Roxie (Wren) Maheu (ex_theredlig387) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-04-26 19:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, roxanne |
Who: Wren and Thomas Bat
What: A discussion about a job at Thomas, Inc.
Where: Edison
When: Today?
Warnings: Nondescript discussion about the sex profession
She had just gotten off stage.
The window to her room was open, as it always was, despite the cold. It was Luke’s main entry point, and she never closed it. It was cool inside the white space, and she was sitting at her dressing table, blonde ringlets still in place, a pink dressing gown over the white “wedding” corset she had worn for her last act. She was singing, a soft French song about loss as she tugged the veil off her blonde curls.
She glanced in the mirror, looking toward the window in the reflection. The white curtain there billowing softly in the chill. “Luke?” she called out quietly, just in case, but then she turned her attention back to the veil and the pins holding it in place. She hadn’t seen him in a few days, and she was worried about him. It was impossible not to follow his family drama lately. It was all anyone in the Edison talked about. The dancers talked about Luke and Thomas like they had a personal investment in their lives (and their money), and she found herself in her room more often than not lately.
Her suit, brown and inset with kevlar strips, was laid out on the bed, the belt of knives beside it. The rain had finally quieted, and she would go out in a little while, but for now she returned to her quiet song and the pins holding the gauzy fabric on blonde curls.
The Bat’s life was so filled with security measures and angry guilt that seeing himself presented with an open window, particularly in all this rain, was bizarre. He had been so very careful when allowing Luke and Max access to the Bat--what made him what he was, not the person--that when they used it for their own ends without his approval, he was stunned and hurt by the betrayal. They’d meant for the best, but in the end, he could not trust them with the belongings he treasured most. It depressed him.
He still thought that Thomas Brandon would not be a great loss to society. That didn’t necessarily mean he’d stay in jail long, and the Bat need not be equally tied, and considering the abilities of those around him and his own confidence in his ability to survive wherever he was, prison was not necessarily a dead end. Thomas could escape to Brazil, the Bat could stay in Seattle. It would be complex, but anyone would have a problem understanding how he could be both if that was the case.
He never thought of the Bat as a different person then himself. It was alien to do so, and he didn’t care for it. The suit was built to keep off the rain and prevent it from slipping him up, tread on the boots non-slip, cowl constructed so water slid out of his eyes. Wren was on the way to where he was going, and he made sure he was not being watched before tapping weighted knuckles on the window frame. It sounded like lead shot dropping on wet wood. Thunk thunk.
The sound of the knocking surprised her. Luke never knocked, and no one else used the window, no one that wasn’t her, anyway. She tugged the last pin from the veil, and she put the gauzy material aside. “Come in,” she called out, walking toward the window as she said the words. She couldn’t see anything past the billowing curtain, and she moved a little faster as she crossed the space. She wasn’t scared, not in the traditional way. “Luke?” she asked, again, once she was close enough to tug the curtain aside.
“No,” the Bat said. He appeared on the frame, in something of a crouch, and yet more relaxed, as if men folded up like fans to fit in flat boxes every day. The sole of one boot had even purchase on the frame and his opposite shoulder leaned heavy against the creaking wood, and he seemed immobile though he had just settled there, and had not been there before.
The quick gray eyes always found threats first, and he looked at the knives on her bed before looking back at her. The negligee seemed to have no significance for him; he looked only at her face. “Back in town?” he said, neutrally.
“Oui,” she said, a response to his question about being back in town, her blue-gray eyes guarded, as if she was waiting to be chastised. She followed his quick gaze to the suit, thinking he was noticing it (and not the knives, not in particular). “Luke’s been helping me train,” she said by way of explanation. “Are you going to come in?” she offered again, voice as nonthreatening-quiet as ever. “Or should I change and meet you outside?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the locked door to her room, and then back at him. “It’s locked, and only Luke comes here,” she added, in case he needed any reassurance that it was safe to be there. She smiled a little, because it struck her how unnecessary it probably seemed to him, her concern for his safety.
