(2015-11-18) Stranger in Town
Stranger in Town
Summary: Quinton, Terry and Piper encounter a lone woman named Isabeau
Date: 11.18-2015
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://mushname.wikidot.com/logtitle)
Players:
isabeau..pied-piper..quinton..terry..

There is an air of disquiet about Isabeau, as the newcomer rides into the center of the town, rifle strapped to her back and hat tipped down, like the star of some old western. The easy pace of the buckskin and paint in tow matched to the bay she rides speaking perhaps to a desire not to draw attention.

Quinton's walking back from the Reyes' buildings, having gone to discuss a few things. He's not attempting to sneak, as this part of town has been proven to be safe. The tall man has a jacket on with one of his signature sweaters underneath. The gun hosted is hidden. The backpack seems empty, meaning he's probably going to head out soon for some scavenging. His shaggy bangs are falling into his eyes as he scans the area, trying to decide what direction to go.

Another late start this morning, so instead of scavenging Piper decided to try her hand at fishing…it was a no go. But she did spot the horses and rider head into town. Not sure if the rider was a threat or not she set aside her fishing supplies and began to follow the rider. Being barefoot, she is light of step, moving through the town, staying out of sight and only coming out of cover when she is sure she won't be seen. The baby that is strapped to her chest with a long olive scarf like bit of material has other ideas. He's happy today and is making sure everyone knows it.

Terry makes his way back to the town center, having spent a good chunk of time scoping out the various buildings in town, figuring out which buildings, which rooms, could be sniper nests or lookout locations. He sports his usual gear: beige all-terrain boots, dark blue denims with the cuffs tucked into said boots, a black t-shirt beneath a loose-fitting green button-down shirt, with a dark gray jacket over the green shirt. A pair of black leather fingerless gloves can be seen sticking out of the left pocket of his pants. He carries a large beat-up tan rucksack with him today, enough to carry his primary weapon and still have room to spare, though that's been left back at camp for the time-being. He is, however, packing his trusty PK380 in a S.O.B. holster between the black and green shirts.

Terry makes his way back to the town center, having spent a good chunk of time scoping out the various buildings in town, figuring out which buildings, which rooms, could be sniper nests or lookout locations. He sports his usual gear: beige all-terrain boots, dark blue denims with the cuffs tucked into said boots, a black t-shirt beneath a loose-fitting green button-down shirt, with a dark gray jacket over the green shirt. A pair of black leather fingerless gloves can be seen sticking out of the left pocket of his pants. He carries a large beat-up tan rucksack with him today, enough to carry his primary weapon and still have room to spare. His primary weapon (a rifle) has been left back at camp for the time-being, however, opting instead to carry his trusty Walther PK380 in a S.O.B. holster between the black and green shirts.

Full lips press together into a line, as the hand not holding the reins slips to the shotgun in the saddle's holster. Her eyes focused forward it's when the child makes a noise, however, that the motion halts and she twist to pinpoint the sound, spotting Terry and the other male in the process. The horses stop, shifting their wait under the packs. The rider tips her hat up. "If you are looking for trouble, I'd suggest looking elsewhere." The clear dusty alto calls out after deliberation, the words for any one of them, or perhaps all.

Quinton wasn't even looking in the newbies direction, his mind elsewhere. So when the voice calls out he is startled slightly, twitching as he jerks around to look. pale eyes blink in surprise and his hands go up to show he's got nothing in them. "Hey, yeah…no trouble. Same to you." He does scan the woman's appearance, taking in her clothes and what weapons she has visible. "I'm…camped near here…don't want any trouble. You looking to trade?" that seems to be standard greetings now a days at the end of the world.

Despite her harmless appearance Piper is far from being so. The woman and child stay undercover watching as the woman stops. When the other woman begins to go for her weapon, Piper does to, easing the 9mm from its holster hidden under the snuggie. When Isabeau speaks and then is answered by a familiar male voice she eases out of hiding near the hotel, her gun ready and held in front of her but not trained on the woman at the moment.

