2011 06 19: The Call

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Mission Name: The Call
Date of Mission: June 19 2011
Locale: MegaPlex Theatres - Brooklyn - Manhattan

Mimi and Foster exit a movie and are tailed by Crewe for a bit. Mimi talks about her weird occurrences.


Crewe Foster Mimi

It's just around three PM in the afternoon and the one o'clock showing of some new sci-fi movie has just let out. Mimi and Foster are among the first to leave the theater. The young blonde wears a floral print orange, blue, and yellow dress, a denim jacket, and a pair of Grecian-style sandals that lace up her ankles. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. She carries a large soda and a tub of popcorn on the way out. "I don't know, I just don't think I like that kind of movie… I don't know, this one wasn't so bad." Either she's being sweet or she's just really indecisive. "Would have been better if that fat guy in front of us would have stopped critiquing it every five minutes, out loud. He was like that fat comic book guy from The Simpsons, only real."

"Yeah, uh. That guy was… Those guys are real," Foster replies, only after checking to make sure said dude is not actually in hearing, although he tries to disguise the looking around by rubbing at the back of his neck. "But, uh, at least the monster was pretty cool, right? I thought it was cool. The effects were, ah, not too overdone like in some movies and they still managed to make it scary." He shuffles along, dressed in his usual jeans and a T-shirt layered under a long-sleeved button down. "I'm sorry if you didn't really like it. I, uh, hope you weren't too bored? We could have gone to see something else if you… really don't like these types of things."

"Don't you just want to kill people like that?" comes a voice from behind the both of them. It's nobody they're familiar with, but it is a rather grungy-ish looking chick that could've been directly from Seattle in the mid-90s. That is to say, she's wearing jeans ripped at the knees, well-loved Chuck Taylors, an oversized olive army jacket with the name 'Anderson' stictched over the pocket and displaying the rank of Corporal. A bit of local flavor comes in the faded Mets t-shirt she has on under the jacket. Whatever bit o'breeze there is musses up her already mussy hair which is loose.

Mimi picks from the half-full tub of popcorn and ends up offering it to Foster. After all, holding two things at once is hard for someone — especially when they're off-center with what she usually holds: shopping bags, booze bottles, and purses. She pops a few kernels into her mouth and munches on them, taking a sip of her soda. "No, I didn't mind it. It was nice just to relax. I mean to say, it was nice spending time with you. What do you wanna do now?" Mimi asks, before she takes note of the blonde behind them. She ignores it for a moment before realizing there's a distinct possibility she was being spoken to. "Oh, yeah. Like, how totally rude, right? Maybe some of us were trying to enjoy the movie before he started picking apart every five seconds of it."

Foster dutifully takes the tub of popcorn, holding it loosely at his side. He nods towards the drink, offering to take that too once she's done sipping on it. "Oh, uh. It was- It was nice spending time with you too. Uh, obviously. Thanks for, uh. Agreeing to it." He considers her question, but is distracted by Crewe before he has a chance to respond, turning around with some surprise - he's not used to being noticed. Or maybe he's just afraid the guy did hear his comment after all. "Yeah, uh. It was… very, um, rude. He- He made a few valid points, but that's besides the, um, the point. These movies are never going to be- 100 percent authentic. Or, uh, they'd be pretty boring because there… wouldn't be much fiction to them." He rambles.

"Well, there's a lot of strange shit out in this world, you know? All kinds of crazy people doing all kinds of crazy things. It's not exactly aliens…but shit man, the special effects are out of this fucking world!" Crewe exclaims with a smirk on her face. "And those are 100-percent authentic. I guarantee it!" While she doesn't exactly interject herself into their walk, she does interject herself into their conversation, following behind at first, but speeding up and then walking beside them. "Shame about the ticket prices though, huh? Midwest theaters you can sometimes still get into for like, a few bucks, if you don't mind seeing movies that have been out for a while."

