Some Devil, some Angel Tag: Lady C!| INACTIVE

[ROGER DAVIS]

((OOC: www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_rSONcPrcU is the song that Rog is plucking out in the beginning. 'cause I love DMB <3))

He had made two dollars and fifty-seven cents. Enough to buy coffee, sure, but not enough to buy anything decent or life sustaining. A frown spread on his face as he adjusted where he sat on the hard ground.

Central Park wasn't as busy as it could have been, but he figured it was simply because it was early. He wasn't even sure why he was up as early as he was. It had been another night where he couldn't sleep, but it was so common place n ow that Roger wondered if his body had simply given up trying to fight and just lived with the fact that he'd only get a few hours of sleep a night for the rest of his life. Sure, he could have gone to the clinic, gotten sleeping pills, but realistically, he didn't want to have any sort of downers in the house with Mimi. Or himself, for that matter. It was so easy to abuse them. So easy to just crush it up and snort it, or cook it up and shoot it...so he tried not to have the temptation around.

He lifted his head up from the neck of the guitar to glance around at the random people walking around Central Park. Some hand in hand. Some walking their dogs. But all were living.

He needed to start living. He knew he was getting caught up in Mimi's recovering, which is why Collins had basically forced him out of the apartment, telling him that he needed time to himself. He needed to breathe. Roger had tried to protest, but Collins was forceful. Go out. Take in some fresh air. Then come back and deal with Mimi. He and Angel could take care of Mimi for a couple hours.

The air did smell good, but he wouldn't tell Collins that he was right. He couldn't give the man that much, but he knew that his head was getting clearer by the moment. His blood-pressure was getting down to somewhere back in the half-way normal range. He had to keep telling himself that Mimi was going to b e okay. She wasn't going to die or get sick or anything. She was going to be okay and she was going to live.

Because Roger knew he couldn't deal if Mimi was another April. If she left him, too.

[LADY CATHERINE DE BOURGH]

Lady Catherine Beatrice de Bourgh was most seriously pleased, for once in her life. At this time of day she would usually be back at Rosings fast asleep, but there was a sale on at Prada, which warranted an early rising so as to get her perfectly manicured nails on the best items in the shop.

It was a pleasant day to match Her Ladyship's mood; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the air was crisp and clear. Rather than have her driver drop her off outside the store (getting there too early would mean she'd have to wait, and that simply would not do) Lady Catherine instead opted for a route to the store that took her through Central Park.

Her Ladyship wasn't normally one for gardens or parks, central or otherwise. But despite this fact, Central Park had always been a spot Her Ladyship found it in her heart to appreciate. However, it was difficult to appreciate the place when one's ears were being accosted with the horrors of modern music.

Lady Catherine stopped dead in her tracks as the sound of a guitar from nearby made itself known to her. She turned on one Louis Vuitton heel to face the culprit, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. Judging by outward appearance was something Her Ladyship was an expert at; to her this young man appeared to be a scruffy, unkempt and altogether unpleasant individual, presumably a high school drop out or worse.

Normally she would have simply carried on walking and ignored this intruder of her serene little world. But not this morning. This morning was too good to be spoilt by some busker; the man would have to be reprimanded.

Heaving a sigh as if steeling herself up to face an enemy, Lady Catherine drew herself up to her rather imposing full height and stalked over to the guitar player, her usual dignified and haughty air seeming magnified by the re-appearance of her usual bad temper.

"Young man, if you would be so kind as to cease and desist in that dreadful noise of yours! This city has noise pollution enough without you contributing to it. Besides, some people (myself included) would rather listen to the birds singing or our own conversations rather than your racket."

[ROGER DAVIS]

There was a breeze blowing, not too cold like the chilly winter months, but not hot and sticky like New York's famous summer months, and for that, Roger was thankful. He dreaded summers in New York, wishing like hell that he could go somewhere else, somewhere cooler. He wondered if California would have been any cooler. April had said that the summers in California were hot, but there was hardly any humidity. It had been that way in Santa Fe the nearly entire year that he had been there. Roger was lost in his thoughts as he plucked the strings on the guitar, only looking up from the pavement that he sat on when he heard a woman's stern and annoyed voice.

