Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Phone call from Ingvar.*
Aerin Thomas: ((To? *G*))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *eh, sorry.. Aerin! His nemesis/onlyfriend!*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((and thusly doth I grab coffee))
Aerin Thomas: *Click* "Hey." Tired boy, once again, from the sounds of it.
Aerin Thomas: ((Okie. :) ))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Elet gyadya urgahz... az ember.. *trails off. The quietly boiling
power of the voice slows, and is stilled.. before continuing in thick english.*
Excuse. Meeester Taomas? *Tao- mash?*
Aerin Thomas: ((It's Ingvar's voice?))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((yep))
Aerin Thomas: A brief pause, before. "Ingvar?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: egan. You are very busy?
Aerin Thomas: "No, not particularly. What's up? Are you all right?"
Aerin Thomas: Wary concern in the man's voice.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: mm? mm.... m. *At times its amazing, the meaning that voice can
channel into the same sound, rumbled in different ways... "huh? weeelllll....
no." admitted to without so much as a slip in his dauntless class.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: I have a question. Eet ees about switzerland.
Aerin Thomas: "Okay. Fire away."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Yoi. *he clears his throat, static erupting through the line
briefly.* Consider... a small space, everyone... knowz every ozer. All comrades,
as pigs in the far east would say. Little space, vast and varied resources.
~but~... still a deficiet is experienced by its agents in the field. Interpol,
as it were, yes?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Even... such as anonymity.. the question of what exact manner of
agent one faces... even this gives little advantage once adequate familiarity is
gained by those Switzerland polices, yes?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Oh gods... is he rambling? Considering Ingvar's apparent love of
the spoken word.... this could take a while. Aerin hears the sound of liquid
being poured in the background*
Aerin Thomas: "I suppose so, yes." He nods. "Ingvar...I'm not quite sure what you're
getting at here." Maybe he's just too wierded out by the whole situation.
"...are you drunk, Ingvar?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: What does that have to do with anything? *Mild offense.. it seems
the dour Judge is willing to forgive Aerin though, he continues.* Well... yes.
But my point remains the same. You recieve no help. No assistance.... pfah. We
should speak in person. *Irritation, as though Aerin had called ~him~.*
Aerin Thomas: "I very much agree." A truer statement was never heard. "Where are you?
I'll be there in a few."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Sivi-.... *an irritated shout in hard core new york style seems to
be the response to whatever the hungarian just did.* NEM! *Silence...* Sivi-
what is intersection? Keleg vhort! Anayaz estbet es! Which? *Shouting in the
background as Ingvar mutters a foul curse.* Houston? I believe they mean
Houston- as in the city.. the one in Texas. Houston and 137th street. Downtown.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((Make first "Houston" pronounced "House- ton"))
Aerin Thomas: "All right." He pauses. "Where? In what spot on that intersection? Bar,
in a car...what?" The way this is going, it could be anything...he wouldn't
doubt if the man was in the middle of the intersection, but for the lack of
screeching.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Muttered growling in Magyarol... funny.. the literal translations
are always poetic to the point of verbal beauty used for the simplest phrases...
but he can make it sound scalp-crawlingly foul...* With the questions! Is...
here.. Michaelangelo's bar. I think I am in Little Italy... I will go in- look
at the ceiling, yes?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ....bring guns. I have but the one. We may need two. No. Three. It
will be best that way.
Aerin Thomas: "I have one gun and a shotgun, and I'm not bringing a shotgun into the
bar...wait. I have a...tranq gun." Said with disdain...he HATES that Rhino tranq.
"But it's for special occasions."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((It is best that way.))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ....That one, leave at home. I will gnaw off your face. Do you
understand me, hippie? Gnaw. Off. Your. Face.
Aerin Thomas: "You wish." He'd be amused, if he wasn't so wierded out. "It's staying at
home. You're right near me...I'll be there in 10."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: OH! *Elation.. in the fashion of east europeans, more emphasis
placed on the convienience of a fellow's drive than the more raw wish for the
company.* I will wait here.
