Reunion

Who: Cheyenne and Dutch
Where: The Hill Street Theatre
When: Night

'Keep playing along. Tonight it matters,' the note had said, and that? Well, that had Dutch worried sick. It wasn't that the note had been waiting in the shop when he'd opened up that morning, sitting on top of his tool box. There were plenty of ways that could've been arranged, after all, especially when your employers were the Families. No, what had gnawed at him all day was the implications of the note itself. Keep playing along? Of course he was going to, the result of not doing so was too much to bear.

'Tonight it matters'? That was what had him sweating. Had something changed? Was Cheyenne in danger? Dutch didn't know, and the unknown had driven him to spend the day in his office with a constantly refilling glass of gin. He'd stopped when the shop closed, giving himself time to sober up and to clean his old pistol for the first time in years. Dutch was praying he wouldn't need it, that tonight might be some mysterious blessing that would end his torment and her captivity. He was, in fact, still praying for that as he lingered outside of the Hill Street Theatre, watching the front of the building and the streets feeding into it from both sides.

Cheyenne, for her part, had also gotten a note. Hers had been significantly less cryptic, however, and was just a note asking her to meet up at the Theatre. She figured it was either Elle, Adriana, or Lila who had sent it, maybe a photorapher who wanted to set up a shoot or something, and was just being weird about it. A lot of photographers were a little eccentric. Herself included, really. And she did have her camera with her, and she was taking shots of the street, getting the lights in, and she walked up outside the place, and snapped a few shots of it, before she stood over by the lone street lamp, where her note had indicated. It took her a second to catch it, but there was a small envelope taped to the thing, and she tore it off and opened it up.

Inside was a photograph, though it was an old one and she didn't recognize the woman or the infant she was holding. There was a man in the frame as well, though he wasn't framed properly, and he was only partially there, his face cut off as he stood behind what was presumably his family. "Huh." she said, not quite sure what it was meant to mean. Turning it over, she saw a vague date, July 7th, though the year was rubbed away.

Dutch couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Sixteen long years and it had never gotten easier for him. At least once a year he was given glimpses of her, he'd watched her grow up from afar for her whole life, but he always froze like this. What was she doing here? Were they testing him, waiting for him to slip up? Honestly, Dutch didn't think the idea so outlandish, which meant he needed to leave. But watching Cheyenne tear open that envelope and study the contents was tranquilizing all on its' own. Transfixed, he watched for a long moment before he started what he hoped was a nondescript walk along the street and abandoned the spot he'd been standing and watching her from.

As he got closer, she looked up, since she was meant to be meeting someone, and figured they'd arrived. Only it wasn't anyone that she recognized. Or...wait. Maybe she did. She smiled, looking up from the photograph, and she glanced around. "Hey...you look familiar...am I supposed to be meeting you?" she asked. "I got a note..." she explained, just so she didn't come off like a crazy person should this not be who she was meant to meet. Which then made her wonder if the killer was around anywhere, and she internally rolled her eyes at herself for not having considered that possibiltiy sooner. Bright, Cheyenne. Really bright.

He twitched when she spoke to him, just waiting for headlights to wash over them from some alley, to hear the sound of a Thompson's slide being pulled as ammo fed into the chamber. "I... I don't think so, miss," Dutch rumbled after a moment, feeling pangs stabbing at him as he lied to her face. The first words he had in so long, and he chose to lie. "You look a little familiar yourself," he rumbled, not looking her way longer than a few seconds, "But I'm pretty sure I'd remember you. A note, you say? Sounds like something out of a dimestore spy rag, or highschool." Dutch managed a slight grin as he stopped walking, hands in his pockets while he lingered, waiting for death to swoop in on them both.

She laughed a little, feeling slightly better, even if she recognized if the killer had really gotten as many women as they thought, he probably was at least mildly social. Enough to get them to follow him for a moment. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" she agreed, shaking her head. "It just said to meet here. And there was this picture." she said, holding it up. "Strange, isn't it?" she asked rhetorically. She shivered a bit, and turned her back more to the wind as the rain still pelted down, and she was happy she had a huge umbrella that was keeping her dry. "Hey! I think you worked on my car before." she said, latching onto that memory. It had been years ago, but she vaguely remembered. There was an association in her head with her car, anyhow.

