lazy_but_loyal | upstairs: for jemma

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jemma simmons,
oom

upstairs: for jemma

[Continued from here.]

Pam slips the key into the lock and pushes the door open, flicking a nearby light switch. Immediately the expansive room is illuminated warmly by a black chandelier in the center of the ceiling.

The decor has an old-fashioned, Victorian feel to it, but with modern sensibilities. And also lots of pink and black.

The walls are a very deep shade of pink; the thick carpet is black. Two chairs set at a round table with a black marble top have gilded arms and backs, with satiny pink cushions. Black velvet drapes are pulled closed and tight against the windows. The bed, at the far end of the room, is king-sized with an ornate padded headboard, the carvings matching the chairs. The sheets are black silk, and the pillows and duvet, of course are pink.

A black armoire stands in one corner by the bed, a matching dresser on the bed's opposite side. Both are empty, only because Pam hasn't had a chance to fill them yet.

Pam shuts the door and makes sure it locks behind Jemma.

"Go on and make yourself comfortable."

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Jemma doesn't disappoint, completely lit up at this revelation.

"What? It..." She interrupts herself to hurry to the bathroom to get a better look. Dizziness? Dizziness is boring, go away, she's ignoring that for now, there's science to be had.

"That is amazing, I mean, obviously it's healing by second intention but there's absolutely no evidence of abnormal collagen formation, there isn't even any underlying erythema, is it a enzyme or...?" And she's back, leaning against the door frame as the only concession to the fact she really ought not be dashing around at the moment.

She waits in quiet bemusement, occasionally looking down at her manicured fingernails, as Jemma raves on with apparent glee.

Finally, Pam looks back up at her as she stands...well, leans in the doorway.

"Vampire blood has healing properties. I've heard it described as being life itself. Which, I suppose, is true in a way, or I wouldn't be here. Just a drop or two from my thumb healed your skin. Simple as that."

Somehow, she knows there will be more questions.

Pam is correct (of course there's going to be questions, it's kind of what she does, constantly). That information just launches her into another round of questions and observations delivered at high speed, never really waiting for an answer to her questions before extrapolating on the information she has and answering them herself.

...

And then she stops, and blinks.

"No wonder you hate scientists." She's just realized that surely some clever someone has realized this fact about vampires, and... well. She remembers that comment about not wanting to be a science experiment.

Pam just watches her, expression impassive. For someone who isn't familiar with her moods and attitudes, one might think she'd be either bored or pissed off. She might be tuning Jemma out at some point. But not completely.

Jemma finally falls silent. And Pam tilts her head at her.

"I just don't hate scientists, sugar. I hate nearly everyone until I decide that I don't. I simply don't trust scientists as well."

She smiles, rather like a cat with lots of secrets.

A cat that can kill you if those secrets get out.

Edited 2014-08-14 22:29 (UTC)

She gets a 'do have some faith' eyeroll in response - possibly not the most... common response, but she's gotten that smile before. Jemma is not in habit of telling secrets.

"Can't blame you." She makes to shrug and step back into the bathroom, but the world does that spinning thing again, sending her her stumbling into the other side of the doorframe.

"Cleaning up, then sitting down. Right."

She raises an eyebrow in response to the eyeroll (so they're back to eye gestures now?), but Pam gets her meaning. For Pam, trusting humans has never come easy. She's not paranoid -- there are paranoid vampires, and they're just as dangerous as a paranoid human with a stockpile of wooden stakes -- she's just cautious.

Fortunately for Jemma, she tastes nice, so Pam likes her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks, though it's also for Pam's own benefit. "You don't have to keep our little thing a secret, but if you go downstairs bumping into things like a ball in a pinball machine, people might ask and get the wrong idea."

"That... is a fair point." Expecting the worst case scenario just becomes... normal, for her job. "That's not good. Hang on." Jemma ducks back into the bathroom, this time being a bit more careful about her balance. She comes back out of the bathroom scrubbing at newly-cleaned skin.

