5830/Three Hots and a Cot

Three Hots and a Cot
Date of Scene:	26 April 2018
Location:	Winter
Synopsis:	Pending
Cast of Characters:	John Rizzo, Eithne Sullivan

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John Rizzo has posed:
     The Paladin holding facility is one specifically for Elites, albeit those with proven good behavior. Located in the region colloquially referred to as Winter, it is a clean, modern facility, situated in a vast, empty field perpetually covered in a gleaming white blanket of snow. This blanket is muted upon her visit, due to the fact that it is a nocturnal one--John wouldn't otherwise be awake to see her. To the credit of whatever architect designed the place, it doesn't look as imposing as most prisons do, although there can be no doubt its remote location was chosen intentionally.

     It is a squat building, pentagonally shaped and two stories tall. The middle of this pentagon is apparently open, as a slowly rising curtain of steam suggests the outline of some invisible barrier, likely to prevent unauthorized airborne entry. As Enya approaches, through whatever means she chooses to arrive by, she'll note the presence of guards in olive-drab winter gear, patrolling the exterior, and on the inside of the forcefield, guards in cooler attire, perhaps suggesting some means of climate control.

     It's a fairly simple matter to request visitation, owing to the Paladins' need for organization and a clean public face. The front desk looks more like the waiting room of a doctor's office than a minimum security prison, but once Enya is escorted in, things might start to look a little more familiar. She is led past rows of cells with the usual spartan accomodations, however sleek and sophisticated they might be, patrolled by guards with shock batons. There are regular security checkpoints, where scanners designed to look as inoffensive as possible with curving lines and polished metal exteriors make sure she hasn't brought any weapons.

     A walk of a few minutes takes her to the visitation room. Sitting with his hands cuffed and held to the table, John Rizzo isn't consoled by the soft muzak piped into it, nor by the soft pastel hues of the room. His olive drab jumpsuit, bearing an identification number, is perhaps the only garment he's been seen in thus far that actually fits him. It reveals just how gaunt the vampire really is, as if he'd stopped eating before his embrace. When Enya is brought into the room, he looks up to meet her with a sigh. "The wind told me you were coming," he says. "Didn't wanna believe it."

Eithne Sullivan has posed:
    It's not so easy to leave now that her father's home. Not that he would stop her leaving - or physically /could/ - but she wants everything to be normal. Normal for everybody else was never normal for them, but...

    She tells her father that she's going to go hang out with a friend. It's not technically a lie.

    Eithne arrives at the prison after a too-short ride on the back of the kelpie. She feels so restrained lately. She can't put a name to it, but looking at the building from far away makes something tighten in her chest. She doesn't like any of it. She nudges her mount toward the gates anyway.

    Technically she can't /not/ bring the possibility of a weapon with her - just like a mage couldn't /not/ bring magic. But she knows that for reasons she doesn't really empathise with, John is here because he feels he deserves it.

    She doesn't know what to do. This isn't like visiting her father. Her father never felt guilty.

    "Didn't think they'd let me bring yeh anything," the Scion says instead of hello. "But tell me they're feedin' yeh, at least?"

    This is all wrong. Something Eithne can't quite name stirs in her chest. It's uncomfortable. "Why wouldn't I come?"

John Rizzo has posed:
     "Three hots and a cot," says the vampire with an air of tired facetiousness. He smiles wearily at Enya. The chains holding him to the table rattle as he leans forward in his seat. Rizzo senses these emotions in her, as plain as day. He wishes he couldn't.

     "Hoped Marcus or your pop would talk you out of it," he admits with a shrug. "Woulda been a good time for you to hit the silk. Have a normal life." He drums his fingers upon the table idly, pushing a breath between his lips and avoiding eye contact with her. "Guess it's not so much you not coming as me not wanting you to."

     John frowns, his eyes boring a hole into the table. "I messed up, kid. Big time."

Eithne Sullivan has posed:
    "I didn't tell Da where I was goin'," she frowns. "And it was Marcus that told me yeh got arrested." Hopefully that's not throwing him under the bus. "Weren't yeh gonna tell me? I know they let yeh make more than one phone call."

    She finds a seat at the table across from John, fiddling a bit with that bracelet she always wears. "Tell me what happened, yeah? All I know's what Marcus told me. I barely read the report. I mean... I can guess, but just so I understand."

    She knows he'd never purposefully kill someone. He's a pacifist, even if he's not gentle. But the 'other guy' isn't...

John Rizzo has posed:
     "Kid..." Rizzo closes his eyes, reaching up and rubbing his pale face. When they open again, he looks no more comforted for the gesture. "The only reason the report got made is on Marcus' account. What was I gonna do, stop him?" Raising both hands, he rattles the chains at her to make the point. Even for him, it's a dry remark to make, and he frowns after the fact. "Sorry," he mumbles.

     "What's there to understand, though? I killed two men." The vampire chuckles bitterly. "Does it matter who was in the driver's seat when I hand out the keys like candy?"

Eithne Sullivan has posed:
    "Yeh can't just give out keys to yer body, yeh know," Eithne counters. Frustration wells under her skin. She doesn't know how to feel. It seems so black and white to her. "Yeh weren't in the driver's seat, so yeh didn't do it. I've never known yeh to be the kind've person who would hurt another if there weren't a damn good reason fer it! Why would this time be any different?"

    She doesn't know how to deal with this, not really - her father had gone to prison willingly enough, but still hadn't considered what he'd done to be 'wrong'. He'd just considered it 'necessary'.

    Eithne takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. What can she do?

    Does she have a right to be here? What kind of say does she really have in the life of someone else?

    "There's more to it than that," she continues, leaning forward in her chair. "Tell me what happened. I wanna hear it from yeh, not from a report an' not from someone else's mouth."

