bigapplesauce | Just a Few of Us [Open to Multiple]

Current Music: August 28th - September 3rd, 2013

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Just a Few of Us [Open to Multiple]

If it was just the one baby, Greta suspects it would be easier than it had been at home. She doesn't have to balance childcare with running a bakery, and her apartment is too newly-settled (and little-trafficked) to require anywhere near as much cleaning as a shop. And if ROMAC hasn't provided her with much in the way of human aid - there is a nursery she can bring them to when necessary, but it's busy and noisy and a few of the children there have alarming Rift enchantments to contend with, so she treats that as a last resort - at least they've given her all the material things she could need.

(It both helps and distantly rankles that she's used to doing the bulk of the work herself, anyway.)

Two, though. Two are a literal and metaphorical handful. She often finds herself thinking it's just as well the Witch only promised them one, for both their sakes, and then just for his, and then she has to stop thinking about it. So perhaps it's just as well that she has two to distract her, now.

The poor, motherless things. If they're really motherless. She should stop thinking about that, as well, if only because she hasn't the first idea how to track down their parents if they are here, and it's not safe for her to reach out to those who might be able to help her. Maybe they are orphans. Either way, the best use of her time and energy is giving them the best possible care, so... that's just what she's going to do.

Alone, if she has to.

[ooc: so, Greta's gonna be watching these two tiny babies for about a week and presumably is not going to have much time for anything else, poor woman. But she'll almost certainly welcome visitors ~~unless you're an emotion-nomming creep~~! If your character can finagle their way into the ROMAC base, feel free to have them drop by her apartment. If you can't realistically get into ROMAC but still want in on the baby-related redonkulousness, drop me a line and we can finagle a way to get her out into the Park or something.

Also, since this could take place at any time over the course of a week, just pick your date and put it in the header of your top-level for reference.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rashad did not expect Greta Baker to be a person he had met before, nor did he expect her to come to the door carrying an infant. He blinks down at her, briefly weighing the wisdom of fulfilling his original intentions in coming here against the option of simply leaving again. He did not intend to leave a trail by confronting a person who could identify him.

Ultimately, however, he decides that it's not likely she knows enough about him to call for immediate abandonment of his information-gathering efforts. "May I enter?" he asks, one arm already reaching up to rest against the door and prevent her closing it again.

That's not an answer to her question, and she glances at the arm he's already insinuated in the doorway in faint alarm. She has no way of preventing him from coming in, now that the door's open. Perhaps if she didn't have one child in her arms and another in the room... but she does, and she can't jeopardize their safety.

Surely he wouldn't hurt a child...?

Bea lets out another grumble, this time because Greta's holding her too close. She readjusts her grip on the infant, stalling for time, thinking. Her phone is on the table. She can't reach it without leaving him free to enter. There's a foot-long breadknife in the kitchen, too, but there's no getting to any of it without him getting in.

So. Let him in. Pretend to cooperate. Get the phone. The Balladeer is probably in the Park, but if she calls him out of nowhere and he hears nothing but a tense conversation between her and a strange man, he'll come. She's fairly certain.

"If you must," she says, taking a step back. Then, pointedly, "You didn't answer my question."

He has alarmed her, however faintly. Such was not a core aspect of his intentions, but it may prove advantageous for her to be frightened. Fear has always garnered results from Rush, after all. He pushes his way smoothly inside, shutting the door behind him without bothering to lock it. He does not expect her to cry out and bring intervention from her neighbors; it is merely necessary that there be some measure of privacy.

"I am looking for Iman Asadi," he informs Greta, gaze locked on her face for her reaction.

There's something final about the way he shuts the door, though he makes no attempt to lock it. Greta edges backward, toward the crib where Abbie is still, thankfully, sleeping. If she can put Bea down, then she'll have her hands free, and she can do... something. Reach her phone, if he'll let her - but by the time she gets the children settled, he'll be closer to the table where it's resting than she is. Why didn't she go for the phone first?

His question jerks her out of her silent self-recrimination, and a sharp spike of worry lances through her. Does he know? Did someone see Iman leaving her room that evening? She could have told the woman what an unacceptable risk she'd been taking by lingering in the building, and now look, here's proof: Greta's being questioned by this... whatever he is.

Thank goodness she doesn't have an answer for him.

It's just a matter of whether or not he'll accept the truth.

