Francess Penn (out_of_body) wrote in city_limits, @ 2009-04-30 22:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | francess penn, melinda berkeley |
Talking in the Breakroom
It was a fairly straightforward route to get to the Logan Theater. Melinda simply hopped onto the Blue Line at the UIC-Halsted stop, and rode it to Logan Square. She gripped the rubber handrail of the escalator as she exited the station, squinting at the bright sunlight when she emerged above ground. It was starting to really feel like spring as the temperatures ascended into the 70s and low 80s, but the weather did little to improve the brunette's spirits. She was a little less nervous after her conversation with Connor, though, so that was something.
She crossed the street and began walking down Milwaukee, looking up at the theater's marquee. Pushing open one of the swinging glass doors, Melinda scanned the lobby and concession area for Francess. The brunette didn't know the other girl that well, despite spending time in her body. Truthfully, she had felt a little odd about it; she expended a considerable amount of energy keeping people at a distance, and to have someone literally inhabit her skin had been disorienting. Now, though, she had bigger concerns to deal with.
Over by the snack food counter, Francess washed her hands and shook them dry. Earlier, a soda machine disaster sprayed brown liquid all over the place. Since Fran was Assistant Manager of Concessions, and therefore answerable for all beverage catastrophes, she swept in, chain of cups in hand, to catch the spillover until a coworker solved the problem. Things were under control now, but they'd all be drinking Mug Root Beer for hours.
She looked up as Melinda approached. It was still a little jarring to see her face, since she wore it for a while. "Hey," she said, wiping her hands on the gritty, brown paper towels. The taller of the two women scooted around the end of the counter, hair swinging from an elastic band like a horse's tail. "What's up? I haven't seen you in forever." Immediately, she felt weird about saying that. Did it sound stalker-y? It was only supposed to be friendly.
Francess crossed her arms over the newest uniform selection from management, a burgundy polo shirt and black trousers. The worst part was the matching black shoes, which had to be leather lace-ups.
"Hi," Melinda replied, unsure of how to proceed now that she was here. She brushed some imaginary dust off of her fitted black t-shirt. "Yeah, I...actually, I meant to come by before now, I just...it felt kinda weird. Not because of you, but the whole..." She waved a hand vaguely. "Body switch-y thing." The brunette cleared her throat, inwardly lamenting her sudden lack of eloquence.
"But I have to talk to you about something. It's kind of important. Possibly away from prying eyes and ears?" She glanced meaningfully at Francess' co-workers and a cluster of customers nearby.
"Okay. We could go in the break room," she said, shuffling her weight from foot to foot. Francess thought it might always be 'kinda weird' around each other, thanks to a paranoid fear of brushing arms. One never knew when mystical hijinks were in the air. "If you don't mind junk. It's mostly storage with a table and chairs." Being somewhat of a neat freak, Fran hated the 'catch-all' room with a passion, but so did almost everybody, so they were guaranteed privacy. The management office was an alternative, but last time she went in the dinky room full of file cabinets, she found a much-abused Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition on the desk and got creeped out. "Or I could go outside for a few minutes. I think the drink machine's finished exploding for the day."
Privately, she wondered why Melinda looked so urgent. All Fran could think up was that Melinda's body was messed up somehow, and she was about to get interrogated. She mentally worked herself up for a rebuttal about returning the body in mint condition.
"The break room is fine," Melinda replied, trying to keep her tone even. She realized that her demeanor might put Francess on edge, and that wasn't her goal. "So..." The brunette placed a hand on the counter in a casual stance, waiting for the taller girl to lead the way. "How have things been? You haven't had problems with, you know..." A vague gesture to Francess' midsection, indicating her body. "Because I just stayed inside the whole time. I didn't take it out for a joyride or anything."
Francess didn't catch on. "With... what?" She touched her stomach and glanced down. Nothing felt wrong with her stomach. "Cramps?" She blanched. "Pregnancy? No. Why, have... you?" Oh god. No way, that couldn't be it. What if she was in Melinda's body while she was with child? She could never, ever again answer no to a physician's question of 'have you ever been pregnant?' without a teensy twinge. She tried to think if she'd done anything harmful to a fetus while in the telekinetic's body. Excessive caffeine, maybe.