Aerin Thomas: "On my way." *Click* And, true to his word, about 10 minutes later he
pulls his car up to the bar. The man is dressed as normal, maybe a bit
twitchier, a bit more paranoid even then usual. He looks around as he makes his
way out of the car, and toward the bar. Per+Alert: d10: : 8,5,8,1,8,3,
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((per+emp- diff 7 8,9,3,2,3,))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *And there he is. The young Magyar yet a forboding figure on the
side walk of little Italy. Yes... one of the last places in the world such a mob
figure should ever be- though his shadowy, sculpted form suits the dark street
well. He looks around, noticing Aerins own twitchyness... then looks back to the
other man with a canted eyebrow.* What is?
Aerin Thomas: He walks up to the man, his head cocking to the side at the question.
"What is what?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Your rendition of the "Who Can it Be Now" video? We had this MTV....
*He nods, accomplished.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Someone pursues you? *Stark features slice the dark, the upper
planes of his face a likely perch for the hard shine of the streetlights as he
looks around again.*
Aerin Thomas: "Usually," he says with a nod. "I have problems with dead people,
remember?" He looks the man over, frowning some. ((Per+Emp: d10: :
1,8,9,5,9,2,3,))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((drunk, distraught. Bitter. Emotional pain he deals with no better
than a dog with stitches on a rear leg- gnaw it off- because its bothersome.))
Aerin Thomas: "So what's going on?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Pale eyes shine wickedly as he slings an arm around Aerin, and
begins to walk down the street. The bottle sloshes as he offers it.* First, we
walk. An associate of mine is inside... very bad for him to see me under the
influence, yes?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Bootheels click against the pavement.*
Aerin Thomas: "Understood." He nods, and gestures toward the waiting street. When
Ingvar starts to move, Aerin falls into step beside him, reaching into his
trench coat for a cigarette.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Really- *swig* you must notice... The Treaty.. *his voice remains
discreetly low, a boil of thunder that does not go past Aerin's ears.* Directed
by, manned, largely by, willworkers.
Aerin Thomas: He frowns a little bit, watching the Lord as they walk. A hand raises,
smoke is drawn in, then exhaled. "Directed by? Yes. Manned? No. There's one
involved with the Treaty, Ingvar. Jody, and Jody alone. No other handwavers
there."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Ms. Morgan? *He cants an eyebrow, directing his gaze toward Aerin.
Oddly enough, the assertation seems not to have derailed whatever point he's
moving toward.*
Aerin Thomas: "Not part of the Treaty. She's a member of a treaty-affiliatied party...a
group of them who are bound by the Treaty, like the Sept is, or anyone else.."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: mm... I seem to recall... that all who agreed to this... are dead,
Aerin...
Aerin Thomas: He pauses, looking at him. "Miranda. Shakey. They were both there. Is the
Sept looking to back out of the Treaty?" Watch that tension bolt into his frame.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: How hard a nudge do you think Gavin will need, given the breech of
last week? *That wicked, stony gleam remains in his eyes.. masked as they move
through patches of darkness.. but ready and chill as flourescent bathes them
again.* This is not something I know, exactly. However- this is my point- These
handwavers know about the park. But can you tell me of ~one~ gathering place
which is theirs?
Aerin Thomas: "Ingvar...most people deliver their point, then their support for it."
His jaw clenches a little bit. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *A snap as they walk.. teeth flash briefly as the force of his anger
expresses itself in hard talk, but wavering point.* It was a relatively simple
question, Aerin. Do you know of one, or not?
Aerin Thomas: He grits his teeth. "No. Then again, they didn't choose national
landmarks and tourist attractions as their gathering places."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: The park was there long before the tourists- or the country, as I
recall.. However- that is far too widely known a fact to bother arguing. *He
glares flatly at the man beside him.* Once, it was sacred. We let it be taken by
fools. We let known rapists of our sacred sites to have their way. We ~let~
them, these willworkers, rule everything in this city- and gladly bind ourselves
to their service. This Treaty is spoken of with more reverence than the Mother
herself.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: You enforce their will- but do they give you anything to assist in
this? Or even, let you know where to turn should you be in need of their
assistance? Or do they simply watch, and take?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Powerful hands curl as they walk, as the Judge gives vent to
whatever festers inside him... the glass of the bottle creaks in one hand as it
clenches, violently, around it.*
Aerin Thomas: "Ingvar...what are you trying to do here?" He stares at the man, teeth
grinding a moment, jaw pulsing. The look in his eyes is an almost slow burn of
rising bitterness...anger. His eyes narrow at the Lord...for just a second, the
man seems hauntingly familiar, like a memory recently dead, but not forgotten.