Mimi doesn't seem to be able to follow Crewe's first portion of the conversation, tilting her head at the woman who has loped alongside them. "Are you from Washington by any chance?" Mimi asks her, studying the girls fashion dos or fashion don'ts. She reaches out to wrap her arm around Foster, deciding to keep the soda, though she does pass it to him briefly in case he wants a drink. "Ticket prices have gone way up since I last remember it, but I don't mind paying if it means escape from the real world. I think a lot of people obviously must feel the same considering that the movie industry is still alive and well. Recession my ass."

Foster just sort of stares at Crewe as she talks so emphatically about the world and the special effects. "I- Uh. If they're real, I don't… know if they'd really count as special effects. Maybe, um, maybe just effects. I'm not really sure of the terminology when it comes to, ah, crazy things," he replies, wincing a bit at his own ramble there. Mimi's arm causes him to blush slightly but also seems to calm him a bit, at least. He takes a quick sip of the soda before handing it back. "Everything here is… expensive. If, um, they charged for the square footage of your- your seat the same way they do- they do apartments, it would be… even more expensive."

Crewe just nods and nods, sagely, to the words. "Yeah, this place is real damn expensive. That's why I do my shopping down at the surplus, you know?" To make sure they do in fact know, she grabs the collar of her jacket and gives it a little flick, popping that bad boy up. "Awesome, right? I just some obnoxious aviator sunglasses and I'll totally have that Tom Cruise douchebag look down. Next paycheck though. I want to get some really good shades, polarized and all that. Never know when you might need them with all the glare off these skyscrapers."

"Oh yeah. That look is very in these days up near Canada, I hear. I do like the jacket…" Mimi's tone isn't quite covetous, but complimentary nonetheless. The blonde fans herself gently and crinkles her nose with some mixture of prissy dismay and discomfort. "God, it's getting so hot out. Just a matter of time before we can all fry eggs on the sidewalk." She shifts things a little bit in order to peel her jacket off, flinging it over her shoulder and thus revealing thumbprint shaped bruises that look angry and fresh. She doesn't seem to notice them however. "If they start charing by square foot for seats, my dad might have to buy a theater…" Mimi's tone takes on a dangerous bent, as if she's actually considering asking the Senator to do just that.

Foster is completely lost in this talk of fashion, since he tends to only worry whether a) it fits and b) he can afford it. "Uh, yeah, you look good," he comments awkwardly. "I mean, not that I'm looking at- at you. Just- the clothes are… they're good." He clears his throat and looks down at the floor, hoping neither of the women are going to hurt him for that one. He's just in the process of looking back up when he notices Mimi's bruises (he's allowed to look when she shows skin, right?). "Uh. Mimi? What happened?" he asks with concern as he cranes his neck to give them a better look.

Not knowing them well at all (but one more than the other), Crewe isn't really able to comment on anything. It looks to her like this is an 'awkward friends' situation, with some crush-action going on. So, mostly, she just keeps walking along since she's not been asked to leave, but she does try to lean around and get at least a little bit of a look at said brusies. Any information could be useful information, you know.

Lucky for Foster, Mimi doesn't reach out to brain him when he makes that comment to Crewe. She looks amused more than anything. When he points out her bruises, she shrugs her shoulders and offers him her arm. "I don't know. I woke up with them. There are others, but…" Clearly she'd have to take off more clothes than she's willing at this point in time and not only are they on a New York sidewalk, but they have a new friend who Mimi doesn't know so well. "I thought… maybe I blacked out because I was drinking and I probably just bumped into something, right? But I don't think I drank last night… it's all just so hazy. I don't remember." Mimi frowns and reaches to rub the bruises a little bit. She doesn't mention that they do seem to look like thumbprints. "I had another one of those weird dreams, too." She pauses to look at Crewe, raising a brow at the girl. "Are you a psychology student? Do you know one?" Because even though Mimi has bucketloads of money, she reserves the right to be cheap and want free advice too.

