five days after black and red collide

[blacklodged]

Who: Dale Cooper and Heather Mason
Where: The Ecruteak City Dinerrrr
When: December 14th
Summary: After those three days that were lost a lot of people probably had weird dreams about things they can't for the life of them remember. Coop and Heather are two of these people. And they've got some things to talk about. (..or as Kit excellently

Comments

[foolishwren]

It's the truth-- not many folks are out and about, and that means not many folks are patronizing the little mom-and-pop diner Cooper's ducked into tonight. What few people are in there are lingering in their booths and nursing hot beverages, reluctant to venture back out into the cold.

The result is a quiet night for the staff, Heather included.

Which, honestly?

Is kind of a good thing.

She's had a lot on her mind.

When the agent and the accompanying gust of snowy wind come slipping in through the door, she's perched at the counter, hunched over one of the kiddie menus with a pen. There's not much going on on the network tonight, leaving her to doodle on things for entertainment. Not that it's working too well, judging by the way most of her creative additions (you know, adding mustaches, sombreros, fangs or the occasional arrow-wounds to the diner's mascots... the usual) are all degenerating into frustrated scribbles.

But every time the door opens, there's a big old draft, so she looks up-- HEY, IT'S ICE CREAM BUDDY.

Tonight's no night for ice cream, though.

So she grabs up the fabled coffeepot and heads right on over. He's a better distraction than kiddie menus.

"How 'bout that weather, huh?"

[blacklodged]

The response comes first in the form of a broad grin from behind his hands that he'd briefly been running over his face, just to get that last bit of lingering melty snow and chill off his skin.

"My prognosis? Passive aggressive with a notably purposeful aloofness."

Which is, in all fairness, fairly accurate.

He leans back in a relaxed manner - the conversation is a bit of a distraction for him as well, from the series of rather unsettling images are hovering around the edges of his conscious mind. For now, he pushes them back. And glances rather meaningfully at that pot of coffee.

"And that looks like good news to me." Unless ... "Based solely on the assumption that you're not out to do me any harm."

Weapons, and all.

[foolishwren]

... What a classic Cooper answer, on both counts.

She just grins and holds the coffee up.

"Aw, Coop, dontcha trust me?"

She motions towards the mugs clustered at the end of the table.

"Pass me one of those and I'll pour you a cup."

[blacklodged]

He'd laugh, but he settles with an amused little 'hm' before he picks out one of the white cups and slides it over to her.

"Would that be your own brew?"

One of his typically curious ways for small talk. He wouldn't necessarily have pegged her as the kind to get a job as a waitress, but she looks pretty comfortable. Besides, if it's not that good he'll know who to tease. ... or praise, if it's the other way around. Because he's never really short on that.

[foolishwren]

True to her word, she pours the coffee into the mug rather than onto anywhere that would therefore classify it as a weapon.

"Me? Nah. I just pour it. They don't trust me with the coffee machine for some reason."

She does seem pretty comfortable, all things considered-- this isn't the first waitress job she's actually had, which would probably explain it. As much as conventional jobs often require some level of dignity sacrificed, she's worked odd jobs since high school so she's sort of used to it.

"So when did you get back in town?"

[blacklodged]

He raises an eyebrow her way, in the sort of I can't imagine why he may or may not be thinking, but that said he'd say she's doing a pretty good job with the pouring so he's not to judge her other waitress qualities.

He'll take a sip or two before answering anything else and - oh, man. Yes, that's almost exactly what he wanted. It could have been a touch stronger but he's not going to complain when it's warm and caffeinated, and he closes his eyes briefly and everything while he utterly savours it.

Like a man being offered a cup of water in the desert, really, to use a famous analogy.

But he does pull a bit of a face at her question. The porcelain makes a dull little sound against the tabletop when he sets the cup down to answer it: tone even, eyes a little dark.

"Two days ago. I found myself back here after the collective memory loss."

[foolishwren]

There's something about hot drinks in general on snowy nights that just seem to make everything feel better, even if only for a few moments.

Although there's not a whole lot it can do about amnesia.

Heather can't help but grimace, just a little.

"... Oh. Yeah. That."

It had happened twice before, so it no longer... alarmed her like it had the first time. Not quite as much, anyway. But it was still... well, unnerving.