The sound of her voice alone made Roger realise that she wasn't happy, but then he actually listened to the words that were coming out of the woman's mouth, and they made his eyebrow lift in slight confusion. It was then, when his eyes started at her pointed, expensive shoes and moved up her legs, then to her skirt, and finally to her face, did Roger realise just what was happening.

He wondered if this was what Muffy's mother was like. All stiff upper-lipped and stuffy, nose turned up at the world. He figured that's probably what she'd be like. He almost felt bad for Benny. Almost.

"First of all," Roger started, tilting his head slightly as he brought the cigarette that was resting in the ashtray by his guitar case to his lips, taking a drag. "This is New York City. The middle of New York City. As far as I know, pigeons don't make lovely bird-music, and that's all the birds you'll see here. Why don't you go up north? I heard they have pretty nature-lover friendly areas up there." He flicked some ashes into the small ashtray as he looked up at her almost towering frame from where he sat. "Second of all. My name's Roger, not 'young man'. Thirdly...as far as I know, it's still a free country. I'm not doing a damn thing except sitting here. I'm not busking, I'm just sitting here."

Okay, so maybe he was busking, but he didn't have a sign that said give me your quarters, did he? No. So therefore, if people just wanted to accidentally drop coins in front of him...well, was there a rule against finders keepers when it came to pennies and quarters?

[LADY CATHERINE DE BOURGH]

Having said her piece, Lady Catherine had waited expectantly for the man's reply. But the one she received was certainly not what she had been expecting. Firstly the man raised an eyebrow at her, a look of confusion, of all expressions, crossing his face!

And then, as if that look he gave her wasn't enough, the man actually endeavoured to reply, and not in a friendly manner either! Not a shred of respect was in his words, rather a sort of sneer, a 'I don't care what you say' sort of attitude that Her Ladyship was not used to being on the receiving end of. Not to mention his foul language!

Lady Catherine shook her head as if trying to gather her rather befuddled and infuriated thoughts. Didn't this person know who she was?

"This is New York City. The /middle/ of New York City. As far as I know, pigeons don't make lovely bird-music, and that's all the birds you'll see here. Why don't you go up north? I heard they have pretty nature-lover friendly areas up there."

Her Ladyship raised an indignant eyebrow.

"I was using birds as an example of what people would rather listen to," she snapped. "In this case one could say they're hypothetical." She liked to use long words in an attempt to make her sound smarter; a bad habit in many cases as she often forgot what they meant or the context in which they were to be used.

"Second of all. My name's Roger, not 'young man'."

Lady Catherine scoffed at this, both eyebrows now raised in an expression of disdain.

"How was I meant to know your name simply from looking at you? A young man is what you are, therefore I chose to address you as such. And while we're on the subject of names, I sincerely hope you don't know who I am or have at least forgotten...if you do know who I am and you continue to address me with such disrespect I shall be most seriously displeased."

Her Ladyship decided to ignore the man's last comment about it being a free country and him not busking; if he was free to sit there then she was free to enjoy her morning walk to the shops in peace, and he had been busking. So there.

[ROGER DAVIS]

Right. This had to be how Muffy's mom acted. And it was a wonder how Benny hadn't jumped off the 23rd story of his highrise apartment right into the courtyard of the Gracie Mews like his damn dog, Akita. If it had been Roger, he would have killed himself long ago. "It's a pretty bad example, is all I'm saying. I mean, this is New York." As if to accentuate the point, a siren from an ambulance wailed in the distance.

When she scoffed, eyebrows raising in disdain, Roger lifted an eyebrow at her words. "You coulda asked. Y'know, decent people come up, say 'hey, how are you? What's you're name?' and then if they decide to rip you a new asshole, they do it. Good to see you're keeping the sterotype of the average jerkish New Yorker alive and well. Good for you."

Maybe it was just that he wasn't int he mood to deal with snobby rich people. If he had wanted to do that, he would have called up Benny and waxed poetic with him and keeping the lights on in the Loft for one more month. However, the woman's words made Roger's eyebrows lift up. So, she was someone?