Foster, glad that neither of them have taken offence and he can breathe freely again, takes Mimi's offered arm in order to give the bruises a closer inspection. "They look pretty, uh, bad. Painful, I mean. You don't look bad. Do they hurt?" His brow furrowed, her non-explanation is not settling his worries any, and he too notices how much they seem shaped like bruises. His attention wholly on the younger blonde, it's only when she addresses Crewe that he remembers she's there, turning self-conscious again as he lets go of Mimi's arm and clears his throat.

Crewe gives a casual shrug of her shoulders. "I hang around with a bunch of people who do a lot of things. Some of them seem like they could be mind rapers, but I've never seen a full-on certificate or anything. I could find out though, if you really want to get brain probed or whatever." She concludes her statement by giving another shrug of the shoulder. "You'd be having a stranger friend of a stranger help you with your brain though, so, that's kinda weird I guess? Cheap though!" Sure, she seems casual about everything, but who knows!

Mind rapers? Mimi mouths. That's a new one on her. She furrows her brows a little bit. "In my dream, I was breaking into someone's house for some reason… and the guy was home. We started fighting…" She says. Clearly she doesn't think that those bruises on her arms are related in any way shape or form. "But I won. I always do. It's good to be on top!" Mimi says, grinning between the two of them. She nods her head to Foster a little more seriously. "Yeah, they hurt a little. More uncomfortable than anything. You don't realize how much your arms brush against stuff during the day." She glances in the direction of the other blonde with a smile, "If you happen to know of one who might want some field experience, send them my way. I'm not really fond of psychologists though… not sure why. I don't think I've ever been to one."

Foster's eyebrows shoot upwards at Crewe's colourful terminology, and going terribly awkward again, he clears his throat. "I, uh. I don't know if that's… a good idea. Letting a, uh. A stranger help you with it," he stammers out. "If you're worried, you could talk to someone who, uh. Does have that certificate." His concern only deepens when she explains what happened in her dream, and he opens his mouth to say something before actually thinking better of it and closing it again. "You should, um. You should be careful. Even in your dreams," he does end up saying. And considering how brilliant that is, one can only imagine what got tossed out.

"No sense in sugar-coating it, huh? They get inside your head and they…do stuff, you know. They mess with the wiring and change how stuff smells and looks and get you to tell them all about that time you were in grade school and peed your pants laughing and how in the world that relates to the way you hate your father or whatever the heck it is that that German dude in the suit was talking about. I don't know." One more time, Crewe gives an idle shrug of her shoulders. "But, maybe you need one if you're having dreams like that. Isn't that what they do first in the movies? Go to see a shrink, then the things in your head turn out to be real?"

Mimi starts to nod to Foster before she hears Crewe's words and looks vaguely uncomfortable. She frowns and reaches up to scratch at the back of her head, stopping her walking. But she perks up rather admirably just a second later. "My friend and I were just about to go swimming at my apartment. Is there anywhere that you need to go? I have a private driver and dropping you somewhere first wouldn't be a problem." Mimi keeps her eyes trained on Crewe so that Foster will know that yes, he is in fact the one being invited to swim in a posh indoor pool.

"Uh, yeah. I still think if you're, um. You're going to talk to someone, you should… maybe see someone who, uh, is paid and certified to do it," Foster continues, looking between the two women and then down at the ground. "Not that I'm telling you what to do, but if you… if you want to know what I think, uh." It takes him a step or two before he realizes Mimi has stopped so abruptly, and so he stops as well, and takes a big step back to bring himself level with her side again. It's good she's so clear about who gets to go swimming, since even then, there's that flicker of uncertainty in his expression until he figures out he's the one getting invited to go swimming.

"Yeah, I'll ride wherever. I don't have anywhere at all to be. Ride me to your apartment and I'll walk or whatever from there. I'm just doing whatever today, wandering around and seeing the sights and stuff. No need to have your driver take me somewhere special. Everything's a pretty easy ride or walk anywhere in this city." Crewe is not picky, really, but she would like to know exactly which posh apartment building is Mimi's.

