(2015-11-21) Food and Plans
Food and Plans
Summary: Terry feeds a stray, and he and Isabeau come up with a tentative plan that Isa will likely be kicking herself for.
Date: Nov 21 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..terry..

Shady Glen Apartments Stratford
Sat Nov 21, 2015 — Sat Nov 21 02:21:58 2015


This gated community of five buildings of apartments looks like it was built in the 1970's, and compared to other multi-family places in town it it isn't all that bad.

The buildings are two stories with balconies and solid brick constuction. At one time the bricks were red, but time and the desert heat and sand have taken their toll on the color. On the side of each building is a large letter, A, B, C, D, and E. There are various parking areas both covered and not and dusty cars are dotted through them.

In the center of all the apartment buildings is a larger one story building, the club house, which looks newer then the buildings that surround it and is equipped with an array of solor panels on the roof.


Weather:
It is fall. The weather is cool and drizzling.

The cool drizzle heralding the beginning of the new day is both a blessing and a curse for Terry Collins. On one hand, he's been meaning to get a shower, and a cold shower always helps with waking up. On the other hand, those with decent vision might be able to pick out his silhouette. He's been standing watch on the roof of one of the apartments, covered in a homemade ghillie suit. The nose-end of his rifle sticks out from beneath the ghillie net attached to his suit; behind it, the sniper takes inventory of his surroundings, keeping watch this day…

A rough sniff might be heard from the shape huddled beneath the large blue piece of plastic tarp, and a small sneeze erupts shortly after. Isabeau peers beneath the tarp, large green eyes focused unhappily on the building as she makes her way up from the direction of pine street. She's kinda hard to miss even in the gloom, that big blue blob moving slowly. Her chin tips up, eyeing the building, wavering on those last few steps that will carry her into the complex.

Terry feels a tap on his heel, the signal that his watch is over, just as Izzy shows up. He backs out of his 'nest' and swaps with another member of Camp Hope, making his way into the apartment proper, and swapping his shirt, at least, for a clean one. He still smells a bit, but the rain's knocked most of the funk away. He then heads down to the street. To the untrained eye, nothing had changed up top. Maybe a tarp had picked up a little gust of wind, if anything.

"Hey!" Terry says, offering a wave, once he's hit terra-firma.

Isabeau sniffles, those large green eyes focusing on Terry as he touches down. At least in the department of funky odor, he is in decent company. She smells faintly of wet horse and other things, huddled under her makeshift raincoat. "Hi, Terry." It's not exactly enthusiastic, but then she's fairly well soaked through. "Don't suppose there's any chance of a hot shower and something that doesn't smell like Bandit used it as a blanket is there?" There's a lopsided smirk, "If not I'll be quite content to get out of the rain. Took a bit to get some stalls in the zoo cleaned out. Figured I'd take you Bob an Piper up on your offer, that is if your still willing to take in a wet stray."

Terry chuckles audibly, and makes a beckoning motion. "Come on in.. Mi casa es su casa." He rolls his shoulders, and heads inside. "Help yourself.." He points out where the amenities are — shower, privy, etc. "If you need a change of clothes, I've got a few spares, unless you're against getting into a guy's clothes."

Isabeau follows in, Shedding the tarp and dropping several rather large pack bags in a corner with care. The tarp gets left out and she shakes her head a little before remembering that she's inside. "Oops, sorry." Sheepish. "No qualms, so long as they are warm and dry. " There's a headtilt, "Though if we've only just met and I'm already in your pants… does that mean your easy mate?" Already making a be-line for the shower, she tosses the tease over her shoulder. Another sneeze following shortly after.

"It was a joke!" Terry calls, smirking to himself. "Are you hungry? I made some venison steak and rice earlier. I've got some flour tortillas, we could do something with 'em.." He offers, with a shrug, while Izzy does her thing.

Isabeau peeks around the doorframe with a snort, "I was joking too." She offers with a wry twist of expression. "Famished, found some cans of soda earlier, few candles as well. They are in the rucksack." Before disappearing into the sound of wet clothes striking the linoleum. Some girls can take hours to change clothes, but she reemerges after a few minutes clean, and in clothes that don't quite fit, the sopping mess that is everything she was wearing hung over the shower rod along with the towel she was using. Her hair is loose now, a mane of sorts now that it's been freed from the usual braid. (and likely shaken out in the safety of the shower from most of the water.) "I would murder, for a hot shower." Something downright indulgent and wistful in that rich alto of hers as she pads back in. in a pair of his sweats, and a tee-shirt that hangs rather loosely over her frame. "Thank you."

The smell of well-prepared venison cuts through the air midway during Isabeau's sort-of-shower. Once Isabeau makes her appearance in the kitchen area, Terry's working on disassembling a cooked slab of the stuff, and whipping up a nice wasabi mayonnaise to flavor the meat. The rice is still cooking, though. "Hot water would've been lovely, I know, but we haven't got that sorted out just yet." Terry notes, upon hearing her enter the kitchen. "Hopefully this makes up for it." He finishes up the tacos and rice, portions out two plates worth (leaving the rest on the stove to keep warm), and offers one to Isabeau.

The smell, has her honing in like a magnet to iron, settling herself into an open seat and staring at it like a starving man who hasn't seen food in a week. "How is it, the world comes to an end, and you can still make something that smells soo…" She shakes her head pulling up one of the tortilla's and biting into it, with an expression of pure pleasure. "Almost makes you feel human again." She notes with a deep contented sigh.