Ignoring her fears of bodily contact, she took Melinda's elbow and guided her to the employee break room.
"I...meant with the body switch." The corners of Melinda's mouth twitched. "Everything was normal for me, I was just making sure it was all kosher with you." The last thing the brunette needed was a kid. She couldn't even afford to live in an apartment on her own in Chicago.
Once they were out of earshot, her expression turned serious. "I actually came to warn you, since you do that thing where you hop out of your body. I got attacked and...I don't know if kidnapped is the right word. Captured, maybe? Anyway, apparently there's this guy going around stealing people's powers. He took mine, and I keep forgetting and I have to get up now to fetch the remote from the other side of the living room."
She reached in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "This guy, Connor, he knows two other people who it happened to. I just wanted to let you know, so you're alert."
"This guy Connor?" Uncertain, Francess took the piece of paper. She read the information. "Hey... That's my roommate!" She looked up at Melinda. "How come he didn't warn me?" she wondered aloud, more than a little indignant. Her back straightened. Then she slumped again. "Wait... Did I tell him I can project?" Since she couldn't remember, Francess sidelined her feelings and chewed her fingernail. Eventually, more reasonable sentiments prevailed. "I'm sorry, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
She pulled out two old chairs and sat down. Francess wasn't sure her special ability counted as a 'power'. She always thought of etheric projection as an unnatural talent, but not necessarily supernatural.
Melinda tried to follow Francess' verbal train of thought, but it missed her about two stops ago. Instead, she idly examined the cover of an old magazine lying on the table. After a moment, she spoke again. "He drugged me. Not sure with what, some kind of tranquilizer. The worst part was getting dumped off in some random spot. I ran into this vampire who I'm not exactly on friendly terms with, at the worst possible moment."
The brunette sighed and pushed the wrinkled pages of the magazine away. "I hate being vulnerable."
Looking back up at the other girl, she tilted her head an inch or so to the side. "If you haven't told Connor about it, you should. He seems pretty comfortable with that type of thing."
"Maybe." Francess stared guiltily at the teen fashion magazine. She felt terrible, having just caught herself before asking, 'Why would you be on friendly terms with a vampire?'. Oh, yeah. Her own frequent date partner was a member of the legions of undead. Sometimes she overlooked that. He acted so chivalrous! Fran believed that manners and a pair of great, blue eyes could convince an otherwise straight-laced girl to overlook anything. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Francess sank into her chair and swallowed. "I wonder how the kidnapper knew you had telekinesis. Do you think somebody told?"
Too many crime novels, plus a healthy imagination, had Fran picturing the ultimate in betrayal. A dark stranger roaming the streets in search of masked (or not) heroes... Buying secrets in seedy bars... One of Melinda's friends, drunk and desperate for cash, selling her out for a wad of cash and a flight out of town. Et tu, Brute?
"Grace!" Francess erupted. "Would she tell? Did you spurn her advances?"
She turned that idea over in her head. "Well, not that many people know. And I don't think I've done anything to upset Grace, except I did forget to get back to her about this voice mail message that she left me. But I can't see her developing a vendetta over that. There is Thea, who's the vampire I mentioned before. She doesn't seem smart enough to formulate a plan like that, though."
Melinda tapped her fingers against the table in slight frustration. "Maybe he'd been following me. Sometimes I slip up and do things in public. It just becomes second nature, you know? Something you take for granted, until it's gone."
"I can see that," Fran said. She scratched her elbow and wondered why anyone would take Melinda's abilities. An awkward question formed in her head. "When he stole your powers, what happened? Did he use them himself, or was it more like... just neutering you?" She scrunched up her nose. That was an awful way of putting it, but Fran couldn't think of an alternative. Maybe the kidnapper was a vigilante, stripping abilities he considered dangerous, or maybe he wanted to make himself into an unbeatable super-villain.
She frowned. Perhaps in some small way, that was the part that disturbed her the most. "I'm not sure. Connor said he might just collect them, like...trophies, I guess? Why he can't just hunt deer like normal people, I have no idea." Melinda crossed her legs at the ankles, eyes downcast at the well-worn table. "I haven't done anything wrong with the telekinesis...and I wasn't planning on it, either. If I thought I could just waltz around controlling everyone with it, I don't think I'd be racking up the student loans."
