Henri Bean, Maintenance Girl

[Henri Bean] *Incessant buzzing. She could have called of course. But why call when one is in the neighborhood, and can instead lean on the bell in an attempt to recreate the drum beat from My Sharona. Half singed, the frizz topped teenager bounces from foot to foot impatiently outside Kage's complex, skin prickling from the cool night breeze. A man in a sleek sports car rolls by, one hand on the steeringwheel, the other greedily shoving a BigMac into his dribbling maw with little concern to a college student trying to cross the street. The blare of a horn adds to the city's noise as the vehicle and the co-ed play chicken down the street.*

[K. R. Jakes] [I'm aware, you're aware, we're all aware?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. Jakes] The gate is fastened (the hold is barred) and there is no chink in the apartment building's defenses today (no neighbor, unsuspicious of visitors). Henri buzzes, and buzzes, and buzzes, and it's entirely possible that Kage isn't home; her black truck of monstrous proportions, in which Henri has found herself on various unpleasant occasions, is nowhere to be seen. Then again, it isn't like the complex has a parking lot out front. Just the green scrub of an almost-yard, just the little wind-y path up to the stoop, the hold-the-door-open-for-the-world brick has been thrown as far from the front door as possible, and the building's old intercom system adds a whine to Henri's isistent button pushing.

Upstairs, Kage tries to use the intercom to tell whoever it is to calm down, hold on; it doesn't work. The super should get on that; the super won't, Kage knows from long experience. Finally, Kage drags herself out of her couch, shoves her feet into her cartoon dragon slippers, and walks down the stairs. And it's Henri. She knows, when she opens the front door, framed by the dark stairwell up. Knows that it's a Henri who doesn't feel like a Nephandi, which is a plus. Kage's expression is a touch guarded; her eyes tarnished up with wariness, but also - a gleam. She's pleased to see the diminutive Ether Queen. She's ready to be pleased, anyway. She's also ready to be told Henri's robot army won't stop stealing panties from Trannies and would Kage please come and help.

"Hey," she says. "C'mon in and up."

[Henri Bean] *No. It was no nephandi belting out eighties hair rock on Kage's intercom. Henri's owlish face lighting with a gleeful shine as the weary orphan emerges from her house. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, the scorched scientist crows.*

Criminey! Your tella-bloke machine don't work or summin? Been out here freezin my she-pebbles straight north!

*Kiwi speak, and plenty of it, as Henri clatter clanks past Kage into the apartment with all the thoughtless entitlement of someone who lived there. As she struts in like a bantan rooster, her smell fills the enclosed space. Grape soda, metal, and the overpowering odor of acrid smoke and burnt hair. Electric blue eyes blink from under a wild halo of black frizz, taking in Kage with a tilt of her head.*

Was you sleepin mate? Didn't mean to wake a sheila up....

[K. R. Jakes] Kage regards the wild mechanical frizz of Henri's hair as Henri struts in. As they go up, up the stairs, into the apartment Henri knows well enough, with its shining new kitchen counter, almost obscenely new compared to the rest of the dilapidated (aging [gracefully? heh?]) place. Some part of her knows what her own older sister'd say, or try to do, and she is irritated at herself for thinking in terms of conditioner. It makes her run her fingers through her own hair, red red red and messy.

"What's a tella-bloke machine? Why would I want a machine to tell a bloke anything?" Kage asks, of Henri. And then, with the ghost of a smile -- something pale, and diminishing: "I wasn't asleep. It's been a long weekend. Want something to eat?" A pause, and Kage -- who has circled into the kitchen -- rests her palms against the counter, leaning forward. Her eyebrows lift, and she says, "What are you working on these days, Miss Henri Bean Ether Queen? Catch a woman up. Tell me the story of your life, as will not be splashed in Gentleman Inventors Quarterly, huh?"

It doesn't seem as if robots stealing panties is the problem. Still. Kage wants to be sure.

[Henri Bean] Oh, your intercom thing mate? Should be able to just buzz a bozy up rather'n have to hustle down on your own two. Sort of defeats the purpose of having one....

*Curiousity running rampant, the slender teenager peers about the complex in greater detail. Her mind on security these days, as she worked on the lafette's own defenses. She makes a ruckus heading up the stairs and into Kage's apartment, all clattering and clanking and clonking of heavy boots. Made for stealth she was not, the Ether queen. A bright manic smile as Kage addresses her as such. Henri hops up on the counter beside the orphan, belatedly removing a gadget from under her bony ass with a hiss of pain.*

Fuck a Duck. Ow.

Anyway, betcha there's plenty of blokes what you'd like to tell a thing to. You'n Gregor'd make a hansum pair, whenever he gets back from his vacation. All worryin like you do.