"Well, you can see she's not here," Greta says in a strained attempt at nonchalance. Bea grizzles again, and she rocks the child absently as she furrows her brow at Rashad. She should pretend not to have any idea what's going on - that's what Iman had said, right? "And you can see that I'm busy," she adds with a pointed nod towards the crib. "Why are you asking me?"

Rashad follows about halfway, watching her comfort the fussing infant. His own thoughts are centered on the matter of how best to pry the information from her; he does not intend to hurt Greta or the children but there is no practical reason to reassure her of that fact. He glances around the room, noting the positions of the furniture and other items with disinterest; it doesn't occur to him to preemptively prevent her access to her communication device but she's right in thinking that he'll naturally take up a position relatively near the table.

"I did not expect her to be," he admits, attention back on the woman before him. "But it would seem you and she share a close bond. If anyone were to know her whereabouts, I would expect it of you."

That's an odd way of phrasing things, and Greta's frown takes a turn for the genuinely baffled. "We're friends," she says bluntly. "That doesn't mean I'm--I'm tracking her every move." That, she thinks, is more ROMAC's purview. Is Rashad working for them, she wonders? It seems unbelievable that he'd go to the trouble of sneaking into the building just to confront the one person who's deliberately not keeping track of Iman's whereabouts. And if he knows they're friends, what makes him think she'd tell him anything?

Bea's fussing at least proves useful. Greta has to keep moving in an attempt to calm the infant, so she starts to work her way towards the table, where her phone is resting. The Balladeer's on speed dial. If she can just pocket the device without Rashad noticing...

She knows, he wants to know, therefore he goes to her for the information. In Rashad's head things really are that simple most of the time; after all he wanted to know why Rush was locked up, and asking Rush resulted in an answer, if an incomplete one.

"She is inclined to track your whereabouts," he points out. "Emphatically so, from my understanding."

Greta pauses mid-sneak, entirely thrown. What on earth is he talking about? She could imagine him guessing at their friendship - they did attend that party together, after all, and maybe he noticed more than his fraught state had let on. But now he's just spouting plain nonsense with straight-faced certainty.

"I--I beg your pardon?" she stammers, frowning at him.

"Her messages," clarifies Rashad. "When she was unable to discern your location she sent a series of messages on the subject that expressed a great deal of urgency. That speaks of a close relationship; it is only logical to suppose that the two of you remain apprised of each other's whereabouts."

As he speaks he steps closer again, aware that she is still wary of him and supposing it may prompt her to respond.

Oh. He means that day with the curses, when Iman had been trying to find her. That only clears up some of her confusion, though. "Why would she have sent that message to you?" Greta asks. However worried Iman might have been, Greta can't imagine her asking Rashad, of all people, to look for her.

And then, oh dear, he's coming towards her, and towards the baby. She steps back and to the side, eyes narrowed, not allowing herself to be steered away from the table. "I don't know where she is," she insists, "and I--I think you should leave."

Why Iman would send the message to Rashad is irrelevant. It would be simple enough to answer that the messages were sent to the public at large, but it is even simpler to allow Greta's anxiety to build. He draws himself to his full height, staring at her with slightly tilted head and an utter lack of facial expression.

"I will leave once you have told me where Asadi is," he says flatly. "If you do not know now, you are capable of finding out."

His deadpan stare is far more terrifying than it has any right to be, perhaps because it's so at odds with the way he was when Greta first met him. He hasn't shown so much as a scrap of emotion since his arrival. What might he do if she continues to refuse him, or tries to kick him out? How can she even begin to guess when his face and manner betray absolutely nothing?

But here's something: he expects that she can (and will) contact Iman. Which means she needn't even be sneaky about using her phone - how else would she do it? - and he'll just have to let her. She glances between him and the device a few times, letting herself visibly waver with uncertainty. "I... I could try to text her," she says. He doesn't need to know how loosely she means 'try.' "If you promise to leave."

A subtle but definite shift in Greta's emotional gestalt precedes her offer to contact Asadi, but Rashad can't quite pin it down. Hope, perhaps. Determination? An expectation of something. Perhaps she expects that once she has contacted Asadi the other woman will be able to defuse the situation on her behalf. That suits his purposes quite well.

"I promise to leave once you have established contact," he agrees with a slight inclination of his head, still insisting upon that condition.

