as_damaged | ☎ voicemail

There isn't an answer to that-- instead she comes through the door a moment later, phone in hand.

"No need to wait," she says cheerfully, slipping into a seat. She's nicely dressed enough to suggest she came straight from work-- or, at least, from the hospital, since truth be told, Cameron spends most of her time helping out, even when she isn't on the clock.

"Sorry about that."

Cindy's barely finished flipping her phone closed when Cameron shows up. Nice speed on that answer, though in all honesty, she did start without the other woman. One sip of the Merlot in front of her constitutes a head start.

"I just said that so you can put a move on it," Cindy grins, signaling for the bartender. She's dressed just as nicely as the doctor, but maybe a little more flashy in only the head-to-toe way red Cindy knows how. "Pick your poison."

No one knows how this unlikely friendship between a Fable and a Mundy was started, but as long as Cameron remembers her place in Cindy's mental world, this Fable can roll with it.

Not much of a head start, and Cameron won't complain. After a moment's consideration, she settles on a glass of white wine. As the barkeep steps off to fill her order Cameron settles into her seat, willing herself to relax a little. It's been an exciting few weeks-- and not really in the good way.

"How've you been?" Her drink arrives, and after a quiet, polite thank-you she takes a sip. "Settling back into things?"

"As much as one can settle with a lawsuit hanging over her head." It seems like whenever Cindy turns her back, something either explodes, falls down, or somebody gets sexually harassed. As if Fabletown being no longer... well, the Fabletown she knew so well, Cindy had to come back to horror stories about Grell being up to no good. From three employees, she's back down to two because Grell just couldn't stick to the employee rulebook.

"I'm tempted to go on a vacation myself," Cindy muses, chin resting in her hand. Personally, her vacations usually involved some top secret mission where she got to gun down any minor and major annoyances, but here, there are as many missions as they are actual vacations. Some things she's still getting used to.

Edited 2009-09-05 05:29 (UTC)

"It's not as glamorous as it sounds," she laughs. "Nowhere to go, and spending time alone..." She lets that trail off. Tick, tick-- and though the cat helps, it's not the same as other people. Then again, maybe Cameron just doesn't know how to have a good time. Plenty of people would cite that as a reason.

"What lawsuit?"

"Alone?"

Well, Cindy has Tybalt so spending time alone wouldn't be much of a problem. They have a lot to The nowhere to go part, maybe. There's the beach, but without a nice hotel to go with it, it's just like going to Coney Island for the day.

"Grell couldn't keep his trap shut to another employee and she screamed sexual harassment." Cindy rolls her eyes as she gives Cameron the details. Usually, she'd have no problem firing Grell as soon as she heard the story, but the man does know his shoes and it's already hard enough finding an employee that doesn't go back home within the first week in this place. "I'm taking it out his paycheck, but it's still a pain in the ass."

"Just me and the cat." She smiles faintly; a thin expression without much pleasure in it. Things would be better if not for the mess with Chase; without that, of course, she'd have no need for a vacation. But even when they weren't sleeping together-- dinner, now and then, or a drink... It had been a nice way to spend an evening.

"What a mess," she said sympathetically, tracing aimless circles on the surface of the bar with her finger. "Bad enough to end up back here, and in the middle of that..." Cameron sighs lightly. "I've had two of my coworkers nearly bleed to death, personally."

"Watch out. If it stays to you and the cat only, you'll be eating frosting out of the can too," Cindy laughs over the rim of her glass. She can tell the smile is forced; Cindy's done many of the same expressions. Not sure of what's going on behind the face, she travels the road lightly, waiting for the right time to poke at the problems Cameron obviously has.

"Side effect of the curses?" Good thing she didn't come back on a curse day; she had enough on her plate to deal with. No need to add a body swap or a ghost dad in her house to it.

Of all the people in the City, Cindy's the likeliest to get something out of her on this count. Cameron can't talk to anyone she knows-- they all know each other, and can't know why this stings so deeply-- and really, she doesn't have that many friends from outside her own universe.

