Scene #8705: PNL: Room to Breathe

Owner	Pose
Stanley Padgett	There are few things better in life than a hot bath and a good meal. Stanley Padgett has had one of those today. Two, actually, if you count the one very early in the morning when he very sleepily got all the blood and stuff off of him after he was dragged out of Lampport. But the 'good meal' hasn't happened quite yet. Stanley hasn't been in much of a mood to move, or exist, or anything. He WANTS to exist and hang out with people but it's hard when you shattered your soul and handed it out to people, like he apparently had done. And so? Stanley is curled up on a big chair in his 'hotel room'. It's really more of an extended stay at this point. He's been here long enough to pick up some rudimentary Japanese, the room service people know him, he's been doing jobs, all those sorts of things. But if he's not a refugee anymore? He's going to have to make some choices and the choices are gnawing at him, as he sips on a Creature, and watches the December rain outside the Matsudo hotel.
Charlotte Newman	Despite sharing this room with Stanley since the incident began, Charlotte isn't here. She's been paying for everything not covered by the refugee support of the Paladins, her accounts mysteriously still actively updating even during the time freeze and, as usual, never drained. No, Charlotte arrived much later in the morning compared to Stanley, covered in wounds and blood and haggardly exhausted from running literally across all of Lampport and having a good hard cry and then having to make her way back. Since then she's been in the hotel's penthouse spa getting a well-deserved Royal Treatment and, likely, complaining every time the masseuse tried to put her bones back in the right places. Only now is she returning, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, her hair done up in an equally fluffy towel, the legs of dinosaur-print pajamas slumped over fuzzy slippers. She passes by a Room Service cart, pauses, then helps herself to a sandwich that hadn't been served yet. Acting like she owns the place-- feels good, actually. The door lock beeps with her access card and the girl slumps in. She shoves it closed with her foot, stumbles a few paces, and collapse/pours herself onto the couch beside Stanley's chair. A tangle of limbs and body and robe and bandages shuffles uselessly for a moment before she gets her face to look up enough. "Hey Stanley," the exhaustion is even clearer in her voice than on her face, "How're you holding up..?"
Stanley Padgett	"I can see you've had yourself a good afternoon, Olivia" Stanley's voice is still broken, as he lifts his head in his chair. Charlotte's a mass of bandages and robes and such. Stanley's got a thrift store sweater with some sort of sports team logo on it, and some sweat pants that are somehow too long for his lanky frame. His chin rests on the armrest, and he smiles wanely. "Insurance is all handled, I'm assuming." He reaches out a hand over the chair to lightly rest it on his partner's hair, brushing gently with his fingers. "You don't smell like smoke anymore." He didn't answer her question.
Charlotte Newman	"You're mixed up," Charlotte jokes, closing her eyes, "I'm Charlotte, remember? I'm supposed to be the one with the memory problem." At least she can make light of her bizarre situation, or maybe she's just too tired to get emotional about it. Compared to how sweaty and ash-choked her hair was when she got 'home', she's silken and clean now, though what hair Stanley finds is also still wet from the extensive bathing she must've done upstairs. Shifting, the girl reaches over the couch's armrest as well, flailing her arm a bit until her finger catches the sleeve of his sweater. Reacting immediately, she curls her fingers around his arm just above the elbow. A little act of solidarity. "It'll... it'll be fine. I'll probably move anyway..." She squeezes a bit, "I don't want her knowing where I am, if that's what she's going to do." Letting go, Charlotte presses down with a groan and re-orients herself, resting her cheek on the couch armrest instead of the seat. Once situated, she lets out a sigh. "You didn't answer." Finally her eyes open again. Clear under the exhaustion is genuine concern, "Is there something I can do? Can I get you anything?"