The streetlight was cutting through the rain, a rare occurrence given how many in the city seemed to either flicker or die entirely, but it gave Dutch a clear look at the photo that Cheyenne held. He turned as his face twisted up with another anguished stab in his gut, aiming the expression away from Cheyenne for a moment. Mari, darlin'... he thought, recalling his long-dead wife more vividly than the photo could. "It's damn strange," Dutch agreed, letting the rain kiss his face for a moment. He'd brought no umbrella, just a caddy's hat and a thick overcoat. "And I did?" he went on, looking back to her with the faintest hint of a smile, "Well, I hope it's still runnin' alright, miss. If not, bring on down to Occam, ask for Dutch, I'll make sure it gets fixed proper this time."

"Oh, it ran fine!" she said. Right up until I was told I shouldn't have it anymore. she added silently, but didn't actually say. "You did a good job." she assured him. She also stepped a little closer and shifted her grip on her umbrella, so he'd get the benefit as well. "Also, nice to properly meet you, Dutch. I'm Cheyenne. You seem like you don't remember me so I'll save you the flail of having to try and come up with a name." she said good naturedly.

I gave you that name, Dutch thought, hands clenched tight in his coat pockets. "Truth be told, miss? I do know you," he eventually said, almost feeling crafty through his desperation, "One of the guys down at the shop had a calendar with you in it, he was in love with your picture." Up until Dutch had torn the calendar in half and slugged the guy for trying to stop him, that is. "Felt like it might be a bit odd of me to say so right off the bat, though. Cheyenne, it's a pleasure," he said with a more solid grin. "No kind of weather for a mixer, though. Can I call you a cab?"

She laughed again, and blushed a faint bit. "Ah." she said. "I can understand how that might be awkward. Though truthfully, there are people out there who run up just to tell me that they've got me plastered all over their walls." she admitted. "Think they'll be disappointed when I stop showing up in calendars?" she asked. "And I don't know. I kind of like the weather. It's kind of pretty if you get over the 'also kind of miserable' aspect."

"Think that about sums up the whole of the city, miss," Dutch mused with a wry smirk, "And what do you mean, when you stop?" She was stopping her modeling? That was a blessing for Dutch to hear, it was nearly worth all the anxiety this visit was causing. "I know my buddy down at the shop'll be crushed," he told her, nodding, "But I think a few disappointed folks is a fair price. So... why? You off to bigger pursuits?" Outside of the city? Please, baby, please get the hell away from here.

"I wish." she said, then seemed to realize that she'd said something a little too candidly, and she covered with a smile. It just lacked the spark her others had. "My family wasn't happy with my decision to go to school, they wanted me to stick around here, and have gotten me tutors and all. So possibly not bigger persuits, or better, just a change. I'd like to be the one taking pictures." she said, holding up her camera. "Speaking of...can I take your picture?" she asked. Usually she just took a shot without asking permission, but in this case she'd have to fanagle her umbrella, the picture she was holding, probably get him to stand someplace with better light...

She couldn't. Rather, it was about the worst thing she could do. What if her caretakers saw it? The whole house of cards would come toppling down. "I'd, ah... I'd hate to break your camera," Dutch ventured with a small, cynical grin, "Or scare the fella developing your film." Which wasn't an outright 'no', Dutch didn't think he'd be able to deny her much of anything now that they were both here.

"Well, the fella developing my film is looking strangely feminine these days since I do it myself." she said, with a little cute grin. "And you won't break my camera. Please?" she asked, really wanting to. "I'd like to commemorate 'weird note night'." she told him, if he needed a proper excuse for her wanting his photograph.

