2490/A Mercy Call

A Mercy Call
Date of Scene:	17 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Mercy Thompson, Winifred Burkle

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Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy Thompson has been trying to check in with everyone who helped rescue the Winter Soldier. So far, she's spoken with Steve, Claire and James himself. Now she's trying to check in on Sam and Fred, as well.

With Fred being her ba-bomb buddy, that's who's next.

It would have started simply enough a text: Hey! How're you doing?

If that wasn't answered Mercy would have sent one other: Everything ok?

And again, if that one wasn't answered, well, Mercy would have taken matters into her own hands. One last text would have been sent, something to give the other woman a little bit of warning, and it would have said: I'm coming over. I'll bring the beer and tacos, you just be there.

And just like that Mercy Thompson picks up a four pack of beer and a bag of tacos and makes the trip from West Harlem to Hell's Kitchen and to the specific residence of the Winchester's. The fact that the apartment is above a business isn't lost upon the coyote, not when she has to access the stairs by going /through/ the would-be Deli and Grocery. Either way, up the narrow stairs Mercy goes and when she comes to the door the dark-haired woman knocks three times upon the door. Along with the knock, Mercy says, "Hey Fred. It's Mercy."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Unfortunately for Mercy, Fred has not been paying attention to her phone much the past few days. The texts from Mercy may or may not have even be read, to be honest. Mostly, she has been attempting to keep herself sane. Every once in awhile, she has added to the writing on Sam's walls and keeping underneath dark spaces: tables and under the bed or the covers are her favorites so far.

The knock on the door startles Fred. Sam is out at the moment - something he has very sweetly not left her alone much. Every once in awhile, though, he does have to go out to get supplies. If it were Sam, he would just use his key. The mention of Mercy, however, pulls Fred from where she currently is - under Sam's desk while reading.

Softly, she pads to the front door and looks through the peep hole to see that it truly is Mercy outside. It takes her a few moments, but she takes a deep breath and unlatches the multiple locks on the door. "Oh, uh, hi, hey, Mercy." There's a bit of embarrassment there, that she hasn't seen the coyote since the Hydra base. "How are you? Er, oh, do you want to come in?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
While Mercy doesn't necessarily mean to intrude upon Fred's privacy, the coyote can't help but angle an ear towards the apartment. Mostly that movement is from worry - worry that the other woman hasn't answered any of the texts, and worry that it's also taking so long for anyone to answer the door.

And while another person might think no one is home, the coyote's sensitive ears catch the vague noises of someone within. A turn of a page within a book or the sound of quiet breathing might be heard.

As such, Mercy knows someone is within and so she waits. The beer is held in one hand, the bag of tacos in the other. When Fred looks out the peep hole she'll find Mercy just standing there; a faintly worried expression upon the other woman's face. That worry turns to slight relief when the door finally opens, however. "Fred." The coyote says, "Hey - how're you doing?" She continues with, even as the coyote turns a quick look upon Fred - an assessment of the woman and her appearance.

At the offer to come in Mercy nods, moving to step inside. "Sure. I brought tacos and beer." The bag of food and beer are hefted upward, as if to show the other woman she speaks the truth.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Fred doesn't look injured or hurt. There is a bit of a haunted look to her. Her hair is pulled into two long braids on either side of her face. They're a bit messy, but she doesn't quite look the worse for wear. Without peeking into Sam's bedroom, she might not see the coping mechanism that the physicist has been using. Instead, she smiles. Mercy is a friend, she's safe. There's a bit of fidgeting, but she's present, thankful to see her.

"I'm--" Fred gives a bit of a shrug. "I'm okay. I'll be fine." A look is given to the beer and the tacos. There's a smile. "Thanks. For bringing these." She moves and gestures for Mercy to move tot he table. "How're you?" They both went through some terrible images. "Sorry, I meant to call." Or return her texts, or do anything. However, she was too embarrassed, to locked in her own mind.

The door shuts behind Mercy and Fred expertly puts the locks on immediately. There's a routine to it. "Plates? Glasses?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
As Mercy steps inside she can't quite help but see the line of salt upon the floor, or feel the vague itch between her shoulder blades from the wards so near. It's enough to cause Mercy to glance around the apartment; a note of curiousness to her gaze. That look, however, only lasts a few seconds before the coyote is returning her attention to Fred.

That still haunted aspect that surrounds the other woman is seen by Mercy, possibly scented as well, and concern replaces that brief note of curiousness.

Her declaration of being okay and fine earns a faint look from Mercy, but for now the mechanic doesn't refute what the other woman says. "Not a problem." Mercy says when Fred offers the thanks for the food, "Really. That's what friends are for - in fact, if I had known we were all but 'neighbors' I'd have come calling earlier." And with the motion toward the table Mercy automatically moves to it. The bag of greasy goodness will be set atop the table, as will the four pack of beer. It's only once the food and drink are set aside that Mercy will turn to watch Fred neatly lock the door.

Once the door is locked up tight, Mercy will return to the question of how she's doing. "And I'm ok." Which she is, and isn't, and it's here where Mercy hesitates as she considers her next words. When she does speak it's with the slowness of someone taking care of what they say, how they say it, "What that spell brought up for me was old hurts. Something I've come to terms with already -" Which isn't quite true, but that's what Mercy is going to keep on telling herself right this moment, "- so, I think I got off pretty light." Here is where Mercy pauses for a few seconds again, "From what everyone has said we all experienced something with that spell -" And while she doesn't ask what Fred saw, or endured with her vision, the coyote does pause to allow the other woman to speak if she feels inclined.

To the question of plates or glasses Mercy offers a quick nod in answer.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Turning from the door, Fred moves to the kitchen to retrieve the proper flatware for tacos and beers. The wards, the salt, the magical protections are either not something that she can automatically feel, or she is so used to it by now that it doesn't register.