The Bat was surprised by the revelation of joint training just long enough to realize he shouldn’t be. He wasn’t sure that Luke was skilled enough to be teaching others, because it was ten times as difficult to pull a punch than go full tilt, but as he reflected, he realized Luke was very skilled, and relative to Thomas at his own age, his learning curve was very steep. He said none of this aloud, however, staying still and focused even as he thought. “I am fine here. I came to talk, that’s all.”
He looked at the door, and wondered precisely how often Luke was coming here (to him it seemed extraordinarily feminine and lacy, to the point of discomfort). He decided not to ask, or even come close to asking. It didn’t even occur to him that his safety was even remotely at risk in such a place. (At least, not beyond what it typically was in the suit.)
She glanced a this feet on the sill, and then she nodded. “Give me a minute?” she asked, and she didn’t wait for his answer before walking to the dresser and pulling out a pair of track pants she’d bought for training with Luke. A t-shirt was found in another drawer, and she disappeared into the room’s bathroom to change. There was something about being half dressed around Luke’s father that bothered her. It was, she realized, the first time she’d had that reaction around an adult male.
She walked back out a few seconds later, tugging the wig off as she walked and dropping it on its stand. She stopped at the edge of the bed, and she sat on it, tugging the pins from her hair as she looked at him. He was only a few feet away, and she didn’t have to raise her voice to be heard. “Did you come to ask me not to talk to him anymore?” she asked candidly.
The Bat wasn’t interested in taking part in Wren’s private affairs. As soon as she got up he politely averted his eyes and, drawing up one knee, watched the rain glisten on the pavement outside the window while clothes rustled and drawers closed. The suit more than the cape kept him warm, and beads of water slid off his shoulder as he thought the situation over. He sincerely hoped that Luke was not sleeping with this girl and promising her things he could not give. It would be an awkward conversation to have. Maybe he could ask Max to have it.
He was still surprised at her expression as she returned, however. “No. Is that what he said I would say?”
She shook her head, even as she stacked the pins one-by-one-by-one on the bed. “No, but it’s what I would say if I was you,” she told him honestly; she was no more prone to mincing words than she had been when she’d left. “I left, and I made it hard for him, and I hurt him.” A sad smile. “And I’m not really the best person for someone like Luke to be around, am I?”
“No,” Thomas agreed, who did not believe in sugar-coating. “He is good for you to be around, however. It is fortunate for you to understand that. Next time, say your own goodbyes, and understand why they are difficult.” He was still a little annoyed at her for landing him with that.
She ran her fingers over the pins, back, forth, back again, and she watched them roll as she listened to him. “I want the best for him,” she finally said. “I want him to be happy. I know I hurt him, and we both know I’m not good for him.” She looked up at him, then, a little hurt in her expression at his own candor. “If you’re not here to tell me to stay away from him, even though you think I should, why are you here?”
Thomas would not be steamrolled, not in this suit. “I did not say you should stay away from him, or that I think you should. I said you aren’t the best person to be around him, not that you’re the worst. I came to ask about your plans for the future.” He was careful to control his expression and keep his gaze from moving to the knives again.
“I know Luke is good for me,” she said, knocking the pins apart and then bringing them back together. “I’m not what I really am when he’s around. But I’m not his friend because I want anything from him, not even for him to be a good influence on me,” she explained. She wasn’t sure if he would understand, but it was important to her, and she followed his gaze to the suit. “I want to do it without my ability. Luke gave me a comm, but I can give it back if you like.”
Thomas was surprised by all this--in successive turns. There was a silence, because obviously the cowl didn’t reveal any expression, and then he said, curiously, “What is it that you think you are?”
“I’m a nineteen-year old girl who’s been a hooker since I was fifteen. I dance in a strip club, and there are naked pictures of me in more places than you could imagine. I’ve seen and done things Luke doesn’t even know exist, terrible things,” she said, knocking the pins apart again. “That’s what I am.”
“That’s not what you are,” he said. “That’s what you’ve done. They are not the same thing, Miss Maheu.” He didn’t use the title out of some odd sarcasm or an inability to communicate.
