|Wren and Selina have claws (laminette) wrote in doorslogs,|
@ 2012-08-05 02:27:00
Who: Wren!Selina → Wren
Where: Art thievery → Jade's apartment → Park → Turnberry
When: After leaving Brielle's
Stealing the Hopper was the only thing that had gone right all day. The private collector was the kind that paid a bundle for a security system that had gaps in all the places thieves looked. It had either been installed by someone hoping to make a buck in the future, or it had been installed as a joke. Either way, the kitty cat was in and out in minutes, after having gone back to Turnberry to change into something more appropriate, something that definitely included a mask.
She dropped the artwork off at her new fence's (not using the door), and she attached an apologetic note for missing their meeting time. Next time, she promised, and the kitty cat liked to keep her promises. Either way, the sale of the painting would hopefully give Blondie enough time to get settled into something safer, something less whips and leather and blonde.
But that was the problem, really. How much did the kitty cat tell Blondie about what had happened at Brielle's? The truth would panic her, and Selina wasn't sure Blondie could take any more panic. A half-truth might work, but what half? And if the police came for Brielle, Blondie was still going to feel guilty, and that guilt might result in a short swing from the rafters, especially if the antihero didn't man up and come out of hiding. Silver, who had always been her backup, was too healthy to handle Blondie's drama, and if he was going to stomp out, then how was she (Selina) supposed to pass along the story of the day's activities without Blondie ending up as an unidentified blonde on the evening news?
It took a few seconds longer than it should have to come up with a solution, and that was only because Selina wasn't really used to thinking of her kittens in the same way Blondie thought about her kitten.
She changed into something sedate - a white dress, hair tucked up neatly, a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on her face. She called in a cleaning crew to take care of the mess at Turnberry, and she went looking. Luke's first - nothing. Evie's second - nothing. The park - Bingo.
Selina recognized the boy on sight, and she recognized him with more ease than she'd recognized Luke Henry. The photos of Gus on the phone were pristine, and there were dozens of them. And, luckily, all those nights hiding in Luke's apartment while Luke worked meant that the little boy recognized her almost immediately.
It didn't even take any sweet talking. The babysitter knew Wren from all those clandestine nights at Luke's, and she was perfectly willing to take the rest of the afternoon off. Surely if Mr. Henry left Wren alone with Gus in his apartment, then it was fine to let her take him now.
Gus took for granted that she was Wren at first, though he kept looking at her during the cab ride to Turnberry, as if he knew something was off, his uneasiness increasing in the form of lip biting and sucking on his fingers. She was sure she was going to have to scrap this entire plan by the time he started whimpering and squirming, but a completely random stop to collect a kitten that was wandering along the side of the road turned the tables. Tiny and calico, and Gus' fingers popped out of his mouth almost instantly.
Luckily, they were almost at Turnberry.
Selina was glad to be in the penthouse, doors locked, windows bolted, alarm turned on. No one was home, and the place was quiet and clean, no sign of the disasters from earlier, no crying redhead (since MK was through her door), no Brielle. She left Gus to chase the kitten into the bedroom, where the other cat was already hissing and fluffing, and then she typed a quick note on the phone and sat down on the couch.
Wren regained consciousness slowly, just as she had the last time Selina controlled her, and this time she associated the sensation with what it was, and she didn't panic. She'd asked, and the fact that Selina had left meant (she hoped) that things were okay?
She had just picked up the phone, just started to read Selina's very uninformative note, when the kitten came dashing across her lap, followed by a very hissy Petti, and trailed by a little boy that couldn't keep up. "Gus? Bebe, how did you get here?" she asked, already standing and moving to scoop him up in her arms, which he didn't care for when there were kittens to pursue.
Selina had obviously left some things out, Wren realized, wincing when Gus poked at the bruise that was blossoming on her jaw, all while chattering at her in his lispy whisper about Luke being sick, because he wasn't acting like hisself.
That made Wren sit back down heavily on the couch, heartsore, and she let the little boy squirm free in pursuit of the kitten. She should call Bruce. She should find out what happened. But her fingers trembled, and she didn't want to fall apart in front of Gus. What if something horrible had happened? Why else would he relent and let her have Gus?
She wanted a drink, a pill, something, anything. But Gus was carrying the kitten toward her, the furry little legs kicking to get free from the four-year old's grasp, and Wren forced herself to smile, even though she didn't mean it. The little boy tipped his head solemnly, grey eyes too grown-up, and the kitten ran free.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, woman and boy, and then Gus climbed onto her lap, fingers in his mouth, and Wren just wrapped her arms around him. "I miss him too, bebe."