Stanley Padgett	"Olivlia, casting herself into the pond on her sword~" Stanley is either teasing or being a dork or both, but the humor is still making it through whatever the Neon City did to his voice. Charlotte snags his arm, and he goes still for her, letting her hold, letting them have the contact. But when she lets go, he's still got that hand on her head, making sure she's still there. "I guess that means we're both moving, but.... I dunno." He takes a breath through his teeth. "I think I'm done with Lampport when this is all over. I was never..." A beat. "This is the first time I've ever decided where to live. Even with Foster Cop involved." Faded rainbow hair shifts as he considers things. "So I'm thinking I will try and find us a new home. When we finish this." He's looking through Charlotte now, past her, into the distance beyond her. A thumb lazily rubs back and forth in her hair, and Stanley breathes out.
Charlotte Newman	"You said that last night, too," Charlotte comments, closing her eyes again, "I'm not familiar with that story. Maybe I did fall on my sword, but..." When her eyes open again, she's glancing to the other side of the room, "...I think this is better for me." Shifting, she settles in more, curled up on the couch like that, "I was always trying to be the 'good girl'... but like... To whose expectations..? Who gets to decide what 'good' is?" She breathes out slowly, a comfortable little sigh, "They helped me realize what I was doing to myself. Though... I was horridly stubborn right 'til the end... Awful people will try to prune back our best branches 'til we're nothing but what they want." Eyes opening, she tilts her head up enough to see Stanley's face, "And I was doing their work for them. Pruning myself away to suit some..." Her tired voice turns caustic, "Some mold that someone else defined..." Relaxing again, she confesses, "That's-- that's what she-- what Exigent Serenity saw in me. What I wasn't seeing." She lets the subject roll along into moving; into leaving Lampport, letting out a thoughtful noise. "I think you're right," the girl admits after some silence. "We're both eighteen. I can just-- transfer credit to any other college I want. It doesn't have to be LampTech." With a little giggle, she adds, "It isn't even very highly rated, I can definitely do better." Shifting a bit, Charlotte puts more of her weight on her shoulder. The noise she makes suggests that was a mistake and she flops back down to her prior posture. "Ah-- I'll help, however I can," She nods once, "But I understand and I trust you, Stanley." She puts on a little smile, "You'll find us a great place. I'll just take care of the money." Nestling down into her robe, the girl's tone turns melancholic, "I doubt my parents would miss me... would they even notice I'd gone? I haven't seen them since last year..."
Stanley Padgett	"It's actually Ophelia, and she's from Hamlet. His betrothed. But she gets... toyed with and lied to and has her heart broken by Hamlet and she falls into madness and melancholy and drowns herself in the middle of the play. It's really distressing, actually." Stanley sighs, and struggles up and out of his chair, before moving over to the couch. He settles in next to Charlotte murmurs. "And I was worried, hearing you be so down on yourself. Not that you'd do someting drastic but... Happy to see you DID do something drastic, actually. Take what you want. Take what's yours." Stanley settles in, and murmurs. "Youre not some... toy. Not some fake. Not some flickering existence. You are Charlotte. You are here and you deserve. Everything. And I'm not just saying that cause I'm your friend. It's the truth." His words hold firm even if his voice is bitcrushed. "And parents are... overrated. I don't think any of us had good parents. Except Foster Cop, and he was the Good Dad."
Charlotte Newman	Charlotte listens, though her eyes close as she does. It's always a treat hearing Stanley talk about theater. Those old plays somehow always evaded her ravenous appetite for novels. Maybe it's the writing format, she thinks inwardly. The noise he makes getting up has her eyes open again, watching him move wide-eyed like a startled cat, "Should you be moving around so much? Stanley, you were stabbed. With a sword." Not that the girl's objections can deterr someone so obstinate. He settles down beside her and she shuffles around but otherwise remains mostly horizontal. Vertical is too much effort. "Mm..." Her shoulders lift with a little laugh, "Thank you. I mean it. It feels good to hear that from someone else." Shifting to Caelan and his contributions, she hums quietly, "I think Mister Stuart is... a really good man. Though I think he's more like...an uncle to me. And Alice is great. I'm sure they're okay after all of this." Her eyes roll closed again, her voice softening, "And miss Salem and Chastity, too." Isaac was out of town and who knows what happened with John. "When we move, we'll have to make sure we stay in touch..!"
