ArchivedLogs:Helping Things Grow

Helping Things Grow
Dramatis Personae Alice Lambton, Elliott	2013-05-03 '
Location Alice's Office
High atop a Manhattan skyscraper is a rooftop office. Three walls are made of floor-to-ceiling glass; the fourth is granite embedded with a single elevator door. The decor has a strong Japanese influence, all gleaming floors and low furniture. To the left, two steps lead up to a dais with a desk. To the right, a sideboard with a potted orchid and brandy decanters, with glasses. A sitting area claims the center of the office, made up of a set of soft green couches facing each other over a table decorated with an English silver tea service. A small indoor fountain burbles in the corner, and double-doors lead out onto a rooftop patio that has been turned into a sky garden. The view is exquisite. Yesterday, Ms. Alice Lambton had her secretary contact Lt. Elliott Carruthers to kindly request the honor of her company at such and such address at such and such an hour. Ms. Lambton wished to make her acquaintance, you see. Tea would be served. At the appointed hour, when the elevator doors slide soundlessly open to admit the lieutenant into the lobby of the office, her host is found standing before the secretary's desk. In honor of spring, Alice is wearing a skirt suit of pale pink and cream linen, her dark hair twisted up into the sleekest chignon. She looks cool, crisp and pleasant--as is probably intended. A manilla folder is handed to the young woman behind the desk but when the doors open, Alice turns towards the elevator. Her smile shows more in her eyes than upon her lips. Elliott's smile, in contrast, is a bright and warm thing, quick on her lips and lively in her eyes. She is suited, too, albeit in pants; a pale grey silk blend with a cheerier yellow blouse beneath, one leg of the suit neatly tucked pinned up above her knee. The gloves on her hands do not match the elegance of her suit, black leather with barely any finger to them but comfortable worn padding on her palms. "Ms. Lambton," she is offering easy-light as she propels her chair forward, one hand extending when she comes to halt. "Good afternoon." "Lieutenant Carruthers! I cannot begin to tell you how I am to finally meet you." Alice sweeps forward to take the offered hand in hers, holding it gently framed between both. "I have seen you, of course, and heard of your adventures, but to finally meet you is a great pleasure," she says in her crisp boarding school accent. "Please, you must call me Alice. Do you take tea, dear? I can have coffee brought instead if you'd prefer. Above all I want you to enjoy this little get together." "Alice," Elliott corrects with the same easy cheer; her handshake is a firm thing, quick-strong. "Oh," she answers, a note of laughter in her voice, "I'm starting law school, I think I'll take my caffeine in any form I can get it. If I could get them to hang an IV drip off the back of my chair I probably would. -- Tea'll be great, though, thank you. -- /Goodness/, your view is lovely. I've lived in this city my whole life and I never get tired of it." "Mmm, I remember those days well. Long, long ago, I faced the same addiction. Unfortunately I've never recovered." This is Alice's way of making a joke. It is less cheerful, less /warm/, far, far more British. She is smiling as she releases Elliott's hand and gestures her towards the low table in the center of the room where the tea service awaits. "It is magnificent, isn't it? I insisted. I'll have to show you the garden after our little talk. It is a little windy but still breathtaking. Provided you've no fear of heights. Do you take cream and sugar, dear?" "Both, please. Do you know," Elliott's quiet laughter is a little inwardly-focused, a touch of self-deprecating without really being bashful, "I /was/ scared of heights, as a kid. So I told myself I'd learn to fly." /Hopefully/ it is a fear she has gotten over, or being a naval pilot would possibly be uncomfortable for her. "There are worse addictions to have. The pace of this city, it's almost a necessary one." Alice takes a seat on the edge of the couch closest to the open side of the table, where Elliott's chair will most easily fit. She keeps her hands busy with the tea preparation, but frequent glances shift up towards the other woman. "I cannot say I'm surprised. You strike me as someone who takes a great deal of pleasure in personal challenges. I was the same way. /Terrified/ of public speaking and so of course I knew I had to do something about it." The spoon tinks softly in the cup as she stirs the tea to blend it, then sets it aside before offering cup and saucer to her guest. "You are a woman to be admired, Lieutenant. Which is partly why I asked you to join me today." Elliott notches her chair in at the free spot around the table, leaning down to brake the wheelchair in place. Her head shakes slightly, hands folding in her lap. "I do what I need to do," she says lightly, tearing her eyes away from the view to watch the tea preparation. "Though you're right that I'm not really /enjoying/ my job if it doesn't challenge me. I'm sure you can understand. If you don't push yourself, how can you grow?" Her eyes lift from the tea to Alice's face, a small smile lingering on her lips. "Not just for the tea, then?" It's a light question, kind of amused, though there's a deeper curiosity in her eyes. Alice echoes that smile with one of her own. "Pushing one's self is perhaps the most important lesson in life. I understand completely," she says as she turns to the task of measuring out her own cup. Two sugars are added, no cream, and the spoon is wielded again. "And yes...not just for tea, though I hope you'll forgive me for introducing business to pleasure. The world being what it is at the moment, I'm afraid that truly pleasurable moments come few and far between. It is necessity that also led to your being here. Can you tell me, dear, what are your thoughts on the current mutant situation in New York City, and the country at large?" "I'll forgive anyone who brings a bit of pleasant into the work day. There's plenty enough serious to go around." As might be evidenced by Elliott's expression, shifting away from smile to a more pensive cast. She leans forward, transferring her cup and saucer both into her lap, fingers curling around