Greta shifts her grip on Bea, edges over to the table, and picks up her phone before retreating again, keeping herself and Bea well out of Rashad's reach. "Right," she says, prodding at the phone with her thumb. There's no question of her actually texting Iman, not yet - Rashad can't want to find Iman for any good reasons, and the last thing she wants to do is deliver her friend to him. Instead, she texts the rest of her (admittedly meager) collection of people she thinks might help: The Balladeer and, on second though, Johnny: I need help, quickly. ROMAC tower, my apartment. Can you get here?

"There," she says, glancing up at Rashad before looking back down at her phone. "We just have to, er, wait for a response."

Bea decides, unhelpfully, that now would be a good time to commence yowling. Greta attempts to comfort her to little effect - perhaps because Bea's just feeling fractious, or perhaps because Greta's not in any kind of frame of mind to soothe anyone. And then there's an answering grumble of complaint from Abbie in the crib - wonderful. Dropping her phone into her pocket, Greta sidles towards the crib, rubbing Bea's back with her freed hand.

"You're upsetting the children," she accuses, as much just because she can as because it's arguably, indirectly true.

Edited 2015-04-11 22:15 (UTC)

Waiting sounds perfectly reasonable to Rashad, though again there's something not quite as expected in her feelings about it. Her frustration is more to be expected, though, especially when the baby in her arms all but erupts with intense dissatisfaction. The other one threatens to join in, and their collective longing for -- things -- has him all but tasting the air.

The one in her arms is very loud, isn't it? How will she concentrate on the task of intercepting Asadi's communication with all that noise to contend with?

And when was the last time he ate, anyway? He will hardly take anything from them at all, and they are so tiny that their collective emotions will likely only give him a short burst of energy he can keep contained enough while they wait.

"I will quiet them," he says decisively, and then he does so. Bea promptly goes limp in Greta's arms, her sister also quieting. Rashad's eyes grow wet and his lower lip trembles, but he is silent as he fights to hold in the unexpectedly strong surge.

Greta furrows her brow in mingled confusion and suspicion when Rashad speaks, not liking how chilling 'quiet' sounds when coming from him. And then both children fall completely silent, Bea goes limp in her arms, what did he, what did he--?!

She pulls Bea away from her shoulder and looks down at her, letting out a little gasp of horror at how still she is, oh no, is she... are they even still...? A palm held over Bea's chest confirms that her little heart is still beating, and then Greta's gaze snaps back up to Rashad.

"What did you do?!" she snaps, motherly fury overwhelming her fear of him. She barely even registers that he looks upset.

Rashad gives a full-body tremble and shies away from her, crossing his arms defensively over his belly as he ducks his head and makes himself generally just a little bit smaller. "Dooooon't," he protests, upset by the yelling, upset by the fresh wave of horror filling the air (which he does not eat, thank you), upset by the way his clothes are slightly uncomfortable and the room is a little too warm and he's tired and he wants things and he's not sure what things he wants --

He doesn't even realize he's wilting to the floor until he's already there, laying on the floor and moaning to himself.

It's like the party all over again, when he'd shied away from her in horror - but different this time. Different because it isn't Rush laid out on the floor, it's the children. He's gone after them, after a pair of innocent babies! What sort of monster would attack little children like this?!

"You ate the children!" she squawks, her furious indignation growing in inverse proportion to his slow slump to the floor. How dare he?! She carefully sets Bea down in the crib, her arms shaking - she will need both of them to get Rashad out of here, and she will, she will--she will drag him out by his hair if she has to.

Rounding on Rashad, she stands over him with her fingers curled like claws. There he lies, a grotesque parody of infancy, his face scrunched into a helpless pout. Would lashing out at him be too much like hurting a real child? Greta hesitates, and hates herself for hesitating. "What is wrong with you?" she snaps, grimacing in disgust and giving Rashad an experimental nudge with her foot.

"I didn't eat all of them!" whines Rashad, incensed at the injustice of her accusation. "Just -- just paaaaart!" The last word elongates into a howl broken by sobs, because how can she not see that he's trying, he's trying really hard right now and it's hard!

The experimental nudge prompts him to curl in tighter on himself and snivel louder. "I just want!" he explains miserably. There was some kind of thought at the start about what he wants -- Iman Asadi, here, explaining herself and turning herself over to him to bring back to ROMAC -- but it dissolved in the face of the realization that he wants quite a lot of things right now, many of them unidentifiable.