The brunette brushed her hair back. "One thing that makes me feel a little better, though, is I'm meeting up with the two other people that it's happened to. I guess we're going to compile what little we know and try to come up with ideas. It's better than sitting around moping, you know?"
Francess nodded in earnest. "I always feel better when I have a plan. When I can't sleep, sometimes I get up and make bulleted lists, even if there's nothing I'm forgetting. Like... kinds of socks I'd like to own." That was a strange example, and not very relevant, but she wanted to make a contribution.
Not knowing whether it was private information or not, she asked, "Hey... Do you know what kind of powers they have? The other people? Maybe there's a pattern. Like... he only collects certain ones." Selfishly, she hoped his interests did not include out-of-body experiences.
Melinda nodded in surprised recognition. "I do something similar, except they're more like...mapped out plans, of what I'm supposed to do with my life by what age. Of course, it's constantly shifting, but it keeps the uncertainty at bay." She bit her lip then, looking away. She had never admitted to anyone -- she even hardly admitted it to herself -- that she was plagued with a deep unease about the future. This incident, with her powers stripped from her and not even knowing how and why it happened, compounded that.
"A Slayer and a psychic. A Slayer is someone who fights vampires and demons," she explained briefly to Francess, in case she was unfamiliar with the term like she had been. "Is it wrong that I think she's the worst off? Okay, so I can't float things across the room anymore, but she can't do her duty anymore." Her thumb scratched at a sticker that had been affixed to the surface of the table.
"Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? This doesn't have to happen to anyone else." Melinda stood, unsure of what to do next, facing the taller girl.
"Oh! I read about Slayers once," Francess said, perking up and feeling a bit less ignorant about the situation. "When I was looking up vampires. I did some research so I wouldn't accidentally maim my frequent date partner." Not realizing her roommate knew Melinda, and also that he knew a chosen demon huntress, made her realize how 'in the dark' she was. Sometimes, it seemed she only orbitted all the other people in her life. Perhaps she should get out of the theatre (movie and stage kinds) and talk to people more often. It was just hard feeling confident enough to invite herself, when she wasn't sure she was useful.
But now, for the first time, Fran had a glimmer that maybe she could use her ability to help. Like Avery said, she could go places other people couldn't.
"I'll be careful." A series of colorful, rubbery bracelets hung from Fran's wrist. She fidgeted with them and stood up. "Um. If you need any help, you could call." She shrugged a shoulder. "I can project whenever I want now, so... I'd make a good spy!" she said, inwardly cringing at the note of hope in her voice.
Melinda tilted her head thoughtfully. "I hadn't considered that. I can bring it up at the meeting? I can see that being useful." It wasn't like she'd get caught, and even if she did, what could the person do? Francess could just float away, unharmed.
"Have you ever thought of hiring yourself out as a spy?," she half-joked. "I mean, you wouldn't even need wigs or disguises and things."
Francess pursed her lips and thought it over. "I don't know. It seems kind of... unethical, unless they're bad guys," she said. Truthfully, it never occurred to her before, but maybe it'd be kind-of neat. Francess M. Penn, private investigator. "Do you think most spies are hired to stalk boyfriends and spouses?" Following disloyal dirtbags around didn't seem adventurous or rewarding, just very depressing.
"Maybe. Or maybe you'd get hired by the government or something." Melinda glanced down at her watch. "Listen, I have to get back to school, but I'm glad you took time out to talk. It was helpful. And there's very few people who know, about me, so..." She trailed off, slender shoulders coming up in a brief shrug. "I'll let you get back to your work, then."
The brunette pulled open the door of the break room
"Thanks for telling me," Fran said, pulling the door shut and going back into the popcorn-scented lobby. "Stay safe." She left it at a little wave and watched Melinda walk outside. Inwardly, Francess thought that no matter how scary the kidnapper was, and how bad she felt for Melinda, it was flattering to be thought about. She got out her cell phone and began to text Avery a message, telling him about the person stealing powers.