Not forgotten at all.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The shine in pale eyes seems almost to beckon... to invite that
eerie malice he sees in Aerin.. the Judge seems more than glad to see it...
almost as though fed by such things as this.. Silence reigns between them for a
moment as Ingvar seems almost to drink in the sight of his face.. strengthened
by it.* I am trying to understand just how thurough their hold over this city
is.. you know, that their sort has been seen- and even caught, traipsing around
the Umbra... in the reflection of the Bawn itself? Of course... we're forbidden
to stop them... and their violation of our sacred places is a matter of record.
What exactly does the Treaty serve? Your woman runs from her enemies, our hands
tied against assisting en masse.. Willworkers lurk in their manses, hidden from
us as they scout the park... precisely how much self sacrifice is required
before whatever demons you carry cease their hounding... and your own desires
finally ~matter~?
Aerin Thomas: "Point of clarification...we are NOT forbidden to stop them. Central Park
is Garou territory, Ingvar. Christ, man, why would we post fucking Warders
around if they couldn't DO anything? Within Central Park, we can defend our
secrets. A willworker entering the Bawn and Umbra in the Park is tantamount to
an attack on the fucking Sept. Don't tell me there's no one on that fucking joke
of a Council of Elders who can't read between the Goddess-damned lines."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: You befuddle a simple point. I think it is because you have no
answers. *He tilts the bottle back.* They let it go. Like they always do.
Simpering, pathetic wastes of flesh... Perhaps stopping these devils requires
more personal a touch than they can summon! *He waves the bottle as they walk, a
strange smile lighting his face.*
Aerin Thomas: "Why are you drunk?" He's stopped moving, and is watching Ingvar closely
now. "What happened?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ~MORE~ foolishness! *It seems to light a fire under him. Anger, a
hard wave crashing against discipline that seems to crumble.. it lends force and
an unsteady violence to his movements.* Only this time, believe it or not, my
own. I too am mired in the wiles of these... things.
Aerin Thomas: Light dawns. He cocks his head slightly to the side, watching him.
"Abbey."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: And only her, I hope. Though I suspect otherwise. *He glances at the
man as he drinks again.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: I have arrived at a solution to my own troubles. However- the sept
at large has muck to shuck from itself if it is to survive this generation.
Aerin Thomas: "And what is your solution, Ingvar?" He says it calmly, watching the
Shadow Lord. Eyes boring straight into the Judge's...unflinching. "And how do
you think it would work for the Sept as a whole?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: She wants a prenuptual agreement. *He deposits the empty bottle in a
trashcan, a deprecating chuckle burns through him.* Everything I have done to
demonstrate... bah. Nevermind. *He shakes his head.* For the sept, a divorce, of
sorts. An amicable, and open agreement that as the handwavers will keep their
secrets, so too will they respect our own. It is time for a simpler approach to
life in the Big Apple, Aerin- namely, the park ~actually~ being ours- and
forbidden absolutely from any other faction.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ....under pain of violent, and unforgettable, retribution.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ...perhaps we will learn to respect ourselves again. *The words
almost ghostly.. a hollow torment fueling them.*
Aerin Thomas: "A prenup?" He raises an eyebrow, slowly. "All this is over a simple
prenup?" He shakes his head, amazed. "Ingvar...you cannot possibly thing that
the Sept can expect that the whole of Central Park will be declared off-limits
to everyone else. It won't happen. End of story. Thing about reality." He looks
back at him when that last bit is said. "Who's respect are you trying to regain?
The Nation's for itself, or you for yourself?" Yes, he's that blunt about it.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: I have been pouring over this for weeks- but you think you have it
solved in a matter of moments. Moron. You seem quite certain. Very well- which
part of this agreement violates the litany? Name the section. *The words are
spat in grating tones into Aerin's face.* We are through speaking about that.