John Rizzo has posed:
     John chuckles bitterly. With a shake of his head, "You guys never hang up, huh. Look, kid, I'm in here for a reason. If I gotta spill the beans to get you to see that, fine. Just..." There is a moment where something else is on his mind, some request unspoken. Rather than make it known, he grunts, setting his jaw and leaning forward.

     "Alright, here's the dope. There was this homicide case. I agreed to take it pro bono 'cause the vic was a Brother Seamus." His brow furrows as he recalls more details. "He was iced for sticking his nose where he shouldn't. There was another stiff, a dirty cop, but we found out the killer was just using him to lead us to the real score--a priest and a banker in on a scam."

     "I met the guy. He was a vigilante type. Thought I could turn him to my way of doing things." His fingers close into fists, balled tightly enough to make his knuckles white, and he grimaces. Whatever comes over him passes after a few moments, and he shakes his head slowly. "I made a good impression, I guess, because he didn't off me--and believe me, he coulda. He's strong, Enya. More than that, he's... he burns things." The chair creaks slightly as he shifts position.

     "Anyway, he crashed a wedding looking for them, we chased him off. The smoke drifting into the night sky showed me where he'd be. Here's where it gets to be my fault, kid."

     "I was hungry, I was tired. I was weak. But I thought I could stop him--he came back to the church where it all started, with the banker and the priest. He'd attacked the transport, and was gonna kill them in the church as some kinda... vengeful... passion play."

     "He'd called me an innocent--wrongly, but I figured maybe I could reason with him. So I gave him a choice. Give me the crooks and let the system deal with them, or fight everybody and risk letting a monster out." With both thumbs pointed towards himself and a wry smile, "I gave him the option, and he took it. He let the other guy out, because I made it so, so easy for him."

     "Forgive me if I don't see how that isn't /exclusively/ my fault."

Eithne Sullivan has posed:
    A wrinkle of the nose gets added to the list of 'signs that Eithne is upset and trying to control her temper'. "Brother Seamus?" For a moment she thinks he actually means a man named Seamus before her brain catches up. "Wait, Brother. He was a priest?" That or another detective - Eithne isn't really up on her gumshoe slang. "So the killer murdered two people just to bring attention to another pair who were even dirtier." She wonders a bit how that chase must've looked... how convoluted it must've been.

    She tucks her tongue between her teeth and chews slowly, watching Rizzo as he doesn't say something. His body language says it for him.

    She's quiet still as he finishes the story, her only sound the quiet jingle of silver on her wrist as she toys with that bracelet. It makes her so angry. John is her friend. He understands her in ways that Sir Bedivere doesn't, in ways that her father doesn't. Nobody can know everything about another person, but if you scatter the pieces of yourself out wide enough, among enough people... It'd piss off anybody, wouldn't it?

    ...No. She's not quite right. That's part of it, but not the whole truth. Eithne carefully settles her palms flat on the table. "Yeh gave him a choice, though. It wasn't too smart on yer part, but yeh offered him a chance to surrender. Yeh /tried/ to help him."

    It's because people always leave. It's because people give up. It's because how could somebody be her friend, let her actually get used to having someone around, and then take that away?

    Black talons sink into her heart and squeeze.

    "So tell me," Eithne seethes, teeth bared, "How is that not a case of everyone bein' absolutely screwed over by the person yeh were trying to help?"

John Rizzo has posed:
     "I don't want you going after him," says Rizzo in an unusually parental tone. His eyes shift around the room, pausing briefly on the guards which flank the door on either side. The next thing he says isn't with his mouth, but his mind, a message as clear as a bell.

     -I've got something worked out to deal with him. After that, maybe I'll see about getting out of here. But I have to repent for what I did.-

     "After all," he says aloud, after what seems to onlookers like a pause of a few seconds, "You said yourself it was stupid on my part."

Eithne Sullivan has posed:
    Don't go after him. And how does he intend to stop her from inside a jail cell? She nearly comes right out and says it too, before she hears his voice inside her mind. "...Yeah," she mumbles, swallowing the words she'd wanted to say as she looks away. "It was feckin' dumb."

    --So what am I supposed to do?-- she tries to think about it him, though she's really got no idea if John can read minds as well as talk to them. He's always been sharp, maybe her raised eyebrows will be enough to get the message across if nothing else. Outwardly, Eithne just crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, the picture of a sulking teenager.

John Rizzo has posed:
     "Live."

     The word is spoken out loud, and for the first time since her visit, John makes eye contact with her. Those stone grey eyes of his waver slightly. Perhaps they'd be tearing up, if that part of him still worked. "Go back home, talk to your dad. Let him in. Make some friends. You're a good kid, Enya. Girl your age ought to have plenty of 'em." He smiles weakly.

     The guards by the window approach. One for each side of him. Both clad in the standard Paladins drab, one is a human man with dark, brown skin and close-cut black hair, the other an otherworldly woman with blue skin, white hair, and solid red eyes. "Visiting hours are over, John," says the woman more like a librarian than a prison guard. Despite her soft reminder and the gentle body language the both of them employ, there is still the unavoidable implication of force, noted both in their built physiques, and in the weaponry at their hips--shock batons, but more tellingly, a wooden stake for each of them.

     John's cuffs are unchained from the table. "Sure, Zirra," he replies hoarsely. John is gently herded towards the door. With a look over his shoulder, he tries to maintain that weak smile, nodding at her. It's likely the only gesture he can make without drawing a reprisal or chastisement. "See you soon, kid. Take care of yourself." The sound of the door, like much everything else about this place, was likely tailor-made not to sound heavy or imposing.

     With a soft click, Enya is once again alone.