the cup but not yet lifting it further. "I'm a soldier, Ms. Lambton," she answers eventually, the smallest of smiles now curling on her lips though it doesn't match her earlier ones for warmth. "I swore to defend this country. I think doing so is growing more and more challenging every day. Here in New York even moreso, given the high density of mutants that are drawn here." "In that, we're of one mind as well," Alice says, an idle gesture indicating the office around them. Pleasant. Lovely. A far cry from the topic now on the table. She sighs as she settles back in the couch, saucer cradled in one hand, fingers hooked through the teacup's handle. She crosses one knee over the other then raises the cup for a small sip. "Mm...it is quite the challenge. I don't know that we've ever been in such a situation before, with equal threats from within and without. Nothing compares to this. Which means, of course, that we must look for solutions that some are likely to protest, because they don't understand the larger picture. I feel you do, Lieutenant. And I would ask for your help in what's to come." Elliott's head tilts to one side, just slightly as she watches the older woman speak. "My help?" It's curious, a quiet prompt for elaboration. "It's funny, you know, you can fight so hard in one field and -- I come back home and all those skills that help me out /there/ don't mean all that much. It's not really a threat to just counter with guns. I think in the long run a law degree will be a better shield than anything I learned in training." Now she does lift her tea, sipping at it and lowering it carefully back to the saucer. "Though that's years off, for me. What help can I offer now?" "This is something you can do now," Alice says, her smile deepening. She regards the other woman with a calm and level gaze. "This is not a war that will be won with guns. This is a war for public opinion. There are people in this country who believe that individual rights trump national security. Two hundred years ago, perhaps that might have been true. But today, in this age of globalization, there are nations that will take advantage of whatever they can to see us fall. We need someone who can help us sway public opinion. Someone impressive, likeable, reasonable, /intelligent/. To act as the public face of a campaign that will show people the importance of what we do. And, more importantly, why we must do it." Elliott meets Alice's eyes, her cup pausing halfway to her mouth. For a moment, anyway, then she lifts it for another sip. "Rights for safety. That's always been the tradeoff, hasn't it?" For a moment, the cup rests against her lips. She takes another sip, longer. "And we'll never have the one without the other. People need to understand that." She sets the cup back down. Her other hand drums neat-trimmed fingernails against her knee -- or where her knee would be, quietly tapping against the crisp fabric where it is folded and pinned back. "I suppose," she says, and it's a little wry but hardly self-pitying, "that if anyone understands the threat that we're facing right now -- if anyone can /put/ an understandable face on it, it'd be me." "A sad truth. I don't expect we will ever convince everyone of the need but so long as we are able to maintain a majority, all will be well. And that can be done, with the proper campaign." Alice inclines her head towards Elliott, her smile shading towards something sympathetic. Notably, she does /not/ look at that missing limb. She keeps her eyes focused on her guest's. "It's true that your personal experiences would have a great deal of impact. The danger, of rampant and uncontrolled oversight of mutant abilities. However, Lieutenant, I should stress that if you believe this position would cause undue hardship, especially given your current studies, I would understand if you hesitated to accept. A media campaign can be grueling." Elliott's smile this time is once again easy -- if not actually warm. Just quick and smooth, a flash that is soon to fade. "Oh, goodness. I think I learned the trials of media attention early. But it's useful, however grueling it is. The press is one of the most powerful freedoms this country has. And right now there's few more pressing causes it can be put to than keeping people safe." She lifts her tea cup in indication. "It might be grueling. I'll keep /well/ stocked with caffeine." "Mmn, I am so very glad to hear you say that, Elliott. May I call you Elliott?" Alice's smile becomes everything it wasn't before--warm, soft, deep. She is in every way pleased. "Let us say this...when it comes time to begin this, I will do everything in my power to make certain your /valuable/ time is respected by those involved. And should you find you need any assistance, with this or with your studies, you need only ask. I had a mentor of sorts of my own while at Harvard. I would be honored if you would consider me in the same light." "Of course. I'm only Lieutenant when I'm in uniform. Or," Elliott adds with a note more humour, "if /you/ are, and I outrank you." She finishes the tea, leaning forward to rest cup and saucer back down on the table. "That's a very kind offer. I have no doubt I'll be thankful for it, in the coming months. It's not an easy fight we have ahead of us." Now her smile is warm, again, her hands returning to her lap. "I believe -- you said something about a garden?" Alice takes a last sip of her own tea and then sets it down on the table as well. She stands afterward, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "Never easy, but certainly worthwhile. Welcome to the fight, Elliott. You are in good company." And with that said, she steps around the chair to move to the glass wall. It slides open easily, sending a curl of spring-sweet air through the office. "This way, dear. I have had the most extraordinary luck with potted lilacs...I don't know if you have any interest in gardening but now that we've conducted our business, onto our pleasures, mmm?" For a moment, Elliott's eyes flutter closed, at that breeze. Her face turns towards in, drawing in a slow breath of spring air. "There's something so refreshing about helping things grow." Her eyes open again, and her warm smile stays in place, hands dropping to her wheels so she can back away from the table and head out into the sunlight.