That smile? Knowing that for once it was for him instead of just something he saw at a distance? Dutch was helpless against it, even if he knew he'd regret this. And she likely would too, even if Cheyenne never knew why. "You got it," he finally answered, stepping back from Cheyenne's umbrella cover. Dutch tugged his hat off and wedged it in a coat pocket, looking up into the rain for a moment of silent thanks as he let the water rush over his face and hair, slicking it back with both hands.

She put the picture back into it's envelope and pocketed it, then she stood back a little, sort of half propping her umbrella with the help of the post, and she brought her camera up, lining up a picture of the man. She smiled, and then snapped it, the bright flash bulb lighting up the street for a second. "Thank you!" she said, clearly pleased, and she let the camera fall back again to the strap around her neck.

"Happy to help," he replied with a warm, if short, laugh at Cheyenne's enthusiasm, "But with the weirdness commemorated, you oughta get out of the rain. And I'm sorry you didn't get more directness with your note, whatever it was." 'Whatever it was' was actually a concern for Dutch. Someone had sent them both here, but who? Who might be watching this meeting right now, waiting for them? He couldn't find out without exposing himself and her. Maybe I can... Dutch mused, wondering if Pepper or some of the other local vagrants might have any leads.

She winked. "A little rain never hurt anyone." she told him. "And it's not your fault the note was weird. But I suppose I got a story out of it and a photograph. Plus a new photo, and I met you! So, I'll consider the evening not a waste." she said. It was better than sitting at home just sort of wondering what to do, or daydreaming about getting out. "I guess I shouldn't wander around too much though, with the killer out there." she said, making a face.

As if Dutch didn't have enough horrible scenarios about what could happen to Cheyenne in his head already. The thought of her ending up like those other women sickened him and let the chill of the rain really seep into his bones. "Just gotta hope the cops manage to get something right for once, hm?" he rumbled, spotting the distant dome light of a taxi, "Hell, at this point I'd breathe easy even if it wasn't the cops that tended to this." And honestly, it was true. The DiGiovanni could get things done faster, and if they actually stopped the murders? Dutch wouldn't protest their methods in this one case.

"I hope something gets done." Cheyenne said. "It's scary." she admitted. She also moved to put her umbrella over his head again. "Would you walk me to get a cab?" she asked. "I don't mean to impose or anything, but now that I'm thinking about it, I shouldn't even have showed up here tonight alone, and..." well it had been less than intelligent, and she shouldn't continue on that theme now that she was catching onto it.

"I'd be happy to, miss," Dutch told her without missing a beat, "Lord knows that the fella in the paper isn't the only nasty soul in this city, and I'd prefer you avoid every one of them." Finally tugging his hat free, Dutch shook it back into shape before he pulled it on over dripping hair. "C'mon," he went on, nodding in the direction he'd seen the taxi lights, "Think your prayers just might be answered up here a ways."

"Cheyenne, not miss." she corrected good naturedly. She walked along with him, keeping the umbrella over them both. "And I know. There's a lot of...darkness in the city, I suppose." And she documented a lot of it, though the girl was still a little on the painfully naive side on that score. "I just don't usually have anyone I'm around with. I had a friend before, but she's been a little busy lately." Or, she'd been non-existent, but that was hardly the point and not something to bring up.

"That there is, it's no beacon to be sure," Dutch agreed thoughtfully. He'd seen that darkness up close in the past, he knew its' myriad names, and just how black it could be. "I'm not the sort with an entourage either," he joked wryly as they walked, "But trouble mostly skips me. Muggers can tell when I've got less cash than they do." On his bad nights? He knew he was indistinguishable from the vagrants in the city, and sometimes that worked in his favor. "You oughta make sure you've got someone reliable, though. Trouble's always waiting for the night a friend's too busy to be there."

Yeah, I know. she thought. Because she also had someone following her. Though right now, she didn't feel anyone's eyes on her. Still, she was thinking more and more that she wasn't paranoid, and that wasn't a good thing. She'd rather be paranoid. "I'll keep that in mind, but I don't know anyone who'd want to follow me around for no reason." she said honestly. "And hiring someone to do that just seems...well. Distasteful, ya know?" she asked.