"You shouldn't have eaten any of them!" she protests, while part of her marvels that this is even a sentence she needs to utter. She glances back at the crib, at the children she's failed to protect. They were supposed to be safest here, with her, that's the least that she thought she could provide for them. And now look what's happened.

Gritting her teeth, Greta takes Rashad by the ear and pulls none-too-gently. "On your feet," she orders. She doesn't care how childish his emotions are; they aren't really his, and she's getting him out of here.

"Hurts!!" bleats Rashad, but for a moment it looks like he's going to cooperate, going so far as to rise up on one elbow. Getting up seems even more uncomfortable than staying on the floor, though (quite a feat considering he is already the most uncomfortable he has ever been), and the arm not supporting his weight comes up to grab at Greta's arm and hang his weight on her until either she lets go or she falls down on top of him, because either way it'll stop her pulling on his ear.

Good, she thinks; it's supposed to hurt. But it's not enough to actually get him onto his feet. What, has he lost all motor skills as well? Apparently so, because a moment later he's hanging what feels like his full weight off of her arm. She comes perilously close to falling on top of him, and is saved only by releasing his ear and planting her knee into his gut for leverage (an act that she commits with a bit more vicious enthusiasm than might be strictly necessary).

"Oh, for--" she huffs, disentangling herself from him and staggering back a pace or two. Door first, she decides. She'll prop it open, and then she'll just drag him out. And if the neighbors hear... well, maybe one of them will come and help her. She has a hard time imagining that ROMAC authorized him to harm the children they placed under her care.

The door is easy enough to handle. Rashad is a bit more difficult, and she spends a moment eyeing him as if he's a particularly nasty mess someone's tracked in before reaching down and grabbing him by the ankle. "You need," she grunts as she hauls on his leg, "to leave. Now."

Greta's in luck - Johnny happens to be in her neck of the woods when her text comes in, on a truly ill-advised attempt to acquire culture at the MoMA. Things are back to more or less normal with Gabe but he still feels the frequent itch to get out, wander, be alone. The museum was a nice idea but a definitive mistake. Everything feels too open, too haunted, and Johnny Truant is realizing that for an alleged artist, he really does not understand art.

He is inappropriately relieved to have an excuse to leave, relief that shortly turns to mild distress as the unusually urgent tone of the text hits him. Something is wrong. Why the fuck did she contact him?

Oh well.

It's a quick jog to the ROMAC Base, where he's been only the once, when he rescued Charley and the Doctor, and it feels odd to just walk in the front door, though it's just an office building, isn't it? It's fine. If they were looking for him they'd surely have found him by now.

He paces in a tight circle as the elevator rises to Greta's floor, the knot in his gut starting to tighten. What if something is really wrong here? What if he can't help her?

Then he'll pray.

He pushes his way out the doors and rushes down the hall - he can hear some kind of commotion, oh god, oh god, there's her voice, she sounds angry, and another voice he doesn't recognize, making a horrible fucking racket. What the shit is even going on.

Her door is open, which is even more alarming, so when he lunges in he's already yelling, "Greta, I'm here, what's wro-", stopping abruptly for the sheer effort of trying to process what is happening in front of his face.

Greta is hunched over the prone form of Rashad, there's a guy he hasn't seen in a while (and hasn't entirely missed), who is throwing a fucking tantrum.

There is obviously a distinct lack of context here, he finds it almost offensive in scope. How is this a situation he's been called into. Why. What possible reason. (It is still better than the MoMA.)

He stands there for a long moment, but fails to find an appropriate reaction. Instead he looks at Greta with an expression of open incredulity and says, "What is HAPPENING?"

Edited 2015-04-12 06:42 (UTC)

Rashad whines and curls up around where she jabbed her knee into him. That she has stopped trying to haul him off the floor is of ~~little~~ no comfort; he is free to stay where he wishes but that only frees him to writhe and groan and occasionally yowl, kicking vaguely as she takes him by the ankle and starts slowly dragging him toward the door.

"She won't stop pulling on me!" he blubbers to Johnny.

It's a surprise when Johnny comes charging in, but she doesn't have the wherewithal to be startled or touched; she's too busy being furious with Rashad. "We need to get him out of here," she says, looking over her shoulder at Johnny. "He--he ate the children. That's why he's acting like this."

And if they don't get him out, he might do it again. Considering how thoroughly he flattened Rush, she hates to think of what kind of state the babies might be in. Not that she can check until Rashad is gone. "Can you take his other leg?" she asks, nodding toward it.

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