Everyone in New York who had money thought they were someone. It was just the way it worked. People who had a couple bucks in their account thought they were hot shit, and apparently, this woman was no exception. However, Alphabet City seemed, at times, it's own little world. One where the tales of the rich and famous hardly permiated it's graffiti-covered walls. The only people that made news in Alphabet City were the mayor when he cut funding. The police when some random hobo got shot in a mysterious altercation that, after a few weeks, would go silent and cold in the police station. When the latest batch of people died from AIDS. No one cared about the rich and famous in Alphabet City, because the rich and famous didn't give a shit about them.

"I have no clue who you are." Roger admitted with a shrug. "If I had to guess...I'd say you have money. Lots of money by the look of your shoes, clothes and your perfume. And you loathe talking to me and want to crush me under the heel of your over-priced heels. Am I getting close, sweetheart?"

The woman was old enough to be his mother, which amused him slightly. She had to have been someone's mother, 'cause she just looked like a mom. And while Roger's tastes for moms was alive and well, she was not the mom he'd like to fuck.

She was just a stuffy, snobby bitch.

[LADY CATHERINE DE BOURGH]

"It's a pretty bad example, is all I'm saying. I mean, this is New York."

Lady Catherine said nothing for once, lips thin with displeasure and disapproval of this man's attitude towards her.

"You coulda asked. Y'know, decent people come up, say 'hey, how are you? What's you're name?' and then if they decide to rip you a new asshole, they do it. Good to see you're keeping the sterotype of the average jerkish New Yorker alive and well. Good for you."

Her Ladyship's dissatisfied impression intensified somewhat, not just at the man's sentiments but at how it was said. She would have opened her mouth as if to make some angry retort but before she could do so the man spoke again, rendering Catherine temporarily speechless with indignantion.

"I have no clue who you are. If I had to guess...I'd say you have money. Lots of money by the look of your shoes, clothes and your perfume. And you loathe talking to me and want to crush me under the heel of your over-priced heels. Am I getting close, sweetheart?"

Her Ladyship's jaw dropped and her usually firm grip on her ridiculously oversized Gucci bag slackened enough so it looked as though she was about to drop it on the ground. Her eyes were wide as saucers and she was certain, without seeing her reflection, that she had gone white with shock.

"How...how dare you!" she spluttered eventually, regaining her grip on the bag and momentarily considering hitting Roger about the face with it (it was heavy enough to warrant being used as an effective weapon). Somehow managing to regain a slight grip on her bruised ego and deciding against the idea, she took a step away from the young man before her. He was right. She did loathe him. "I have never, I repeat, never in all my life been treated with such vulgarity and disrespect! I'm glad now that you don't know who I am; as if I would wish to be known by the likes of you!"

Lady Catherine paused, hoisted her bag back up her shoulder and added what she hoped would be 'the final word'.

"And these shoes are not over priced."

(ooc: I loved that post of yours, Sammeh. XD Epic.)

[ROGER DAVIS]

"How dare you!"

Roger's eyes widened in faux shock as he heard the woman sputter out her shock. Her hand moved, gripping her bag and for a brief second, Roger wondered if the woman was going to simply haul off and hit him upside the head with it. She continued, sputtering out that she had never been treated with such disrespect in all her life, that she was glad she wasn't known by the likes of her.

"Feels bad, doesn't it? To basically be treated like shit by someone you don't eve know?" Roger asked, looking up at her before he sucked in a drag from his cigarette. "Y'should think before you speak, sweetheart. You were the one who walked up here and started going all bitch-tastic on me, when I didn't do shit to you."

When she paused, and then spoke again, Roger scoffed. "Believe me. Some poor little Chinese reject child somewhere probably made those shoes for pennies on the dollar. Whomever you bought them from charges like, 900 dollars or them or whatever. I'd say that's highly overpriced."

[LADY CATHERINE DE BOURGH]

"Feels bad, doesn't it? To basically be treated like shit by someone you don't eve know?"