She looked up at him, surprised by the statement. “You don’t think the things you do make you who you are? The things you’ve experienced? Luke and I argue about that. He’s good in a way I can’t ever be. He’s noble, and he isn’t dirtied. Even with what happened in the warehouse, he never looks at me like the men out there do,” she said, motioning toward the door. Her voice hadn’t risen even a little as she spoke, but her fingers on the pins stilled entirely.
“Those are things you have done, or have been done to you. You haven’t said what you want to do and, therefore, who you want to be.”
“I want,” she began, the phrase a strange one on her tongue. She almost tripped over the two simple words, and then she went silent a moment. “I want other girls not to end up like me, and I want Luke to be happy.” She looked down at the pins again, rolling them back and forth. “I’d like it if he was happy with me, but that isn’t as important as him being happy.”
“Set Luke aside for a moment; he can take care of himself and his happiness.” And Thomas would make sure Luke was healthy and well enough to be happy, but he didn’t mention that part. “Do you like working here?”
It was a strange question, and she tipped her head to the side like the bird her mother had called her. “It’s better than the streets. The man who owns this place, he doesn’t ask as much, and I could never pay my rent in Hamartia most months. Here there’s a roof, and it’s safer,” she said. One of the pins rolled off the bed and onto the wood floor, and she watched it go. “And I’m lucky to have it, the job. When Quinn was missing, I did all sorts of things to try and find her that make it hard for me to get work now. No one likes to pay for things they can get for free on the internet.”
The Bat was silent, thinking. He didn’t move, or nod, or look away. He just--thought. These revelations posed a serious problem for Thomas, Inc. Hiring Wren, who had a legal but dangerous pornographic record, could turn into a PR nightmare for not only him, but Luke as well. He didn’t want to stick Wren in a basement, but he also couldn’t hire her prominently without coming under serious scrutiny as to how and why. The company was being watched with a microscope for places the Bat could be hiding. However... “A women’s rescue shelter might be more in tune with your goals,” he said, mildly.
She was smart enough to know what all that silence meant, and she just nodded at his suggestion. “I understand,” she said, and she hadn’t really been expecting anything different, no matter what Luke had said on the matter. “Thank you, though, for letting me know yourself,” she said quietly, no anger and no ire, only a bit of resignation in her tone. “Should you be out in the suit?” she asked a second later, intentionally shifting the conversation.
“I mean working at one,” he said, ignoring that. “For a paycheck.” In case the clarification was necessary.
She stood, picking up the pins and retrieving the one that had rolled away. “I know,” she said, setting them neatly in the drawer before turning to look at him. “I didn’t ask Luke for a job because I wanted a handout. I didn’t ask at all. He was stressed and tense, and it was just about him having a friendly face there. It was for him, not for me,” she said with a tiny shrug that said okay, maybe it had been a nice dream, but it was only a dream. “I knew you’d say no.”
“I didn’t think you’d asked him. He wants you to be happy and take care of yourself, which you are capable of doing without him.” They both knew that Wren’s face at Thomas, Inc. wouldn’t help the boy in the least. Quite the contrary, would turn people against him. They couldn’t all be Orin Monarch. “He meant that you don’t have to work in this industry if you don’t want to.”
“I thought he wanted my help, or that it would make it easier for him if I was there,” she said, closing the drawer with the pins, and then taking a seat at the dresser, her arm over the back of the chair as she turned to look at him. “I didn’t think about what my presence around him would mean, I guess.” She smiled at him a little. “He was worried about you,” she added quietly.
“People who care,” he said, quietly, “worry.” He shifted in a sudden flurry of movement, becoming wide and then slim in profile, a bending shadow. He looked back and pinned her with a serious, opaque gray gaze. “If you want to do something different, all you have to do is ask.” He stepped out onto the pavement and then down the alley, leaving the window empty and the curtains wet.
She watched him go, and she didn’t turn in her chair until she could no longer hear movement outside. “What is the point in a different job,” she asked her reflection, quietly, “when you’re not already not good enough to be around the people you care about?”