*As to the story of her life, it seems for once the Bean's response is a shy kinda bob of her shoulders. *

[K. R. Jakes] Kage is cool, casual, a creature of composure; of understated elegance and reserve. Kage is poised. Kage is also, today, bone-tired, heart-weary, and she has burned whatever willfulness she generally has low. Which is to say, her half-rueful half-amused smirk changes to a widening of the eyes, and then an utterly gorgeous, utterly luminous grin, shocked laughter cupped in her gaze, brimming over. "I'll tell the super. He isn't usually very quick when it comes to doing his job," and this, deadpan: "Unless it's the part of his job that involves collecting bills, or writing them." The grin just begins to fade, when - " - His vacation? What vacation?" Henri sort've bobs her shoulders, shy, and Kage pushes away from the counter, opens her refrigerator, and pulls out some left-over eclairs or cookies or baked somethings or other, something sweet.

[Henri Bean] Vacation mate. Tahiti. Came to me in a dream all trickys like. You know how them dreamspeakers are. Speakin' in dreams.

*A wide grin as she hops back down from the counter with a clank, and moseys over towards where the intercom is, arbitrarily getting out a screwdriver and beginning to remove the faded faceplate. A glance over her shoulder as Kage rummages in the fridge.*

Got anything chocolate? I'm gonzo for chocolate. Ain't had a nibble since yesterday on account of bein' busy.

*She doesn't mention that she was busy ...running from the police... after lighting up the waterfront with an overlarge arsenal of homemade fireworks*

[K. R. Jakes] Kage doesn't notice Henri, idling toward the intercom plate, Henri with a screwdriver that should strike more fear in the heart's of badguys than Doctor Who's (and Kage isn't a bad guy, but she is justly cautious of Gentlemen Inventors, even when they're ladies - especially when they're ladies - like Henri). She might have something to say when she does notice.

As it is, "Busy with what?" There may be things left unmentioned. Kage usually asks about them. It's almost as if she had a sixth sense -- and maybe she did. Awakened people: you never know. "I've got chocolate mousse cake. Half-eaten, but it's still chocolate. Chocolate tea, too. Tiger's eye: it's creme brulee and chocolate." Kage likes tea. Henri knows this, by now. Kage's voice is a shade distant, because she's thinking over, wincing over, Henri's insistence that Gregor is in Tahiti. Kage knows Gregor was still alive a month ago, on a visionquest; that he didn't want help. That's a little like being on a vacation.

A beat. And - "Hey, did you know it was Israel's birthday on Friday?"

[Henri Bean] Oh you know... with things....

*Things having absolutely nothing to do with why she was at Kage's right now, rather than on the good ship Lafette. Where Atlas no doubt was waiting. To beat her. Or at least give her a long boooooring lecture on discretion and how the Lafette doesn't need protection against rockets Which was madness in Henri's opinion, as you never knew when someone was going to hit you with a rocket until they up and hit you with a rocket, and then where were you? Rocketted. Thats where.

A screw squeaks, threads stripped already. It'd need a new one before she was through, one of her hands fumbling about in a pocket and coming up with wire strippers and a chunk of tinfoil. Tinfoil was an etherites second hand man. Her 1st hand man being ducttape. A tongue protrudes as Henri squints at the intercom intently.*

Friday? Mousse sounds brilliant mate. I'm get her a pressie then. Maybe make her sumphin nice. OH! Think she's got a thing she'd like turned to gold or some'in like?

[K. R. Jakes] "Robot things? Things that explode? Or self-replicate? Or de-construct base matter and re-construct it in another shape? Laser things? Boy things? Girl things?"

A beat. The mousse cake is put on the counter that divides the kitchen from the dining room and the living room, in all its medieval/modern glory, and Kage sets a couple of forks on the counter next to it. She doesn't mean to get any plates. And, of course, now she sees that Henri's messing with the intercom.

Says, "The Friday which just passed. I don't know if she'd like anything that's gold; she couldn't see it, although I suppose it might feel nice." A beat. "I know she liked the roller derby."


[Henri] Ummmmm... a little from column A.. a little from Column B.... And bollox to boy/girl things. Bloody trouble they are. Boys I mean.

An you should of been at that Derby mate. Was brilliant mate. Gave you a dingle but you weren''t round!

*Muffled, a pair of pliers in her mouth, both greasy grimey hands digging around in Kage's intercom, as electricity bzzzts and tinfoil sparks. Working live, it would appear. The Bean was Fearless. Or so one might beleive if they hadn't had to haul her crying self out of their cupboards. Henri gets a tiny jolt and hisses, dragging the goggles gregor had gotten her down over wide eyes before looking to the weary redhead with a "I didn't just get shocked" smile.*

How you been Sheila? What you been doin?