Strangely enough, the young man was quite correct. That was exactly how Lady Catherine felt. She was used to being treated with deference and respect by everyone and to have her comfortable misconceptions shattered like this wasn't doing her much good in terms of temper.

"Y'should think before you speak, sweetheart. You were the one who walked up here and started going all bitch-tastic on me, when I didn't do shit to you."

"You did so!" snapped Lady Catherine, seeming no longer to care that she was sounding childish and stupid, not to mention fighting a losing battle. "Your horrendous music was interrupting my morning stroll!"

Her Ladyship made as if to turn on her heel and walk away, but what the young man said next made her turn back around, if possible even more furious than before.

"Believe me. Some poor little Chinese reject child somewhere probably made those shoes for pennies on the dollar. Whomever you bought them from charges like, 900 dollars or them or whatever. I'd say that's highly overpriced."

"They were six hundred and fifty dollars actually," she said, surprisingly coolly. "And I'm afraid I don't believe you. Why should I?"

[ROGER DAVIS]

"You did so!"

Roger felt himself resist the urge to repeat her words in almost a childish repeat in a whiney tone, but she continued, and Roger wondered if she'd stamp her foot like the child she was being. "Look, unless you're the president or the queen of England or--" Roger paused, and tilted his head as if thinking. "Nah, the President doesn't care about my kind, and the Queen of England's just all stuffy and shit, so no. Even if you were like, those people, I still wouldn't have cared that I was interrupting your morning stroll." Roger put on a hard and fake accent for the word, making it sound as stuffy as she was being right now. "Besides, you look like you were born rich. God also, with this birthright, gave you the ability to ignore things you don't like or don't approve of. So why don't you use it?"

When Lady Catherine spoke of the shoes and asked why she should believe him, Roger lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, bringing the cigarette up to his lips. "Well shit. I was wrong. Y'get them on the clearance rack?" Roger asked. "Come to my area of town once in a while. There's a couple that live in the apartment below my girlfriend's. Frank and Lucy. They help make blankets from old sheets and shit for the people in Tent City. Hand sew it and everything 'cause not everyone can afford a sewing machine. While you're walkin' around in your six-hundred and fifty dollar shoes, there's some homeless person without even a blanket to cover themselves." Roger paused, and then shrugged again. "I just don't see how it's worth it to spend all that money just 'cause you have it."

[LADY CATHERINE DE BOURGH]

Lady Catherine's furious expression intensified as Roger revealed his open contempt for the President, the Queen of England...clearly he didn't respect people with money and power, when he should. This only served to increase Her Ladyship's dislike for him; that and his terrible fake accent. This was ridiculous!

"Besides, you look like you were born rich. God also, with this birthright, gave you the ability to ignore things you don't like or don't approve of. So why don't you use it?"

Lady Catherine de Bourgh was not used to having her opinions contradicted or challenged, nor was she used to being on the losing side of an argument. She dearly wanted to argue back as she always did, but the realization that for once in her life she could come up with little to argue with had dawned on her. She remained silent.

As Roger spoke of the hardships of the place where he lived, it wasn't to say Lady Catherine's haughty demeanour melted away and she became a changed person. Far from it. But there was something in what the young man said that made her think twice about arguing back.

"I just don't see how it's worth it to spend all that money just 'cause you have it."

"It's not as if spending money is the only thing I do," Lady Catherine said after a moment of collecting her thoughts, as if trying to defend herself or put herself in a better light while still retaining what was left of her dignity. "I happen to work for a number of charitable organizations."

She realized it sounded hollow and very much like an excuse, but she'd said it now and there was no going back.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"I happen to work for a number of charitable organizations."

And there it was. Roger knew it had to have been coming sometime. Anyone in New York who was anyone always said the same thing. The decade's 'in' thing was drug addicts. It was AIDS and it was all of the homosexuals and junkies who just needed help. It was the thing that people, rich people with thickly lined pockets opened up their wallets to and wrote out checks that they could easily not even make a chip in their bank account. It was the thing they could talk about at social galas and fancy balls, about how they helped those poor pathetic souls. Africa and all those fly-ridden babies were old news. Now, it was those people.