Terry glances up as Isabeau pops into view, and then to Quinton as he speaks. He instinctively begins to reach for his SOB-holstered weapon, but immediately reconsiders, instead keeping his hands in full view. Besides, Piper's got her weapon out.. If anything, she can cover him while he goes for his equalizer. Hopefully it won't come to that.

Quinton is studied, large green eyes honing in on the birdlike man quickly. "Don't have much of anything left to trade, I lost three horses and the rest of my group." The rider notes shifting her weight in the saddle, the bay beneath her moving with. Her voice deceptively calm. "This how you folks usually plan an ambush?" Her weight shifting as she loops the reigns over the saddle horn and reaches for the shotgun. "Where the fuck are they!" Isabeau's jaw clenches. Notably she doesn't fire but the gun is trained on whoever happens to be the closest, Her horse turning with the shift of her hips in the saddle.

Quinton frowns, tensing but not reaching for his own gun, "No ambush…You walked in here. We're just…being safe. Same as you…" His pale eyes flicker around to see who else is there. Terry and then Piper . Seeing she has the baby he shakes his head softly. No Gunfire with a baby! What's wrong with people! "I'm …sorry about your group. We've all lost…We-" He changes the pronoun, "I can get you some food, on good faith?" He'll not speak for the other's food or their good faith.

Well that escalated quickly. Not that Piper is surprised by any of it. She is more surprised that more first encounters with survivors aren't all guns and threats. When the mounted woman does remove her weapon and aims it at Quinton her face tenses, the previously happy baby starts to whimper. Her dark eyes shift from Isa to Quinton, meeting eyes with him briefly, she's not going to let him get shot…again. A quick glance to Terry and then her eyes are back on Isa and she is slowly putting the weapon away, quietly stepping around so she is in view of the woman.

Not having a weapon in his hands, hopefully Terry exudes a non-threatening attitude. He glances between Isa, Quin, and Piper. "Yeah.. Let's put away our equalizers, and be civil." More a suggestion than an order. "Nobody needs to die today, especially in view of the kid." He continues, nodding to Piper's plus-one.

Isabeau is slow to lower her weapon, outnumbered and outgunned. As the weapons are put away and when the kid is in sight she finally lowers the shotgun. "You aren't bandits?" The look on her face shows she knows it is a stupid question, if they were they wouldn't tell her afterall. The bay shifts again, "Easy Bandit." A hand moving to pat the animal's neck. Maybe she should have rethought the name. "Thought the town might be empty."

Quinton seems to relax a hair as the guns are put away from his people and Isa's is lowered. He nods, encouragingly. "No…no bandits." Although a small, ironic frown appears when she calls her hours that. "We're surviving. Same as you." His hand doesn't lower just yet, but one does reach put to run through his shaggy hair. The blonde needs a hair cut desperately. "I was serious about the meal. Not enough of us left to deny that to each other.." And then he offers of a soft, but honest smile.

Piper continues to sidestep, one hand up the other patting the baby on the back as she tries to sooth his whimpering into quiet, if not the happy burbling noises he was making. She says nothing, eerily quiet as she just watches the other woman with her dark eyes that give nothing away. When she gets about half way between Terry and Quinton she pauses tilting her head at the woman.

"It *is* getting to be about that time," Terry nods in agreement with Quin, glancing at an imaginary watch. "What say we settle things over some food? I'll get cracking on a meal that'll knock everybody's socks clear into orbit… Venison steak and rice." He glances around for a yea/nay reaction.

"I hope you will forgive me if I seem disinclined to accept your invitation right away. The world's changed and manners can get you killed." The kid gets eyed again, and then the two men and the woman between him. "You guys ain't some kinda freaky breeding cult are you? Cause if that's the price of the meal…" Count her out. Bandit stamps a foot, and makes a soft sound. Isa looks down, With a shake of her head she dismounts. slipping the gun back into the holster. "If there's a place where I can water them, and maybe they can graze?" Looking around at the lack of green spaces in the town center. "Survivors are fewer and fewer these days." grabbing the leads on the animals.