"Attacks, actually. Different attackers." Each one weirder than the other, and she suppresses a shudder at the thought. "I took off after the first, came back for the second." She raises her eyebrows in wry amusement. "Not a great way to frame a vacation."

And there's nothing Cindy loves more than personal information. She's not going to use it against Cameron because the woman hasn't given her a reason too; she's just nosy sometimes.

"Would have sent me right back on vacation, to be fucking honest," Cindy replies as she drains her glass and flags down the bartender for a refill. "Who and who?"

Attackers and victims, she means.

It's not like there's much to gain, anyway, from blackmailing Cameron.

"Nearly did," she agrees, taking another sip. "But I don't want to tempt fate into doing worse to get me back." There's a laugh with that, surprisingly untinged by bitterness. Honestly, Cameron loves what she does-- or, at least, is fulfilled by it-- and she's happier working than not.

"First was Chase, by... someone we work with, who was-- not herself. House..." trailing off, Cameron shrugs. She's not clear on most of the details of his attack, and has the feeling she doesn't want to be.

Cindy knows House; she's spoken to him a few times, nothing really past small chit chat via the network. The other name she's not familiar with.

"Chase?" Her reply comes with a bit of a distracted brow raise as she nods silently to the bartender when he does his job with the wine. "And what do you mean not herself?"

"Someone else from home-- another one of House's team." There's a clipped, careful detachment there that doesn't mesh with her description of him as a co-worker, or her concern for his safety.

"As for that..." Frowning faintly, she shrugs. "I don't understand it entirely. It was a bit like she'd been possessed, or had a split personality take her over-- something to do with magic." The details here, too, elude her. Eden hasn't been awfully forthcoming about her sidhe side, and Cameron sometimes wonders how well she understands what occurred.

Really, can Cameron make her issues any more obvious? Cindy's a pro at picking up changes in tones; call it a learned spy skill. From what she can hear, Cameron probably doesn't like this Chase co-worker of hers or just doesn't know him very well. It's not really important, but like everything else, it's stashed in the back of Cindy's mind for later.

"Magic, huh?" Cindy muses, not quite admitting she knows far more about the subject than usual passerby would assume. In fact, she's not sure if Cameron knows just what Cindy is short for and what her background story is. Cindy hasn't kept that secret as guarded as she used to, but she hasn't outright spilled the beans either. Most people put two and two together and came up with the right answer. If Cameron has any intelligence in that pretty little head of hers, she'd know by now.

"Maybe the chick just lost her marbles and he got in the way," she finishes, just providing her input to keep the conversation going. The bartender places a small bowl of pretzels in front of the ladies and one makes its way between Cindy's slim fingers as she awaits a response.

"It wasn't just him... She attacked a number of people, opening up old scars. I don't think..."

She trails off a minute, picking at the pretzels absently. "I spoke to her-- whatever it was, it wasn't Eden." That gets a frown. Accepting the existence, the validity, of magic is one thing-- the reminders that people she knows, people she works with, are that fundamentally different, is a little harder to swallow. Given that Cindy runs a shoe-shop, the suspicion has presented itself-- though the gun-toting badass act undermines it a little; Cameron's more accustomed to the Disney version, after all-- but she's rather not think on it, if she doesn't have to. Just like she doesn't want to remember that the girl she works with on a daily basis was set on a faerie-fueled killing spree.

"Split open an artery, and she likes Chase. If I'd been any longer getting to him--" Shoulders sinking, she shakes her head and takes a swig of wine.

"He would have bled out like a stuck pig?" Cindy supplies. She could care less about this Eden girl, as long as she kept her distance to any of the Fables or any of the people Cindy has oddly come to care for. But as concerned about it as Cameron sounds about the whole deal, Cindy just keeps that tidbut to herself.

"Tell me you kicked some sense into her ass."

It's not the imagery she'd have chosen, but it's apt enough, and she nods at Cindy's comment.

"Someone did; I wasn't involved." Again, not what she'd have said happened-- but the point was more or less the same. "Not really my field."

"Should be every girl's field."

