September 23, 2003.09.23.03. - wake up call [imogen][sometime.someplace.
right in the middle of Damon's damned storyline which has NO concept of time connected to the rest of us....](imogen)
It's nine am, and it's hot and damp as she leans her elbows against the cheap stone balcony of the motel, tapping the plastic of the small cell phone against the edge, thoughtfully, her head turned away from the interior, whether there was activity or not.The door had been slid shut purposefully, and now there would be a moment perhaps of her own silence and solitude. She exhales into the early morning, and ends her solitude of her own accord as she dials the cell phone number. Lord knows how she has a memory for this, having heard Rune's cell phone number once, and able to call it later in a time of emergency, and now, to pull James's number from the recesses of her memory to dial.
It rings. Until he picks it up. Or, it rings until a voice mail picks up, and she hangs up and redials.
"Mornin'." She says drily, and there is very few with such a memorable voice as hers, low and soft, with that particular accent. "Did I wake you?"
Amusement perhaps. It is, after all, nine am, so Dr. Imogen Slaughter has likely been up for hours, if she'd gone to bed at all, and was now at work.
Which certainly makes the phone call an oddity, not that it wouldn't be at any other time. Imogen is not particularly the 'reach out and touch somebody' kind of person. She calls when it's necessary, and does not go beyond that. It's a miracle she keeps even casual acquaintences.
(james)
it's 9 a.m.
while most of the world has already begun it's daily trials and tribulations
and should, by all means, already be at, if not close to arriving at, work
the members of the Eagle pack enjoy no such semblance of a schedule
or at least any semblance of normalcy in the schedule they keep
it's 9 a.m. for the majority of the world - translating to about 3a.m. equivalent for the Gnawersomewhere, beneath the tangle of sheets only beginning to move as if the ocean affected by a deep underground earthquake, is an Ahroun
at some point after the sun had risen
he'd finished what it was he was working on
and simply collapsed into the bed
sleep came within moments: a warrior's sleep, instant and deep cause Gaia knows when he'll sleep again
within a few hours, he'd have drug himself back into the world of the living
looking probably no worse for wear
hard to get "bed head" out of dreads, anyway"Nev'r!" mumbled proclamation into the phone.... after a voice mail and the incurrent rings it took him to figure out how to open the damned thing so early in the day (it fought back!) and the pause to double check the number showing up on the blurry screen (yes, it is Imogen)..... on a rogue, if groggy, grin "Alway wait f'r yer call in the mornin'."
probably because nobody else would call anyone in the pack this early
which makes him realize that it's not a random chat that brings the good Doctor the role of the alarm clock
sheets pull and slide and whisper discontently in the background as he coordinates to sit up
fingers scratch through heavy dreads to help prod his mind towards conscious"S'goin' on?"
(imogen)
Want an admission? It's nice to have a familiar voice, and a fairly decent (if groggy) banter of someone she's known for more than two days. She grins briefly."S'an exchange fer all the times I've 'ad one o' yeh blokes knockin' on my door at all hours." Decker, normally, but James, too, once, maybe twice.
The grin was, as mentioned, brief and it fades, her hand tugging through her hair, snarling amongst the curls where they were still trapped by an elastic. "Question f'r you."
Pause, consideration, and she's framing her words. "If yeh needed t'get int' a buildin' wit' heavy security... int' the ventilation shafts, wit'out bein' seen, mind..." A pause. The pauses are mostly caution. Police officers would never speak of things such as a case over the phone, but her choices are small. She doubts anyone in the condo could find the home phone if it rang (even if he was there, and provided she could remember it), and her options were a cell phone or a motel phone.
Right. Cell phone. "... would yeh be able to?" she completes the question.
(james)
her smile is breif
he can't see it, and probably wouldn't ever imagine it to be there
though there's a flavoring of warmth in the tease that could give it away if he were awake enough to catch it
his reactive laughter, however soft and slippery and sleepy it is, takes much less to ascertain
she's not the only one glad for a moment's reprieveQuestion f'r you.
Oooh.
means he may have time for a shower before jumping into the truck to dash off to go fight crime
there's a Modi-esque grunt which signals her to continue
just to say he's still paying attention
in the background, there's a blind slap of hand to a bedside table to search for a pack and lighter
no smoking in the condo - he must be at the warehouse
glad she tried the cell"Depen' on details..... but more'n likely."
(imogen)
A brief sound low in her throat, which is not laughter, stripped of amusement. "Well, I'm rather missing on the details at the moment, but why don't I give you a ring when I have 'em. Prob'ly sometime tomorrow."(james)
why... does the sound that's breif in his own throat.... not make him sound surprised?
he, however, does bear a small degree of amusement
if she already had them it would be easy
convenient, even
and that's just not the way they fight crime"Keep me pos'ed." normally smooth (if slurred) tones still gravelly from sleep "I'll fig're sum'thin' out."
that's what Bone Gnawers do isn't it?
work with meager resources and from the background?(imogen)
A sound that indicates she's heard him. It would be almost considered a grunt like the packs, except even in wordlessness, Imogen has the ability to be eloquent. Mostly in wordlessness, in fact."Yeah." she'll keep him posted, or he'll figure something out, or just a place holder. "Sleep well."
(james)
"Will 'ntil t'morra' 'less yeh keep callin' me."most would think that phrasing would be rather caustic
a blunt-force trauma meant to get someone to back the fuck off
though, given her eloquence in (flesh flaying) silence and his showmanship
that works just as well as any concerned warning or dramatic demand that she will call him tomorrow because what the hell is this all about anyway cause something sure doesn't smell right and it's not me....cause, well, there's really only so much he can do right now
regardless of any skills he may have in sneakiness and tunnel navigation
the Ahroun realizes the ball's in her court no matter how much Garou are supposed to protect kin
there's a pause before the cell clips off
the closest he'll venture towards showing he cares (again)
the closest she'll acknowledge of his saying to be carefulDr. Slaughter never calls unless it's of the utmost necessity
(imogen)
A soft scoff, her only response, as she clicks off herself, and turns to dial first her half-sister, and then her work.Then back inside to whatever it was she'd gotten herself into.
Posted by james at September 23, 2003 12:00 AM
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