Dutch was thinking that there was probably already someone who'd been hired to do just that, really. The Walkers protected their investments, and she was also a bargaining chip to keep him in line. No way would she be left entirely to her own affairs. "I'd bet good money that there's plenty of fellas who'd follow you around, but probably not for reasons you like," Dutch observed, smiling to himself. He felt the paternal edge rise up there, the urge to keep her safe from the men who he knew drooled over her photos, but Dutch knew he couldn't do a damned thing about it.

Making a face, Cheyenne glanced over. "I've had that more than once." she admitted. And might now. "People seem to have this idea about what I am or who I am, and they don't seem to really understand when it turns out not to be the case. Some people don't take it so well." Which was heavily playing into why she was changing professions.

"Buying into the fantasy?" Dutch mused as they walked, "Like expecting Errol Flynn to swing a sword proper cuz' he played Robin Hood?" Dutch understood peoples' preconceptions, he suffered from them somewhat as well. He knew it wasn't anything like Cheyenne, but for his daughter? Well, there was no bottom to his empathy. "I don't know that there's much that's as dangerous as grabbing onto fake hope in this city." Which, it seemed, was what her admirers were doing. They wanted the girl in the photos, not the one who wanted to be taking them. Hell, Giacomo, what do you think you're doing?

"Yeah, like that. Like they expect me to be...well." she made a vague gesture. "And I'm not." And she grew ever weary of everyone's assumptions and would like it all to quit now. "So, I'm changing things up. I'm sure some new girl will take my place and people'll forget about me soon enough." She hoped so, anyways. Maybe whoever was following her would find a new obsession.

Dutch smiled at that, stepping one foot out into the road as he started waving at the taxi early. "One blessing in this city? People do seem pretty short-lived with their memories, so you just might hit a patch of luck there." He hoped so too. More than anything, Dutch wanted his daughter back, but if that couldn't happen? He wanted her to get a quiet, peaceful life that made her happy. "I'll put in a good word for you down at St. Peter's," he added, chuckling, "Not that the man upstairs ever returns my calls or nothin'."

"You do that." she said, with a smile. "And I don't think he returns anyone's calls. I think we're in a bad place for it. Maybe there's some place far away from here that gets all their prayers answered, but here? Not so much." she assessed. She didn't do a whole lot of praying, period. There were often candles at churches, and it drove her to distraction, so she didn't bother attending anymore. "But you never know, right?"

In truth, he didn't do much praying either. He really only even set foot in church when his grief got the best of him once every few months, but Dutch wasn't sharing that. "Nope, you really never know," he agreed, waving more emphatically as the taxi drew close and rolled over to the curb, "And if there is a place like you say? Think I know where to plan my vacation."

"See if they get group rates." Cheyenne said. "I'm sure there's a lot of people here that could use it." she told him, and paused as the cab stopped, and she opened up the door. "Thanks for everything, and making my night more interesting." she said genuinely. "It was nice meeting you, maybe I'll see you around again sometime." she suggested.

At first he was wordless, just nodding slightly and waiting for Cheyenne to climb into the cab. It was already hurting, letting her go again, and Dutch really just wanted to tell her everything, to get her out of here and make a run for it. But they'd send people, they'd find him... they'd make him watch what happened to her. "Cheyenne," he eventually said, catching her door and hesitating as his gut and his brain wrestled for control of his tongue, "It was nice meeting you too. Get home safe now." Don't tell anyone my name. Lose that film. I love you so much, darlin'... The rain was a blessing, masking his grief as Dutch stepped back from the cab, turning on one heel and starting away.

Cheyenne shook her umbrella out the door, and waved at the man as he retreated. "Bye, Dutch! Get home safe yourself!" she called, before she shut the door and headed for home. It was a strange meeting, a strange encounter, but it could have been a lot worse. Taking out the photograph she'd gotten from the lamp post, she sat back in the cab and stared at the family, wondering who they were and what secrets they held.

She didn't recognize her infant self.