You will only make me kill you. I should have not mentioned. As to the Sept...
why not?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: The question is not rhetorical. Seriously. *A slight stagger.* We do
not congregate with willworkers or leeches. Yet both may enter the park. Explain
why we do not deserve what is ours.
Aerin Thomas: "Explain how a leech enters the park. Seriously. If they are, then the
Waders aren't doing their fucking jobs. They should have Spirits watching for
people's reflections. Frankly, our lack of Security is our own fault, not
theirs. As to willworkers...let's go over the number of times that willworkers
have worked with us to accomplish great things." He raises an eyebrow. "Hmmm?
How about helping as much as we would let them to deal with Schondorf. How about
the bane mummy. Saving Karlos and Arlett." His eyes on the man are, again,
unwavering. "Don't take your anger over Abbey and transfer it to the entire
group of them. If you want to talk Litany? Sure, let's talk Litany." A hand goes
up, perhaps frightening in it's speed...yet, no violence ensues. Fingers start
to rise as he ticks off the points. "Respect All Beneath Ye...ALL are of Gaia.
That includes all humans...willworkers included. Combat the Wyrm, Wherever it
Breeds and Whenever it Breeds. And if we have to invlude them, so fucking be it.
Respect the Territory of Another...if they aren't, we deal with the ones that
aren't. But you don't go after them all for the actions of a few. And lastly,
Ingvar...LASTLY. Do Not Suffer thy People to Tend Thy Sickness." He lets that
one sink in a moment.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He stops walking, turning slowly to face Aerin.* What, precisely...
are you insinuating....
Aerin Thomas: "I'm insinuating nothing. I already flat-out stated it." He watches the
man calmly. "Anger is a sickness, taken too far. Shall I detail the Thrall of
the Wyrm as an extreme example? You're taking your anger and expecting the Sept
to perform sudden, drastic actions because you've personally been hurt by a
willworker. I'll happily do what I can to help you, on a personal level. But
just because you were burned by a willworker doesn't mean that the entire Sept
has to get angry with you. Hell, I know that better then anyone. My mate is
threatened after gaining the Goddess's redemption, and not only is the Sept not
angry with me, they've flat-out stated that if Ita ever becomes known to them,
they will kill her. But you don't see me making blanket declarations. Maybe it's
because I'm using to being shat on by Septs." His jaw pulses again, the anger
starting to smolder. "Isolation has it's lessons, it would appear."
Aerin Thomas: ((angry along with me))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He snorts twin blasts of steam into the air.* Hide under your
blanket, Child of Gaia. I am not afraid to question. Or to look at facts plainly
before me. hmph! *He looks around.* This is my stop.
Aerin Thomas: "The facts you need aren't before you. They're a little closer then
that."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *A laugh ripples from him as he claps Aerin on the shoulder.* You
~are~ under the half moon! Able to say something even with nothing to say!
Aerin Thomas: A twisted little smirk comes to his face. "I always have. I remember a
certain questioning in my old apartment, about why I was leaving the Body, and
how to kill a lobster spirit." He still has a bit of pride about that, it seems,
because it just flashed it's way into the line of his jaw. "But there is
something there. And for the facts before you...picking and choosing which facts
you'll decide on isn't being unafraid to question. You're just too afraid to
hope."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The laugh deepens.* There is no fear, Aerin. Only resignation. Fear
I have met, and passed long ago. No small feat.. for a while, I thought I would
not be able. Perhaps in that I find some measure of victory. This... this is
simply resignation. *he shakes his head.* It is not the agreement that is the
true problem. Only what it represents in light of so much effort. If she dies,
Aerin... *solemn. Perhaps under the ice, even sad.* I am the first suspect. It
seems... even a Shadow Lord... when I want to be merely a husband. *He nods to
Aerin- the moment of weakness stripped from his cold face as he moves down the
street.* Good evening, sir.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He walks away, but does not look at him again.* And that episode
impressed me! *It is tossed in thick english over one shoulder.* Well done, all
things considered.