"It *is* getting to be about that time," Terry nods in agreement with Quin, glancing at an imaginary watch. "What say we settle things over some food? I'll get cracking on a meal that'll knock everybody's socks clear into orbit… Venison steak and rice." He glances around for a yea/nay reaction.

"I hope you will forgive me if I seem disinclined to accept your invitation right away. The world's changed and manners can get you killed." The kid gets eyed again, and then the two men and the woman between him. "You guys ain't some kinda freaky breeding cult are you? Cause if that's the price of the meal…" Count her out. Bandit stamps a foot, and makes a soft sound. Isa looks down, With a shake of her head she dismounts. slipping the gun back into the holster. "If there's a place where I can water them, and maybe they can graze?" Looking around at the lack of green spaces in the town center. "Survivors are fewer and fewer these days." grabbing the leads on the animals.'

Quinton gives a side glance to terry but then sighs. His hands finally lower to a natural position at his sides, "It has changed…but that doesn't mean we have to." His eyes widen and his head shakes, mortified, "What? N-no! Jesus, no!" Breeding cult?!?! The tall man actually takes a small step backwards, "Look, we were just trying to be nice." He looks over at Piper, trying to tell something by looking at her. "There's not a lot of places for grazing…but we can get them water."

The diminutive mother just continues to study the mounted Isabeau, that's her thing, watching. Her arms go protectively around the infant when Isabeau's gaze falls on the pair. Piper's expression equally protective. Though the words from Isabeau have her, well she isn't sure if she should be offended, mortified like Quinton or something else. It settles on mostly the first.

Terry blinks at the 'sex cult' crack, and shakes his head, He attempts to keep his tone and demeanor as nice as possible for this next bit: "Look.. We're not some whackadoo Manson family or whatever… we're survivors, like you, and we're.. yeah, just trying to be nice." Quin said it best.

There's a look between the lot of them, but eventually the rider nods and tugs on the animal's leads. Piper is watched quietly, but Isabeau seems willing to fall into step. "Sorry, it's been a while since I've been around people. " Isabeau states.

Quinton watches her a moment longer and then sighs, "Ok…" He starts walking as well. "Playground has…grass.." He takes the lead and starts walking towards the school. Before looking at Terry, "If you want, go do whatever it is you're…planning. We'll be in the …pavilion." Sounds like while Quin is willing to give out free meals, he's not willing to walk people who he doesn't know up to where his people sleep. See? he can be cautious too!

"Alright. I'll get things going." Terry says, packing his gear and heading off to whip up some grub, a grin on his face. "You guys are going to *love* it…" He starts talking with his hands, outlining all of the ingredients.. a little bit of this and that.

Piper looks from Isabeau to Quinton and gives a nod at his idea. She is still unsure of the woman, but that's pretty status quo for her when strangers are involved. Terry is watched a moment as he heads off to prepare them a meal. Something else to be dubious about, but she doubts he will poison them on purpose. A few quick steps has her at the blonde man's side. If she were in Isabeau's position she wouldn't want an armed person behind her, just like they, or at least she, doesn't want an armed person behind them.

Isabeau is careful to keep them in view. Still there's something a little more human in her expression at the thought of a hopefully decent meal. She looks about too, constantly scanning the scenery. "This place mostly safe, or do you have the usual concerns?" Read: Someone sticking a gun in your ribs for what little you do have. "Playground should be fine, or if there's a park, I remember a railroad runs through this area somewhere." Pursing her lips at the thought.

Quinton instinctively moves to place itself between piper and Isabeau…just in case. Terry gets a nod and a soft, "..Thanks." Terry cooking is a new thing. "Mostly, yes….we've not had any…drone sightings…and other issues have been…minimal." He rubs the back of his head ta some memory. Iron skillets hurt. "There's two groups here. Both friendly." Not turf war happening.

