Banshee Arrives! Who: Sean and Theresa Cassidy - Father and Daughter Yaaay! What: Meeting Sean at the Airport When: Monday - late afternoon, around dusk Where: JFK Airport, and a little cafe near the Institute Rating: G/PG
The plane fight from Dublin to New York City was unpleasant in the best of circumstances. Flying coach, it was a fairly close approximation to Hell. But here he was, too many hours later, touching down on American soil. His Interpol credentials got him through Customs without too much hassle and as soon as he cleared security he kept a sharp eye and ear out for a red-haired lass of his acquaintance.
Hopefully, she did actually remember that he was coming in to see her. They had a fair bit to discuss. And even thinking that much about it spiked his blood pressure.
Terry couldn’t remember a time during which one would greet new arrivals just outside the gate. It was probably for the better, since she didn’t have a circumstance to compare it to. She stood, shifted her weight, found a place to sit, wandered the hall, bought a bottled tea, sat some more...she was told to arrive early, in case there were crowds. But in her experience, planes were always late to touch down, and this case was no exception.
She wasn't given any indication of what she was to look for. Not that she had forgotten what her father looked like, but she'd overlooked more obvious things before, and she had a lot on her mind. It was making her anxious. Hadn't she just years ago eagerly anticipated visits from her father. Had things changed really that much?
But, she supposed, when someone says 'we have things to discuss,' it was rarely a cordial visit. She took a hefty swig of her tea, and twisted the cap back on to place into her purse. Her father should be emerging from the sea of travelers any moment. She needed to have a free hand to help with his bags.
He spotted her before she saw him - still a slender girl, so like his beloved wife Maeve. Seeing her, scanning the crowd, her green eyes looking worriedly out, broke his heart all over again. Seeing her like that just brought back to mind how fiercely he loved his daughter, and how much their mutual tempers had given them the more-destructive-than-they-should-be screaming matches.
Chuckling to himself, he made his way to where his daughter waited.
Terry looked up from her purse, where she had successfully managed to shove the half-consumed bottle of tea between her cell phone and sunglasses. As her eyes rose to scan through the distance, her inquisitive eyes met upon a familiar face. A smile lit up her face, and she quickly jumped to her tip-toes, waving an arm in greeting at her father.
After waving a few times, she trotted up towards him, politely excusing herself as she began to weave through the crowd. She clutched her purse close to her hip, and hurried to his side. She caught her breath for a second, greeting him with a rare breathlessness. “How was your flight?”
He held off answering her question before he’d claimed his fatherly hug, thus continuing the age-old embarrassment of children by their parents. “It was … well, it was.” he said with a shrug. “Not my favorite thing to do.” he said, readjusting his garment bag over his shoulder. “You look well.” he said with a fond smile. “New York agrees with you.”
“I’m adaptable.” Upon being released from Sean’s swallowing arms, Terry held up her hands expectantly, gesturing for Sean to release his bag into her care. “Though the summers aren’t the greatest.”
She gave an inviting smile, almost daring her father to resist handing over a piece of luggage. “How long are you plannin’ to stay?” She beckoned with all of her fingers impatiently, all but demanding Sean hand the bag over.
Sean relented and handed the bag over to her insistent care. “Couple of weeks.” he said, his Northern Irish accent coming through a little more strongly than usual. “Maybe longer, if things develop. He then started meandering over towards baggage claim to get his poor suitcase before the machine devoured it or before the TSA decided to search his skivvies for explosives.
Terry hoisted the bag up over her shoulder with a small grunt, and followed her father to the baggage claim. She fixed her eyes on the conveyor belt, and let a pause settle between them before speaking again. “Things develop?” She echoed, “Such as..?”
“Ye know I can’t talk business.” he said fondly. “I still keep my hand in with Interpol. Keeps me in scotch and scones.” he said teasingly. “Might be a case here in the States.” he said blandly. “So.” he said, blatantly changing the topic. “Any young lads out there I should be givin’ a talkin’ to?” he asked.
Terry’s sunny expression quickly dulled. She arched her eyebrows haughtily and pulled her lips into a discerning frown. “Hardly.” Her voice rose an octave with her response, and her shoulders hunched a bit from awkwardness. She peered at her father from the corner of her eye and cracked a muted smile. “I’ll let you know if there is one, though...”
