesturing wildly as he no doubt told the story of the Evil Mutant Harpies who had attacked their buddies without provocation. "Okay, we're looking at a possible mob here. Please tell me you have some direct phone numbers to your regulars?" she called across to the bartender, focussing on keeping her tone light. "The sort with badges and guns and scary training?"
"I'm perfectly happy playing duck the moron here," Alison called out over her shoulder, doing just that as the chair swung wildly once more, sparing a glance for John's buddies now crossing the street with ugly expressions. It was a lie, really - it hurt more than anything else, but she grimly kept going. She overheard the bartender cheerfully chant out a number that probably meant something to Madelyn, and made a mental note to have a thank you note and possibly a present sent to the man, for all the trouble he was being put through. And the FBI offices were what, two blocks away?
"Do you really want to do this," she asked John, who had just swung the chair at her head with a very determined 'will take your head off' sort of momentum. Backing up that much more, Alison glanced at the door - still had time and he was following her nicely about like a good little idiot. The next swing she didn't duck but instead moved towards, latching on to his arm to pull herself forward and then push him into the motion he'd started with a firm shove to the shoulder. OW. The resulting stagger forward, right into the thick oaken slab of wood which served as one of the supporting struts of the bar made for a very nice and solid sounding thump however. The chair fell to the ground with a crash and Alison walked back towards Madelyn, wincing with every step. "Next time I say mine, don't listen to me?"
Turning to look at the doorway, she groaned lowly at the newest arrivals. Sure, they could handle it, but it wouldn't be fun. And being in a full out bar brawl would be acutely embarrassing and was that man hefting a tire iron?
"That's it. I've had it." Alison blinked at that, the bartender's comment sounding rather annoyed, but it was the heavy sound of a shotgun being pumped which caused her to stare at him as he brought the weapon out. "I've got a license for this, gentlemen. And my boss will be mighty peeved with me if I let anyone mess up his place, you know?"
"Well." Seriously considering batting her eyes at the man while edging off to the side and out of his line of fire along with Madelyn, Alison grinned just a bit. "Would you look at that."
"I'll remind you you said that next time," Madelyn told her with the smug grin of someone who knows the cavalry are about to charge over the hill. "And I think I'm in love," she murmured lower, nodding towards the bartender. "Gotta like a man who is polite while threatening someone with a shotgun..."
"Those muties attacked our guys!" retorted one of the new arrivals, the one with the tire iron. Trust the one with the weapon to be the spokesman. "You can't just let them get away with it!"
"And you think a lynch mob is the way to go, hmm? How very enlightened of you," Madelyn replied, unable to stop the smirk as she saw several cars pull up outside the bar and what seemed an entire squad of agents came pouring out. It was rather like those clowns in the little cars, only with suits and guns.
"Wow, I didn't know you could become a mutant just like that. Must be osmosis or something, huh? Wait. They probably don't know what that means anyway." Alison slid an amused look at Madelyn, carefully hiding away the fact that she was hurting for later. The shotgun disappeared underneath the counter with alacrity as several men in suits tromped into the bar, none of them looking pleased in the least.
"Oh no." Alison winced as she stopped the latest arrival, stalking inside with a distinctly aggrieved expression. The man ignored the troublemakers, several of which were now being stared down and very politely asked to step outside by the federal agents, and instead made a beeline for the two women and the bartender.
"Hey Zach." A glance at the counter showed that 1) the agent knew exactly what was there and 2) was going to ignore it quite handily as long as it was out of sight, judging by the cheerful grin on the bartender-apparently-named-Zach's face. He then turned to eyeball Alison and Madelyn, crossing his arms while giving them a stern look.
"I always told you you were contagious..." Madelyn gave the agent a slightly-embarrassed look. "Hello, Dobrinksy. It's been a while. All of a couple of hours..."
"Ladies." Behind Dobrinsky other agents were picking up the more unconscious trouble makers and hustling them outside. "You know, if this becomes a habit, I might just have to consider protective custody."
"For their protection or ours?" Madelyn asked with a hint of a grin. "They did start it. We were just trying to have a quiet drink."
"Definitely theirs," Zach piped up from behind the bar, looking very much like a man smitten. "You've got one hell of a punch, miss."
Fiercely amused at that and now one possessing ungodly levels of blackmail, Alison tried not to snicker. This was aided by the fact that sitting down was about to become a serious priority, just until she caught her breath. And maybe things quieted down and hurt less. At least the people were all going out and the sudden realization that she had been starting to feel distinctly crowded drew a small frown from her.
Taking a few steps, Alison casually leaned against one of the barstools near the bar, giving Dobrinsky a somewhat tight smile. They'd been through the whole protective custody thing before, after all. "Hey. At least it's the first time this happens to me in a bar?" she offered, hoping she wasn't sounding too casual and trying to avoid bitter at all costs. Catching Madelyn's attention, she tried not to look too pleading as she mouthed the word 'Home?' at her discreetly.
banter to her doctor voice. "Do you need statements from both of us, or are mine and Zach's enough? And can we do that later? Those health issues I mentioned before... we should get back." she said to Dobrinsky. "You've got my number at the school - just let me know when you want me to come in."
Dobrinsky nodded. "It depends what our investigation turns up, but I think you and Zach should be enough. I'll let you know. Just... drive safe and don't stop off anywhere else, all right? I think you've had your bigot quota for the day."
"Definitely," Madelyn agreed. She moved to Alison's side, carefully not touching her but there if the other woman needed a helping hand. "No greasy food today. Always greasy food tomorrow," she said with a slight pout.
The mention of greasy food made Alison feel queasy more than anything else at this point, though she did spare a smile for Dobrinsky as she carefully made her way towards the exit, very much aware of Madelyn staying close by. John and his friends would probably be turned over to the local cops before long, and she was willing to bet an officer could simply be sent down to the mansion to take any statement that might be needed, although at this point Alison didn't care. It could be dealt with later.
"Hooome," she crooned to herself softly as they stepped outside and headed towards the car, Alison increasing her pace despite the lingering ache. The fresh air did her good, as did the bright sunlight outside, and she grinned a bit at Madelyn. "Betcha Zach tries to get your number off Dobrinsky."
"Why else do you think I made sure he heard me say that?" Madelyn asked not-so-innocently, fishing the keys out of her bag.
no subject
There was karma involved. Well, not in the literal sense of karma, but in the popular one.