It's hard to say which one is leading the way to their destination since Piper easily falls into the pace that Quinton sets staying at his side, even after he shifts into an unsurprisng protective position. Reaching into her backpocket she pulls out her pencil and little memo pad and writes a word on it "Names." and she shows it to Quinton. Sure he may get them wrong, but its better than referring to each other by hey you.

Isabeau arches a brow at the mention of two groups, a small line appearing between her eyebrows, those leads gripped just a tiny bit tighter. "Two groups." She echoes as though expecting a further explanation. The pencil and memo pad are noted with quiet observance.

Quinton glances over at the note and nods, "I'm Quinton. This is…" The name looks like he's struggling to get a word out and then frowns, looking at Piper, "This is Phoenix." He's still frowning, but clearly at himself. "We got here a month ago. The Valdez family has been here from the start of it all."

Isabeau takes mental notes as Quinton speaks. "Valdez family?" She echoes another question, before she remembers this thing called manners. "Isabeau, and The bay is Bandit, the paint Snow, and the buckskin is Lady." Not that anyone will talk to the horses the way she does, but it is in the name of politeness. "I feel like I'm missing a lot of history, didn't really get much information with the group I traveled with. We tended to avoid settlements unless we needed to trade."

The frowning face is what saves Quinton from Piper's. She can tell that he actually tried this time so that gets him brownie points and a reprieve. A brief touch on his arm showing that its okay. A glance up at Isabeau and the memo pad is put back in her pocket, apparently she is going with it for now, she correct it later if the opportunity comes up.

The hand on his arm has Quin glancing over, but the frown stays. He hates this. The poet takes a deep breath and nods, looking back to Isabeau, "Nice to meet you. Thanks for not..shooting me." Always appreciated. He gives a small shrug, "We've all missed a lot….we have to start…working together. It's the only way to win." Did he just say win? Like…win win?

Something in all of that exchange has Isa frowning deeply. "Not even sure it's possible anymore, not when you don't even know what you’re fighting against. "And the Kid?" Since there is a tiny, (presumably human) lifeform who has gotten tangled up in this fiasco.

There hasn't been much response from Piper in regards to the conversation being had though she finally does have something, a nod in agreement to the not shooting bit. No bulletholes in the poet is a good thing. A quick glance goes to the eastern horizon, where the large mothership perpetually hangs. A gigantic reminder that they were never alone in the universe. Mulder would be so happy! There is a subtle tensing when the last name is asked for, but she still isn't speaking.

Quinton nods, the frown melting away into something more thoughtful. "It is." He sounds like he believes it. Maybe he's the Mulder of the group! He glances to the babe that's nestled against piper in the snuggie, "That's Quinn." From the little bit of the top of the baby's head that can been seen, it's got it's mother's hair. Hard to tell the sex of the babe from the name.

The kid's name, draws those brows together, and there's a much more intense scrutiny. Quinton, Quinn. What are the odds after all. "So, you two are… well, you know. /breeding/?" Isabeau may have the right or wrong idea here.

The playground isn't all that far from the center of town, so after a few minutes of walking and conversing the small group reaches it. It's a large area with a pavilion under which picnic tables sit, a playscape and a duckpond, that even has a few ducks floating on it.

Strangely that question doesn't make the woman tense up…at least no more than Piper already was. A subtle shake of head is given to Quinton, though is she telling him to answer that way or that he doesn't have to answer the question, hard to say. Last time it was just ignored.

Quinton frowns again, his eyes narrowing, "Do you mean, am I the father? No. Not that it's any of your business." It's really the first time Quinton's been a little ruffled. The look he gives makes it clear the topic of the Babe's father is over. It still makes Quinton's blood pressure spike and he wants to punch things. Instead as they sit down he changes topic, ask basic things, about any drone sightings or bandits in the area. Always good to know.

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