"From what I know, the rats do take out. I have a room here."

"Oh, good. Put whatever you want on my tab, then."

Eric might do something similar. Sometimes Pam has to think in 'what would Eric do?' terms when it comes to dealing with humans and their needs. It often comes off as being nice.

She grins, and leaves the towel behind in the bathroom before crossing the room again. She doesn't try to saunter - she's given up on that skill, along with things like running in heels.

"Good thing I don't have caviar tastes - that's a dangerous offer."

Pam smirks, patting the spot next to her on the bed as an invitation to Jemma to sit down before she falls down.

"As long as you don't throw a party for all your friends on my tab and tell me that you were really, really hungry, we're good."

"Well, it'd probably just be me and Fitz, but he hasn't come here in quite a while, so..." She shrugs, shaking out her shirt and pulling it on.

"So he knows about this place, too, does he? Mm. When I found out, was I pissed at Eric for not telling me." She gives a little snort and shakes her head with a side of eyeroll.

"Fitz wasn't too terribly pleased with me, but he's gotten over it." She couldn't have done much else - going against Fury's express orders isn't something she's likely to do any time soon. Or ever. Probably ever.

She shrugs. "Yeah. When you've got a door that opens to the end of the fucking universe, you have to get over it kind of quickly."

"No kidding." Sometimes you do it willingly, sometimes you're forced into it to avoid repercussions from a telepath.

She supposes the previous option would have been more graceful.

Jemma is grateful for the sweater's warmth, shrugging it on and fiddling with her collar to get it to lie flat.

Edited 2014-08-16 05:49 (UTC)

Pam sighs a little and gets up. Standing in front of Jemma, she takes charge of her blouse's collar and straightens it for her. She often does the same for Eric, fussing over his clothes when they aren't t-shirts and tank tops.

"I ought to take you shopping some day."

"You... should?" She replies, unaccountably flustered by the fussing.

"Sure. It'll be fun."

Her dry, flat tone doesn't make it sound as if it'd be much fun, but that's just how she is.

"Like I said, you have an adorable figure. I've already got some pieces in mind that would look really hot on you."

She arranges Jemma's hair over her shoulders with a scrutinizing look.

"I... don't think I've ever worn anything adequately described as 'hot'." Jemma replies, watching Pam with an expression that's fallen somewhere between 'bemused' and 'mildly alarmed'.

"That's because you hadn't met me yet."

She takes Jemma's chin in her fingertips and tilts her face up, turning it this way and that, assessing what shade of foundation might look best on her, before letting her go.

"Anyway. How're you feeling now?"

"I'm fine, honestly, I'm fine." She laughs, still conflicted but figuring that probably isn't going to change any time soon. "You needn't fuss."

She holds her hands up and shrugs.

"All right, sugar. Just asking."

There's a mirror above the dresser and she turns to it, checking her makeup and hair one more time.

"I have to get back downstairs soon and wait for Eric. I need to give him a little piece of my mind."

"Poor him." Jemma is quite happy to not be part of that conversation at all. It's the same reason she tends to back out of rooms that have more than one angry agent with a higher clearance than she has. She pushes herself to her feet again, resisting the lure of the (ridiculously comfortable) bed, a bit of a slouch her only concession to what happened.

She delicately wipes the corner her mouth with the pad of her pinkie finger, evening out her lipstick.

"Mm. We were having an audition for dancers. They were all shitty until this super-hot chick walked in. Eric told me to get out because he wanted her for himself. Selfish bastard."

She fluffs up her hair and turns around.

"Ready to go?"

Jemma's expression clearly communicates that she's never had this problem in her life.

Ever.

She's even having trouble imagining having this problem.

"Er. Yes." She stumbles over the words, but thankfully not over her feet as she follows Pam back out into the hall. She'd rather go focus on the problem of figuring out what to have for dinner.

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lazy_but_loyal - 2014-08-18 05:35 (UTC) - Expand

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