[K. R. Jakes] "I would have liked to see it," Kage says, with a faint (moon's shadow, smoke) smirk. Kage would've liked to see Israel busting out the moves. Kage would've been a little more hesitant about getting herself pushed into the madness. She doesn't know much about roller derbies, but they sound violent. "Maybe next time." And, apparently, she also likes to tempt fate. Henri says boys are bloody trouble, and Kage can't argue with that. Not with Him, hovering around, the things He says. He's not a man, but -

Kage doesn't really see Henri's 'I didn't just get shocked' smile. Kage is leaning her elbows against the counter, again. Distant, and tired, and drooping. She doesn't even seem to have noticed the suspicious - and dangerous sounding - electricity, the sparking; these wires are old. Bad things could happen. The building is flammable: this is Chicago, city of city-fires.

There is something about Henri that people see, and worry about. Henri acts like a child in so many respects. Kage doesn't try to baby her. Kage doesn't think she should be stopped from 'dangerous' experimentation on a Technocratic ball of goop, per se. Kage has principles, and Henri thinks. Kage hopes Henri thinks, believes it. Which is to say, Kage doesn't wave a hand and say Oh, nothing, nothing. Kage answers with this, grave-eyed: "I've been spending time at the White Fence House. It went and got itself attacked by a circle of Nephandi. And someone I knew died. There were bodies to deal with."

Here, half-wry - an attempt at humor (attempt, because her heart isn't really into it) - "You don't have a robot that could help with that, do you?"

[Henri] *Electric blue eyes blink behind her goggles as her frazzled, complicated little brain shifts gears from "red wire has rust, have to strip to wick. Nanobots could be utilised for upkeep?" to "Droopin Kage? Dead buddies? Ohnos!" Another snap of electricity as Henri quickly does a patch job on the wiring of the intercom, and slaps the faceplate on with a single screw. Clatter clanking approach abrupt and tenative at the same time. She should do something. What would gregor do? ...somehow sighing in worry didn;t seem appropriate. But - AH! There's the solution. One hand hauls up her pants to an acceptable level on scrawny hips, while the other scratches the back of her head. Stalling for time.*

I think that fucking house is bad mojo mate. I'd steer clear. Sorry. Bout your friend n' all.

* And I hope its no one I know. Selfish little thoughts make her wince as she pushes up her goggles, then abruptly flings her arms around Kage in a bruising, bony hug. Burying her head in the woman's shoulder. Her voice muffled as she crows with sad authority.*

Robots don't give hugs for shit.

[K. R. Jakes] The Orphan flinches. Not because Kages are shy, shying creatures, half-mythic, who inhabit twilit worlds at the edge of noise and away from crowds, where Touch is an alien idea, and Hugs are strange things spoken of in legends. But because Henri's hug was a bruising sort of bony hug, and Kage is already very bruised. There are ugly, ugly purple and black (plums, squooshed) marks all over her back, in the shape of a lock, ornate, Victorian, thank you very much Paradox, you paranoid fuck. The Orphan flinches, and her eyes get a little shiny, and her breath leaves her with an oof, and then she hugs Henri back. Gingerly. The slender -- and small; not too tall at all -- red-haired woman touches Henri's hair, and swallows. Then she says: " - you could just be saying that so I don't think you're a robot. But how do I know, really?"

[Henri] Aw, you don't really think I'm a robot.... *Its said as though Kage had just declared the owlish girl Pretty (which she was not). Or Brilliant. (which she was.) Smoke. Kage can no doubt nearly taste it. Its like the damn etherite rolled around in a burning building for awhile until she was good and saturated. And knowing Henri Bean, she may well have for god knows what reason. Henri gives a big sigh, unabashed as she squishes the bruised orphan in a good bear hug. It seemed once she'd committed to a thing, she was in it for bust. Dylan's friend, maurader or not. Goopy's keeper, even if it was "evil". There was something to be said for the silly kid's staying power. Henri sighs again and rocks from foot to foot, awkwardly. Her pants sloooowly making a break for the ground.*

[K. R. Jakes] "Your construction is very cunning, if you are a robot," Kage replies, not precisely saying yes, not precisely saying no. Kage is really good at answers like that. If Henri doesn't release her, she -- gently, but firmly, gravely-- detaches herself from the frizzy-haired Etherite anyway, and says, "C'mon. Help me polish off this cake. And tell me what it's like, living on the Lafette."

[Henri] [and fade to cake eating and lafette jabbering and henri fixing the intercom. And promising to come back soon to make it EVEN BETTAR]

[K. R. Jakes] [dundunDUNNN.]