The problem, Roger knew, was that those people that donated money to charities or whathaveyou had never even seen those people before. Sure, they heard the horror stories, they had seen the pictures from those brave enough to venture into the belly of the beast and come back alive and unscarred. But to actually be in the presence of those people? The disease-infested people who even God didn't love anymore? Well, that would simply not do. They would help from afar, and say that they gave those people the world.

"Right." Roger said, though his voice had changed slightly. It was a bit softer, though he scoffed slightly as he shook his head. "Right. You--you go to events and get your picture taken next to big hot shots of New York, right? You get to get snapped in your thousand-dollar dresses in front of a big check with not enough zeros to even think of combatting the problem." Roger paused, and tilted his head.

"Lemme guess. You...donated money to AIDS research. Donated money to build up the broken and busted up parts of New York." Roger asked, and then nodded. "I figured you did. And you know what? If I saw any of that money, or hell, even any of the help that you so generously gave...I'd thank you."

However, Roger knew that every week that past, the closer the Clinic was getting to be completely shut down. The Clinic. He wondered how long Lady Catherine would last being in there. The TV hardly worked, the magazines were at least three months old, and even though you usually, on a good day, had someone interesting to talk to, the conversation was always peirced by a scream.

The screams still, even after all these years, made Roger stop and pause, no matter if he was in the middle of laughing or in the serious discussion about someone's life. Every single person in the waiting room would stop whatever they were doing and turn, looking towards the one door that lead back to the exam rooms.

They'd stop and they'd say a prayer. Even if they didn't believe in God, they'd pray, because no one should have to find out that they're life has been cut short. That they'd never have children. That they'd be shunned and shamed and never be the same again.

Roger was sure that the woman standing above him had never had to pick up a conversation after a scream. Never had to weed through the awkward silence, or had to peirce the ice with a joke that only got half-hearted murmurs of laughter.

"Y'ever seen a person with AIDS before?" Roger asked suddenlly, snapping from his thoughts as if being shocked.

[LADY CATHERINE DE BOURGH]

"Right. Right. You--you go to events and get your picture taken next to big hot shots of New York, right? You get to get snapped in your thousand-dollar dresses in front of a big check with not enough zeros to even think of combatting the problem."

Lady Catherine was too stunned by the fact that Roger was speaking in a somewhat softer and less aggressive tone to do anything more than nod; yes, that was exactly the sort of thing she did...

"Lemme guess. You...donated money to AIDS research. Donated money to build up the broken and busted up parts of New York. I figured you did. And you know what? If I saw any of that money, or hell, even any of the help that you so generously gave...I'd thank you."

Well. Lady Catherine's revelation certainly hadn't worked out the way she had hoped. Roger's manner of speaking was somewhat kinder, but that was all that had come of telling him about her work that was any good. Instead of making herself feel better by telling him of her good deeds, she now felt guilty, as if she hadn't done enough.

Which, when she really thought about it, she hadn't. She signed cheques, donated money, posed for pictures and went through all the motions she was expected to...and to what end? To hear that none of this had meant anything from the lips of someone at whom her work was clearly aimed...it was disheartening, to say the very least.

"Y'ever seen a person with AIDS before?"

Lady Catherine bit her lip, looked down, shook her head.

"N-no..." she admitted. "No, I haven't."

[ROGER DAVIS]

"N-No. No, I haven't."

Maybe he felt bad. But the people that walked around, pushing down the weaker people to make themselves seem stronger, maybe they needed a wake-up call. The entire world needed a wake-up call. There were thousands of Roger's and Angel's and Collins' in the world, and Roger knew that with every pressure that the upper class gave, there'd be more people like April who killed themselves when the pressure became too much.

"My ex." Roger started, watching as Lady Catherine looked down and shook her head. "My ex found out she had AIDS. 3 years ago. I mean, even three years ago, there's been an awakening, not enough as their should, but there's good medicine, but there's not enough programs. Not enough knowledge. There's not enough of that shit because once you get that...that fuckin' stigma, no one wants to touch you. No one wants to look at you." Roger felt his head shake slightly, before he looked up at her. "My girl slit her wrists in my bathtub because of that shit." Maybe it wasn't because of people like Lady Catherine who used the charities and disease as a nice photo op, but he knew that it had assisted in April's suicide. Though, he wasn't going to tell Lady Catherine that. He didn't feel like being completely vicious at the moment anymore.