Aerin Thomas: "Ingvar..." He purses his lips. He knows resignation well. "Wait." He
starts to follow, picking up the pace. He's not letting this one go. The man can
try and shoot him if he likes, but he's not giving it up. He cared enough to
threaten the man's life once, after all.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: You have insulted me, offered to end my life, laughed at what I had
to say, once. But if you ruin- *He spins around* ONE more dramatic exit.... so
help me, Aerin...
Aerin Thomas: "What is it you want?" He stops there, maintaining his stance. Resolute.
"What do you want? Ignore all the buts. Don't tell me 'I want this, but...' The
only thing I want to hear from you is what...you...want." His tone, his gaze,
his stance. He's almost challenging the man.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He doesn't even hesitate.. perhaps beginning to get irritated for
real... it presses through drunk.* A straight line again. From point A, through
B, to C. I know how to get it, I begin pursuing it tomorrow. I've decided, Mr.
Thomas- there is nothing for you to fix here. Do you understand?
Aerin Thomas: His eyes narrow, perhaps dangerously. "Pretend I don't. I am a blind,
cowardly, moronic Child of Gaia, Ingvar. Sometimes, your big talky words
confoozle me. Spell it out for me, why don't you?" Fingers twitch, flex even.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Pale eyes flare as the engine within roars in silent resolve- rage
burning through the young Judge- casting aside the blur of alcohol in a
moment... clarity sets in with murderous efficiency. It bubbles behind his face-
but he remains in control.* Is that an order, Mr. Thomas?
Aerin Thomas: He almost smiles. He's almost inviting it. He smirks, wondering if the
fact that he's challenging for Adren has made it's way down here. Certainly,
that must gall the man a little...that the outcast, the man who was nearly Ronin
is nearing such a rank, and first. "Yes," is all he says.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((Bum bum bum
buuuuuuum....))
Aerin Thomas:
d10: Initiative plus : 6,
Aerin Thomas: ((Gaah, I hate forgetting
to type out numbers as letters in the die roller. Going on 12))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((Die roll is init-
spending 2 rage.))
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: : 2,
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((8))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((rage roll for
posterity.))
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: : 10,4,1,5,
Aerin Thomas: ((Oh, yeah, Rage. Spending
One.))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((whew))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The young man's pale
eyes are glass pools as he rips the gun from its holster, squeezing off a burst
as he moves to close the distance.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((Gun is silenced, btw-
see char. sheet.))
Aerin Thomas: He throws himself to the
side...he seems almost surprised. Delightedly so, as he seeks to avoid the
bullet, pulling his own Glock out.
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: shooting+wp: 8,8,9,5,6,6,
Aerin Thomas:
d10: Dex+Dodge (WP): 3,5,5,8,4,
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: additional bullets: 6,3,6,
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: damage: 5,7,3,9,7,8,9,9,
Aerin Thomas: Ingvar's three round burst
fires off in a triple hiss, metal streaking through the air and slamming into
Aerin's body, as he doesn't dodge quite well enough. The bullets tear through
his body, ripping him up. ((6 Lethal))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *An infinite, deadly
chill fills the form of the young Magyar. The half- lidded gaze of a striking
snake as he continues to move toward Aerin..*
Aerin Thomas: ((Rage action lost, as Aerin
took more levels of damage then he has Stamina+2)) He falls to the ground,
coughing up blood, surprised. Well, that certainly didn't work out quite like
expected. The thought comes in the back of his mind.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *His attention
flickers up and down the nearly deserted street.. the gun stowed with the smooth
flick of one wrist.. he does pause however, to shoot a cuff, adjusting it
precisely before coming to stand next to Aerin. One gloved hand slips through
the man's hair as the Judge and Enforcer become twin blurs- passing into an
alley in a focused burst of rage driven force.. certainly, some of the man's
hair comes away in his hand, but they are at least out of sight.* ((Using
remaining actions to move them into an alley.)) Now that we are somewhere more
private... *a knife snicks out of his overcoat.* You were saying....?