Stanley Padgett	Stanley shuffles a bit, and... lets Charlotte get her head in his lap. The irony isn't lost on him with the conversation. The Fool quietly adjusts and makes sure she's comfy. "I also got my face burned. It doesn't look too bad, does it?" It doesn't actually. Just red, he's not even going to have a scar. Thanks Kukuru. "We will. We'll try to keep up with all of them. All the people who matter." Stanley's jaw sets a bit as he says that, knowing that's something that's impossible to promise. It's fine. That's not a lie, just overpromising. "Miss Salem and Chastity especially. Those two are success stories, aren't they?" A happy smile which turns into a yawwwwwwn. "All we have to do is... figure out what's in that box, and we disassemble it and... we're free. We're done."
Charlotte Newman	The girl settles in, comforted in more ways than one. When asked, she turns her head to look up with an appraising noise, "Mm... Nah." One eye closes, "You look like you got a sunburn. Same as my arm. I'm sure it'll heal okay. Miss Kukuru's healing is amazing." It's an overpromise. Charlotte knows that, too. But 'try' is important enough, there. It means it's okay to not do it perfectly, or to not do it right away. They can make mistakes, and that's alright. She inhales deeply, enough to make her ribs hurt from the bruising she took in the fall, and holds it. After several seconds, Charlotte lets that air free in a long, slow exhale. "Even just having the box is a major victory, isn't it?" Those red eyes close again, "They can't do anything without it. We could even just smash it... though that might be dangerous, so maybe being careful is the play." One eye opens, "That thing you did really hurt you much more than anything the Shadow did, though... Should we talk to mister Igor about it? He might have an idea of what we could do to help you get better. Or if it'll heal on its own, maybe."
Stanley Padgett	"Actually it's weird. I... I figured we'd have gotten something from Delilah after that was all done. She DID shadow us down into that mess." Stanley is forced to stop talking, as the sudden agitation in his voice gets the crushing to attenuate some more. He sighs, and shakes his head. "Phone's there. You're here." Stanley waves across the room, and makes a dismissive noise. And then that hand goes back into Charlotte's hair, and his eyes fall closed. "...can wait. Partners are more important." And that seems to be Stanley's final thoughts on the issue.
Charlotte Newman	Charlotte pauses when Delilah is brought up, her brow furrowing, crinkling one of the bandages on her face. "Wait. Where did she go at the end? She kinda... vanished at some point, didn't she? Somewhere around the staircase I lost track of her..." Devoting his time to her care flushes the girl's cheeks, staring up at his closed eyes with his hands in her mostly dried hair. She quickly glances down, shifting her weight a bit and then closing her own eyes again. "I didn't mean right now. It can wait. But I think I'd rather talk to Mister Igor... without Delilah around. If we could." After a pause, she adds, "That woman really bothers me. I-I don't know why. Something about what that guy said at NovaTech..."
Stanley Padgett	"We can sort her out... when we sort her out." Stanley too, is thinking about that day at NovaTech. How his day should have offed him? Left Charlotte on the bus? Smithering had known so much and in the end... he'd ended the man. Holy blasted what was left of him into the debris of the server room. Had to be him. No one else there? Right? Right? That was his job. The Hero. The hand stills, and Stanley murmurs. "I'm not sure what having my own life will be like, but I'm excited to get there."
Charlotte Newman	"Mm..." Charlotte lets out a sleepy noise of agreement. They can figure out what's up with Delilah when they get to it. Solve the mysteries. One at a time. Thinking about it all at once-- is how they got here. Overwhelmed and in over their heads. "I think it'll be nice," she says in a dreamy tone, "And neither of us will have to go it alone. I'm glad I met you, Stanley. Spooking you at the arcade all that time ago was... definitely worth it."