Especially since this time... what few memories she DID have gave her more reason to be alarmed than the absence of the others did.

[blacklodged]

And the same goes for Coop. The first time not much had happened at all, and while the second had certainly been interesting, this third time had brought flashbacks and dreams that bothered him on a completely different level. Hell, the first times a lot of the memories had almost been enjoyable to look at past the initial shock of the fact that they were even there.

This time, red drapes are at the forefront of his mind. ...well, there's something else too.

He looks at Heather with a mixed expression. Sighs, but his question is business-like in nature.

"Heather, do you have a moment?"

Indicating the seat opposite of him.

[foolishwren]

For Heather, the first'd had its weird moments (you just didn't forget about vivid dreams involving being chased by the Koolaid Man) and even some creepy ones, but it hadn't hung over her like a cloud of malodorous smoke.

The second had been largely unmemorable aside from an unsettling feeling that things had gone on she hadn't particularly been happy with. But even that discomfort hadn't clung to her like some kind of unpleasant lint.

This one?

This wouldn't quite leave her alone.

Because the 'dreams' she'd had were not normal... and what she could remember of them were far more relevant than she liked to admit.

She looks back at Coop with an almost owlish expression. A sort of 'Who, me, officer?' look. She doesn't think she's in trouble, but it's a hard habit to kick.

"Uh... lemme ask if I can go on break?"

[blacklodged]

"Please do."

Solemn, maybe, but like her, there are things weighing on his mind. But for him, it's not so much bad as just plain troubling.

In the meantime, he'll just have some more coffee.

[foolishwren]

She nods, then turns and heads back past the counter and into the kitchen, letting the swinging doors creak shut behind her as she goes.

A few moments later, she reappears, coming back over to the the table and scooting into the seat opposite Cooper.

"We didn't try to kill each other and then forget most of it again, did we?"

Because that's the first thing that springs to mind when it comes to Cooper wanting to have a serious discussion with her after a bout of amnesia. After all, she doesn't remember Cooper himself popping up in any of those 'dreams'...

Even if she has a suspicion that he might.... know something.

[blacklodged]

You know, that's still not funny. But it's not the important matter at hand and he can tell it's something she's saying to try to relieve the situation a little, which he supposes he can't blame her for. Something serious definitely settled over their little space in the warm open diner.

So he shoots her a look, but it softens when he goes strsight to the point.

"Who is Alessa?"

(Here we go again Heather, better buckle up.)

He remembers the name especially, written in the snow in big childish letters. The others images are a little blurrier but he does recall the cracked burnt skin and the smell of it.

And that's what has him certain whatever images are in his head are actually memories, not dreams. You don't pick up on smells in dreams.

[foolishwren]

... Well, if she was expecting anything, it wasn't that.

She had reached over for one of the mugs to pour some coffee for herself, but froze mid-reach when the name left his mouth.

Alessa.

Nobody called her Alessa. Except Claudia.

Nobody knew about Alessa. ... Except Claudia. ... And Vincent. ... And Dad. ... And okay, maybe a few people who she had told about that.

But not many, all things considered.

Not even she can pretend that she hadn't just visibly reacted to the word, so... for once, playing dumb isn't on the agenda. Instead, coffee forgotten, she rests her hands on the edge of the table.

"Where'd you hear that name?"

[blacklodged]

He catches her movements, body language. It's like she's bracing herself ... and given the state of the girl he met that looked like Heather but apparently wasn't, he can't fault her for that.

He does have the grace to hesitate for a brief second before he answers her.

"I believe I met her. At some point during those three days."

[foolishwren]

... Oh.

Oh.

Well... that... makes sense.

She's not sure she likes the idea, though.

Running her tongue along her lips, she shifts her glance to the rest of the diner for a moment-- then raps her fingers along the edge of the table and looks back to him.

"What happened."

It isn't a question.

[blacklodged]

Nothing happened. He doesn't say that, but he turns a hand over on the table: palm upwards, fingers slightly spread. It's the kind of not-shrug that could mean I don't know, but in this case, it's just that. Nothing happened.

"She was looking for you."

That's ... all he's got. And he can barely recall anything from the meetin after letting her know that he didn't know where her (more lively-looking) lookalike was.