Aerin Thomas: He looks up at Ingvar,
looking at that knife. He's been closer to death then this. A few days ago,
even. Still...as much pain as there is, as much blood as there is, staining the
ground red around them. Staining the man's clothes, lips, and face. There is no
fear in his face. He looks up at Ingvar, attempting to speak, but he really
can't at the moment. He merely tries to roll to face down, and push against the
ground, to stand. Hopefully, the display will throw the man off guard, let him
act. ((WP to ignore wound penalties. Luna's Armor Activating))
Aerin Thomas:
d10: Lunas Armor: 1,9,3,4,
Aerin Thomas: ((*Thuds*))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He furrows his brow
slightly... watching the man's earnest display of heart. Moving, of course...
but largely moot, thinks the Judge. Let alone doing nothing for his wounds. One
slender finger strokes against his jaw as he considers, then acts. Unconscious,
at least Mr. Thomas will not be such a spectacle. Thus, it is with his friend's
best interests at heart that he drives one boot into Aerin's ribs with merciless
force.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: krav mangen: 3,6,5,10,6,5,10,
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Do be still, Mr.
Thomas... *Mild, rumbling tone as precision takes the place of cold anger.. just
enough to put him out, with luck.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: : 9,6,
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: damage: 3,5,7,4,4,9,3,7,
Aerin Thomas:
d10: Soak: 2,9,
Aerin Thomas: The kick strikes home, and
that knocks the man out cold, without even time to cry out in pain.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *A satisfied nod...
there. Much more becoming to have fallen unconscious... pale eyes sweep the
alley.. the rooftop.. he settles next to Aerin's comatose body, the knife a
sliver of moonlight for a moment as the Judge's powerful hand dances it through
the shadows to rest, point down, balanced by his palm, against Aerin's neck.
With the air of a gentleman, he extracts his cell phone to make a call. They
will need transportation.. clothing.. he can't very well wear yesterday's Gucci
until morning, after all...*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((ftb?))
Aerin Thomas: ((Sure. *Nods* Thanks for
the scene!))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((You too man! Methinks
Joe still doesn't have a chance if he gets saucy!))
Aerin Thomas: ((*G* Awww, Joe's the man,
though!))
Ingvar Urgahaldt: wheeeere does Aerin wake up? Why, one room over from Ingvar!
Wounds tended to, etc. When he wakes up, there is a young hungarian male in the
living room of the small apartment. He doesn't appear to be kin, and doesn't
seem to have any idea regarding what went on. He treats Aerin distantly but
respectfully, and lets him know that Mr. Urgahaldt said he was to give Aerin a
ride wherever he wanted to go.
Aerin Thomas: Question: Is Aerin's car left there at the scene?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: eh, likely. Unless Ingvar knows its his.
Aerin Thomas: He was on the street when Aerin got out of it. :)
Ingvar Urgahaldt: oh yeah! No- his car is at a nearby parking garage. So he offers
Aerin a lift. Calls him "sir" etc. He sort of gives Aerin the eye, as though he
suspected he were some big shot.
Aerin Thomas: He thanks the young man, and has him drive him to the parking garage,
then heads toward home. And, if you still have a little time, calls Ingvar on
the way.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Teshiek?
Aerin Thomas: "Nicely done."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: I try. You will recieve the proper medical attention?
Aerin Thomas: "I'll be fine." Cough, cough. Then the inhale of a cigarette drag. Sounds
of car movement around the Gaian. "This isn't over. I'm not giving up on you."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Perhaps he considers this.* She is not going to be harmed.
Aerin Thomas: "Let me ask you a question. Why do you think that she's doing this?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: The answer to that is both simple and inconsequential, Mr. Thomas.
Because she does not trust me.
Aerin Thomas: "Trust is never simple, and it's never inconsequential. You know that."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: I have done more than enough to earn it. I know that also. She will
have her contract- and we will get on with our lives. Mister Thomas. There are
more important matters for you to attend to. *His voice is flat, and distant.
All business.*
Aerin Thomas: "I'm not saying you're at fault, Ingvar. I'm saying..." He stops himself.
And sighs. "This isn't over. Any news on Gavin's friend, Sebastian?"
Ingvar Urgahaldt: I am still working on this... give me until this evening to get back
to you.
Aerin Thomas: "No problem. We've all been busy." He sighs. "I'll talk to you tonight,
then."
Ingvar Urgahaldt: Good afternoon. *The phone drifts, then hangs up.*