Blonde though she may be, Mimi is not a stupid girl. She smiles at Crewe and nods to the woman. "Sure." She leads them over to the cream-colored town car that's parked about a block away, not saying much of anything. "I might go see someone… I don't know. This is all just too weird." There's a pointed glance shot over to Crewe before she slides into the car and looks at the driver. "Fritz, take us to the ice cream parlor." It's unclear whether or not that's code for something or she's actually intent on taking them to an ice cream parlor. "I'd love a little treat before we go home." Just then, Mimi's phone rings. She furrows her brows and answers it. "Hello?" She asks, before there's a sudden slackness to her facial features. "Yes." She pauses. "I will. Yes. Yes. ..Yes." And then she starts to slide right back out of the car, hanging up. "I'm sorry, I can't go. The driver will take you to the parlor without me. My dad needs me for something."

Foster thinks it's pretty weird too - and only getting weirder by the second. He's set to follow Mimi into the car, but when she steps back out of it, he takes a step back, looking at her with more of that concern. "Is- Is everything okay?" he asks, his brow furrowed. Now he's worried and he's missed his chance to see her in a bikini. Which might have killed him, but what a way to go. "I, er- Can I, um. Can I call you later?" he asks, a little overly eagerly. The car gets another glance, but he's not in a real hurry to climb in sans Mimi.

"Well, look, if you want for me to see who I might know that can scour your brain, you should, ah, call me or something," Crewe says, patting herself down through the fabric of the jacket. Finally, she gets what she's looking for, in that it's the ticket stub, and a pen that has no cap. "Here, so this is my cell number," she says, scribbling the number down there on the back of the ticket stub. "I guess if you call like, in the next few days, I should know."

Since taking Crewe's number wasn't in direct mission orders, Mimi stares at the ticket for a minute before she reaches out to take it and pocket it. She nods to Foster first in a state of what seems to be bewilderment before she ends up walking away from the car and heading down the street at a brisk pace, eyes peeled right in front of her. She's waiting for something and there's been a total personality change within the past few minutes. But before anyone can speculate, she's picked up by an unmarked black car.

Foster finds himself just staring at Mimi, watching all of this unfold with a look of worry and confusion. It's only once she's disappeared into the nondescript vehicle that he snaps out of his own thoughts and looks back to Crewe, turning awkward again, but a little less so, due to the distraction caused by his confusion. "I, uh. Did you… still want a ride?" It's not really an invitation, but more like he's just not sure what to do now, as they're left standing by Mimi's town car with no actual Mimi in sight.

"Nah. That's okay. I can get where I'm going easier without a car. Got some more stuff I wanna check out first, anyway. You could go though, I guess. Doesn't look like the driver is really confused by all this…so maybe that was a car from her father or something? I hear those government suit-types drive those Men in Black cars." Conspiracy theories, all of them, and also a good way to talk about what you know with plausible deniability. "Nice to meet you and stuff. If she calls though, there's a person or two I figure is qualified to help. For free."

Foster's eyebrows lift up high when she talks about the Men in Black, and he just stares at her for a long moment before catching himself and giving his head a quick shake. "I- I don't know. I'm, uh. I'm sure it's… nothing to worry about. The rich are, uh, different, right?" He still sounds pretty worried though. He looks down at the bucket of popcorn like he's just remembered he's carrying it, and then to the car. "Uh, yeah. It's, um. Nice to meet you. I guess we'll see if she… wants to, um. Talk. To someone."

"I expect she will. Maybe not today but…you know. In the future." Another casual shrug, and then Crewe turns back to the sidewalk. Jamming her hands in the pockets of the jacket, she just scuffs off down the sidewalk in the direction of the Lower East Side.

Foster watches yet another woman walk away from him, which is really not that unusual. Then he's left standing by the car, torn whether to take it or not. Finally, he climbs in, still seeming a bit uncertain - but it beats the subway. Of course, instead of the ice cream parlour, he takes it straight home.


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