Sean smiled blandly. “So I don’t need to paint my shotgun white quite yet.” he said with a grin at his child. “American boys just can’t appreciate a fine Irish lass like yerself.” he said, finally spotting his poor battered government-issued suitcase on the carousel. “Ah, here we go.” he said, reaching over for the parcel before she or anyone else could.
“If not American, then what, Da’?” Terry quipped, taking a few steps away from the conveyor belt. The sooner they got out of the airport, the better, she concluded. Catch-up was far more appropriate for a cafe or someplace comfortable. The sterile smell and the fluorescent lighting of the airport made Terry weary, for some reason - like she was a worker ant in a glass pane, or a lab rat under observance.
And the opening volleys of their favorite argument had just been fired. Time to get out of the airport before multiple someones went deaf or the roof collapsed. Sean got his suitcase’s handle extended and dragged it behind him on its little rollers. “Thought I’d stay up in Westchester this time.” he offered. Closer to the school, for one, and close enough to the city that he could take the train in and be there in an hour or so.
“Suit yourself.” Terry huffed, turning up her nose a bit. “Don’t think tha’ I didn’t notice you avoidin’ the question.” She turned to face Sean with a pointed look. “You goin’ to be busy, or have you penciled away a spot for me?” She took a few steps ahead of her father, musing in a sing-song voice. “I’ll have to start lookin’ for love elsewhere if my father’s too busy for his only daughter! Flesh and blood!”
“Aye. Got a nice cozy spot all picked out for ye, so ye can go mad in your spinsterhood.” he said with a laugh. “And this is not a business trip, Terry. I’m here to visit my poor unloved flesh-and-blood, wasting away her youth with Chaucer and Tennyson and, Gods help me, Twilight.” he said with a laugh. “Please tell me yer not that daft. Not yet!” he mock-wailed.
“Agggh!” Terry’s face twisted in disgust. “You think I’d be spending my free time reading something that wouldn’t help me boost my grades?” She stuck out her tongue, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t speak for the other girls here, but unless it’s in the non-fiction section, I won’t be touching it for quite some time...” Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but Sundays didn’t count, did they?
“Yer right. Nobody should read Tennyson. Bloody plonker.” he said with a laugh. “And I met a vampire once.” he said out of the blue. “Nasty bugger. Had to put him down, the poor bastard.” he mused as he dragged his luggage out of the airport to investigate this whole “cab” thing. “It’s all classified. Tip-top-secret, real hush-hush. Now that I’ve told you, I’ll have to kill you. Just makes that whole no-time-for-the-lads thing an even bigger shame.” he said with a laugh.
“Maybe you should force this Tennyson fellow on me.” Terry winked and followed Sean outside. She went to the curb to hail a cab, and then swooned. “‘Death by drivel!’ - that’s what you’d need to put on me tombstone.” She grinned.
“Twill be a grand gravestone, I can promise ye that. I’ll make sure it sparkles. Just for you.” he said as a cab finally stopped by the curb to let the two Cassidys in. “Westchester, please.” Sean said in a much more neutral accent. Turning to his daughter, he smiled at her. “And if you’re a good girl once I’m settled in we’ll go have a pint and a bit to eat. You can tell me how school is going.” he suggested.
“When am I not a good girl?” Terry folded her hands on her lap, giving her father an accusatory glance. “Certainly you have more exciting things to talk about than I do about my scholarly pursuits.” She looked outside at the passing buildings and crowded sidewalks, giving off an appearance of being distracted. “Has it changed a lot since you were last here?” She didn’t entirely know how long ago that was, but her father had been practically everywhere by now, she had assumed.
“Entirely too much of a bloody good girl for yer own good.” he muttered, not forgetting for an instant the insanely sharp Cassidy hearing that both father and daughter shared. “New York is New York. Last time I was here … oh, it was years ago. Nasty piece of business.” he said. And sometimes, when it was damp out, his arm ached thanks to a few New York assignments. “City looks the same, mostly. Fewer bums out, more tourists.” The towers he didn’t mention, as it didn’t merit mentioning. “So you like yer schoolin’ here in America?” he asked. “There’s some bloody good schools in Belfast, you know. Could be closer to home, get a fine education, make somethin’ of yerself.” he said.