Plates and glasses are gathered and then placed next to the bag. She's trying to play the proper hostess, even if she hasn't done that in ages. Living in an abandoned hotel tends to make things a lot more informal. The old Southern Hospitality starts to kick in, though, and she knows to offer plates and water.

When Mercy mentions the spell directly, there's a brief pause in Fred's movements. "Old hurts," she repeats with a nod. That certainly sounds familiar. "Yeah. That sounds about right." There's a bit of a shiver at that. "Mine was a little of both. Thought I was over it, but it's still all there."

Blushing a bit, she shakes her head. "It's fine, it'll be fine. Everyone's pulling through well enough." Except for her, it seems, but she knew she was already little crazier than everyone else.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
At the sight of plates and glasses appearing, Mercy likewise moves to help.

The bag of tacos is opened and from within Mercy pulls out several foil-wrapped crunchy tacos, as well as soft tacos.

She'll deposit a crunchy and soft taco on each plate, even as she listens to what Fred has to say. Two bottles of beer will be likewise pulled from the cardboard pack, with one bottle being immediately offered to Fred. "Hey." Begins the coyote, "It's okay that it still affects you. That was the whole point of the trap -" Or so Mercy assumes, since she really didn't get that good a look at all those runes, "Incapacitate us so by the time someone arrived we'd be an easy capture, or kill." Kill is said with a grimness by Mercy, even as she continues with, "But even with their trap they still didn't succeed. We all broke free and then we brought the house down upon them."

"That's nothing to sneeze at." The cap upon her own bottle of beer is popped now, though she doesn't yet take a drink. "We should all be proud of what we did - we saved Sam, James and Claire. We also took down a Hydra cell. That's something too."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Once tacos are properly parceled out, Fred takes the plate and one of the beers and moves to the couch. It's comfier and seems a better place to eat as far as she is concerned. "Yeah," Fred says, unconvincingly. A very deep place inside of her wants to eat under the table and not on a couch next to or near Mercy. That's what she did for months after her return in the Hyperion. However, she knows that's not the civilized thing to do.

It does make her a bit fidgety, though. "I guess." They did all make it out, but that doesn't mean she feels good about it. It took awhile for her to even be convinced that this world was real again.

"We did." The statements come after a few long pauses as she looks at her tacos and then the beer still in her hand. As if remembering how to work it, she opens the beer and takes a small swig. "I just...it was Pylea. I never wanted to see that place again."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
With beer and plate in hand Mercy dutifully follows after Fred when the other woman moves to the couch; after all, she is the hostess here and Mercy is always on best behavior at other people's houses.

Mercy will wait for Fred to sit first and when she does, the coyote will settle upon the opposite end. Old habits die hard for Mercy and rarely do you crowd another werewolves' space. Her plate is set upon her lap while the beer is lightly held in one hand.

That unconvinced tone of Fred's is heard by Mercy and it's enough to cause the mechanic to consider what else she might say to the slimmer woman. That thoughtful silence, however, comes to end when Fred speaks again. Her attention returns to Fred and the coyote listens. It's only at the mention of Pylea that Mercy's expression turns to a slightly perplexed frown.

"Pylea?" She asks, "I don't think I know where that is. Somewhere in Europe?" Mercy hazards a guess, even as she remembers to take a drink from her own beer.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
If Fred knew exactly why Mercy was waiting for Fred to sit, she might get a good laugh out of that, despite everything. The thought of her being thought of as dangerous is something she imagines to be completely out of the realm of possibility. With bombs? Sure, she might be a force to be reckoned with, but that's only because of due preparation. Holding a plate of tacos and a beer? She's practically a fuzzy bunny.

And, were it not about the subject of Pylea she might also attempt to come up with some form of quip dealing with the hell dimension being located somewhere in Europe. However, tonight is not that night. Instead, she takes a much longer swig of beer. If she keeps at this, she'll be drunk in no time. She really doesn't have much of an alcohol tolerance. "It's a hell dimension," she informs Mercy without much joking or otherwise. "I got trapped there for five years. I read a random phrase from a book in a library and it sent me there. That's why I was so upset about the idea of portal bombs before." The idea of them, again, sends a shiver down her spine."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The coyote's drink pauses midway to her lips when Fred reveals just what Pylea is. Or where.

Her bottle of beer is brought back down as Mercy now tries to formulate a response to what she's said. You'd think Mercy would be used to the fantastical being thrown around, but it seems she can still be caught by surprise.

"Fred, I'm so sorry. That had to be terrible." Says the coyote immediately, her expression turning grim, "I can /totally/ understand why you were so against portal bombs." And beneath that grimness Mercy is also concerned again for Fred, as the mechanic continues with, "I take it the spell put you back in that dimension? Trapped again until you figured out it was fake?" She asks, her tone striving for gentleness with that question of hers.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
The idea of Pylea doesn't seem to be a secret or something shameful that Fred has attempted to hide from Mercy. She never brought it up randomly, because there was no need. The reluctance now comes from having to talk about it so soon after having experienced it again.

"Thanks," Fred says to the empathy that Mercy exhibits. "That's not really the right phrase, sorry. I don't really know the right phrases. You know, I only had myself to talk to for that time. I still do that sometimes - the talking to myself. The rambling." She's doing it right now, almost unbeknownst to her. "I just know that 'it's okay' isn't right either, 'cause it's not alright or okay. That place isn't any of those things and that spell..." she trails off.

The question as to whether it sent her back there is met with another nod. She doesn't yet mention how the discerning between reality and falsehood was a trouble for her after retuning, though. While Mercy pauses in her drink, Fred takes another pull from her beer. She's starting possibly starting to see why Dean drank the morning they had their discussion.