Terry settles into a chair himself, and digs in, making sure to rein in his appetite enough to where he keeps his eating civil. "You spend as much time overseas as I have, and you learn to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear… Bread and water becomes a five-star dinner." A beat. "And I always volunteered for KP duty so I could have a hand in food prep-work.. otherwise, everything got sand-blasted by seasoning, or not enough seasoning.." He shakes his head, and sighs quietly. "You should see what I can do with a real kitchen, and farm-fresh ingredients."

"Overseas isn't so bad, depending on where you are." She notes, between bites, civil, but hardly ladylike in her own eating habits. "Grew up in New Zealand, Mum used to travel quite a bit." Which might explain the accent, there's an odd smile as she studies the man over her plate. "You'd have loved the ranch. We grew everything ourselves, dad was one of those crazy doomsday preppers, believed in self-sufficiency and living off the grid." Her smile fades as though remembering something. "Not that it helped him in the end."

Terry listens intently between bites of his taco, savoring the bursts of flavor in his mouth. "Most of my family's done service in some form or another… police, fire, medical, Army, Navy, Coast Guard.. Marines." At the last he points a thumb at himself. "Dad was Force Recon, came home from Lebanon looking like he'd seen a whole mess of ghosts. Didn't change anything about him, though… still a drunk wife-beater. When he came after Finn - my little brother - with a broken bottle one night, I put his lights out. He was my dad, so I didn't want to kill him, just get it through his drunk-ass skull that laying hands on Mom or Finn was not going to be tolerated under that roof."

Isabeau studies him between bites, listening as he talks. The last, has faint lines forming on her forehead. "Shit." Isabeau breathes, starting into the rice. "Explains why you so worried about Finn, you looked after them didn't you. Him and your mum." She considers it a moment. You think he might really still be in Fremont? If I were a gambler I'd say he was smart enough to start moving south."

"Yeah… We kept in touch where we could, while I was serving my country. He was doing well.. graduated college, medical school, and a four-year residency at Baystate Franklin Medical Center just up the block from our house. A few days after I got back stateside, I got one of those 'prison' phone-calls…" Terry finishes his taco, and relaxes, though his face reads like a worried parent. "He'd been caught trying to sign out meds under false pretenses. They wanted him to go through six months of rehab, minimum, before they'd even consider letting him back into his residency program. If he failed rehab, he'd do time.."

When her plate is clean, she takes it to the sink, then frowns at the old habit, before reclaiming her chair pulling her knees up to her chest. "He was lucky, that tends to be the sort of thing they give you the ''one strike'' and your out on." Rubbing her arms absently as she listens. "What did you end up doing?"

"I couldn't do anything. I'd always have his back, but he had to own up to his mistakes. I told him as much. I later found out that he decided to throw in the towel, did his time in rehab, and dropped out of the residency program anyway." Terry explains, looking like he'd really let someone down. "He bounced across the States, picking up jobs where he could find them.. got a sport pilot license when he lived in Phoenix. Moved back in with the folks back in January, then got spaced out on pills again, woke up somewhere else, and came home to find both Mom and Dad dead. Called 911 and ran."

"Did the police figure out what happened?" She wonders of his parents, and his brother's sudden life on the run. "When was the last time you actually saw him?"

"Second day of September, back in Nebraska, at the old camp. It was.. interesting. I was out working with some fellow Hopers, scavenging Main Street in Inglewood. I caught this glint out of the corner of my eye, something moved.. and I got 'that' feeling." Terry responds, repositioning himself to be more comfortable. "I lunged at it — turned out to be a person — and we wrestled. Being evenly matched, it turned into more of a slap-fight than anything.. and then things kinda got a little blurry after I got a good look at the guy. It was hot, I was sweating.." Oh, yes, right. Sweating.

Isa rubs at her arms as she listens, sinking a little more into the chair. "Why didn't he come with you?"

Terry comes back with two plates, same as before. Fresh tacos, delicious meat, creamy wasabi mayonnaise. He settles in again. "I practically begged him to come with me, truth be told. He said 'no', told me he didn't like the idea of being stuck in one area for long stretches of time. No matter what I did, what I said, he stood firm on the issue."

Isabeau flinches a little knowing she's used those words herself within the last week. "Can't turn people into something they aren't mate." She offers gently over the plate digging in a little more slowly this time. She considers the food, and tugs a little at one leg of the sweatpants. Her eyes close a moment and she opens them again. "It'd be a pretty big risk, especially if anyone could track us back here, but if you think you can handle the ride." Not that she'd be of particular use, but she can offer what she can. "But I meant what I said about a plan, an if you find him, and he still refuses…"

"If he still refuses, I won't bother him any more. I won't stop thinking about him, or caring about him, though. He's still my little bro." Terry responds. "Still family." He rises from his seat, and stetches, feeling a bit stiff. "And if anyone tracks us back here, and they want to get at the camp, they'll have to go through me." Dead serious, that one.

Isabeau nods, perhaps understanding. "That's the thing that concerns me mate." Isabeau notes deathly serious, "We fuck it up and they will." She manages to finish off the Taco, but the warm food and the dry clothes have taken their toll. She stretches catlike, before curling up again. "I leave figuring out the plan to you soldier boy, but we need to be back before the snow hits, otherwise it'd be best to wait until the spring."

Terry nods. "Well.. I'll get back to you on that." He bites into his taco, enjoying the (albeit limited) flavor. It reminds him of home, and everything he's gone through over the years. As he finishes his taco, he stretches and yawns, before catching himself. "I'm gonna hit the sack.." Perhaps, after a good night's sleep, he'll have a better plan.

"I'll take the couch." Terry says. "Bed's yours, until we can get a permanent place squared away."

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