Of course, for Cindy, a good whack upside the head solves everything or at least gets the ball rolling. She doesn't expect Cameron to start toting a rifle like she does, but knowing how to throw a punch couldn't hurt.

"You didn't feel the need to defend your friend?" She knows how Mundies love considering their co-workers 'friends' and she's seen many of them get angry for their sake.

"You might be right."

She's not thinking of Eden at all, suddenly; but of all the things the City does, all the times when maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to tote a rifle. Cameron's more the nonviolent type-- part and parcel of what she is, what she does; she heals, she doesn't harm. But self-defense... is an area she's neglected, as a sheltered circle-queen, and here it's even more vital than in the bad parts of Jersey.

"She had to be stopped. They didn't-- she's all right now. Or at least, she's back to herself." All right is a whole other matter; and not one she wants to get into right now. Co-workers here might not be the odd pseudo-siblings they are at home, but she's not going to spread Eden's private issues around. Everything she's said so far is a matter of public record; anything more would be gossip.

If Cameron's interested in lessons, Cindy's oddly willing to become a teacher. Of course, she'll never give out all her battle secrets, just a few that both won't cast a suspicious eye on what her extra-curricular activities might be and teach Cameron to hold her own.

Nobody said actual princesses and social queens couldn't learn to kick ass.

"I wasn't talking about her." Really, Cindy wasn't. As long as Eden was dealt with, the girl was no longer important to the conversation. The injured party was for purely curious reasons. He technically is really her co-worker as far as Cindy knows.

"Had my hands full dealing with the patients. I don't know anything about magic... I do know about blood loss." She drains the rest of her glass and nods at the bartender when he offers another.

"From everything they said--" everything Chase said, really, but she'd rather take the focus off him-- "it was nearly instantaneous." Picking at the pretzels, Cameron pauses. The City has a knack for making her feel inadequate; she's always hated being the damsel in distress.

"Pepper spray is probably a pretty weak place to start here, though." She smiles a little, embarrassed at her own thoughts.

"Gotta give something for efficiency. In and out."

She's not going to say this, but she'll keep an eye out for them Eden girl. If there's one thing Cindy does is protect her fellow Fables; the few Mundies she has oddly come to care for in this City also fall under her protection watch. If Eden acted the fool once, who's to say she won't do it again, this time to somebody important to Cindy?

Cindy makes a noise of refusal to Cameron's suggestion. "Pepper spray is for useless princesses who don't want to get their dresses dirty. You..."--and this line is proven to be an honest opinion by Cindy studying Cameron from head to toe--"...need something better. Unexpected."

Like a gun, but Cindy thinks Cameron might shoot herself in the head by mistake. Maybe learning how to kill a man with her shoe is a better bet.

"Such as?"

That's an honest question, she could use the advice. The thought of buying a gun has crossed her mind, more than once. Though it would certainly provide some measure of safety, she's not entirely comfortable with the idea. More than she might have been before the City, before sharing the clinic with a former gun-runner. Still. Something less ballistic would be preferable, if only because she'd feel less ridiculous. Defense is one thing, lethality is another; Cindy might kill a man with her shoe. Cameron would settle for simply making sure he stayed down long enough for her to get the hell out of there.

"Guns. Knives. Tactical batons."

All have been Cindy's weapons of choice at one point or another. Nobody expects the well-dressed lady wearing four-inch stilettos to have a five-inch hunting knife strapped to her thigh and that she knows how to use to her advantage in a fight. Maybe Cameron wouldn't be comfortable with a weapon like that, but a little Walther PPK wouldn't be too bad for her.

"Of course," Cindy pauses for another sip and a pretzel, "There's always the physical defense tactic option."

She grimaces slightly. Working the clinic she's seen the end result of all these things and more-- guns most of all, here and at home. Cameron isn't convinced she could shoot anyone. She'd like to believe she couldn't, though in a life or death situation... Better not to let it come to that.

"I'd prefer... maybe taking classes, or something. Less weaponry, more physical. Martial arts. I don't know."

☎ voicemail

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie

☞ somebody told me you'd found new bonhomie