"Left me with something to remember her by." Roger said finally, looking up at her. "I'm not going to say that I'm innocent. My girl and I were heroin junkies. We had sex without condoms all the time. We're not innocent. But we're also not something to pass over or ignore." he paused, and then lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "I'm not looking for your pity. I'm just--I want you to think about that the next time you're getting your picture taken. That the people next to you...there the same people that say that we deserved it just because we made a choice, whether it be the way we chose to make our nights more interesting or who we decide to love. But we didn't deserve this. Even if we made bad choices."

[LADY CATHERINE DE BOURGH]

As Roger explained what the disease had driven his ex girlfriend to, Lady Catherine didn't raise her head to look at him. How could she? Instead she kept her head bowed, as if she were weighed down with shame for thinking she acted so well and did so much to help when in reality she'd done next to nothing.

She wasn't entirely sure yet how she felt about this whole scenario. Guilt and shame weren't emotions she was used to; the last time she'd felt guilty about anything was when she'd been about ten years old, and that had been over something as trivial as a new dress. And the matter she and Roger were discussing was certainly not of a trivial nature.

"I'm not going to say that I'm innocent. My girl and I were heroin junkies. We had sex without condoms all the time. We're not innocent. But we're also not something to pass over or ignore."

Her Ladyship, as might be expected, was one of those people who only saw what she wanted to see and therefore had a restricted view of the world. Roger's revelations were therefore shocking to her; it were as if she was admitting to herself that these things were true, that they weren't just on TV or invented to be read about in magazines...these were real situations, real people.

They were not something to be passed over and ignored. Why had she not seen that?

Yet despite the fact Roger was helping her open her eyes, at least a little, to his plight and that of countless others, there was still a part of Lady Catherine that urged her to curtail the conversation and continue on to the Prada sale, push the meeting out of her mind and continue as she always had done.

She wouldn't be Lady Catherine if that part of her wasn't there.

"I'm not looking for your pity. I'm just--I want you to think about that the next time you're getting your picture taken. That the people next to you...there the same people that say that we deserved it just because we made a choice, whether it be the way we chose to make our nights more interesting or who we decide to love. But we didn't deserve this. Even if we made bad choices."

Lady Catherine shook her head. Now that all this pain had been laid bare before her, she knew they didn't deserve it. And Roger insisted he didn't want it, yet Lady Catherine couldn't help but pity him.

"I know you said you don't want my pity," Lady Catherine said at last, in a somewhat broken voice as if all her arrogance and anger had been drained from her. "But...after the way I've treated people like you...when I think about how I've acted..."

As she said this she began fumbling in her bag. Eventually finding her wallet she hurriedly peeled off a hundred dollar note from the wad of bills tightly crammed inside it...then another two for good measure.

This done she refastened the bag and offered the money to Roger, praying he wouldn't take her gesture the wrong way.

"The least I can do," was all she said, with an attempt at a smile. She wasn't going to go to the Prada sale today after all.

[ROGER DAVIS]

She started to speak, and Roger tilted his head from where he sat on the floor, watching as she fumbled in her very large purse. She pulled out three bills, and Roger could easily see that it was three hundreds. As she extended them to him, Roger felt his eyebrow arch.

Roger paused, watching her hand and then looking at her face. "Look." Roger started, looking at her seriously. "Y'wanna go for a walk? I wanna show you something." He asked, watching her seriously. "I promise, I'm not going to steal your money or abduct you or anything. I just wanna show you where your money really should be going."

To the entrence of Alphabet City wasn't as bad as only a few streets in, where you saw the big giant tent city that had been put up. Maybe this would show her. Maybe this was what she needed. Roger wasn't a saint, nor was he a prophet, but he did want change. He agreed with Maureen's protests, agreed that there needed to be change.

"It'll be a ten minute walk if that, and then you can go back to your life."