Participants:
| Scene Title | Call Me Brad |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Devon finally reaches Russo by phone and checks in with his boss. |
| Date | February 3, 2011 |
Dorchester Towers: Russo's Apartment and Somewhere Inside The Dome
The haze of the last week and a bit is beginning to clear. The Refrain, liquor, and cigarettes were just a coping mechanism for a much larger problem. After Russo had hung up on him, his sponsor had called again. And again. And again. And finally Brad went to a meeting. It had been… a meeting. He'd refused to talk. This was normal practice. In many ways, however, having gone had exactly the anticipated effect, he hadn't used for a few days. TRIUMPH. For now, anyways.
He sits at his desk completing research before a single hand runs over his now-bearded face— nearly relieved that it grants him some measure of disguise; some measure of withdrawal, even if his is a fairly recognizable one to the general public.
You're gonna be a shinin' star~
It's his cellphone. Ringing. He smirks, having a distinct detest of ringtones, he ponders who got ahold of his phone, yet he actually likes this song so he lets it play a little more..
In fancy clothes and fancy cars~ And then you'll see you're gonna go far Cause everyone knows who you are~
At this particular riff, Russo glances at the number calling him, drawing a very distinct furrow of his brows. He clicks the button the blackberry and brings it to his ear, "Hey… Sport where you been?" He ponders making a joke, but sees better to play it safe because of recent events— manifesting doesn't exactly warrant a sense of humour at all times.
Somewhere on Roosevelt Island, somewhere within the Dome yet not at his aunt's apartment, Devon's found a measure of quiet and privacy. It's been crazy the last couple of days, with tending to the hurt and trying to make sense of what's happened, unravel the mystery of the Dome and survive. He's tried making this call a number of times, this and one to his aunt. And until now nothing has gone through.
Damnable bubble.
For a stunned moment, hearing the voice on the other end, Devon doesn't reply. He was surprised by the ringing, but to actually get someone on the other end was even less expected. Especially after all the strange turn of events around the studio and the tv host. When the teenager does speak, his voice is weary, lacking it's usual humor and life. "..Tried calling sooner but… Sir, have you seen the news?"
There's an ironic pull of Russo's lips at the question. Has he seen the news? He watches the news at every corner pretending he's not. He pays attention to every television he passes on street corners, every radio he hears on his way in, and essentially keeps his attention on it at all times. But he doesn't share these things. The sad obsessive nature of his life isn't under the microscope here, nor does he want it to be.
There's a distinct pause as he rolls the question over his thoughts letting it supersaturate before clucking his tongue. "I have," is the tight response. Two words— not as good-humoured as he may have intended.
Concern is something he tries to conceal, particularly around those he works with (with the exception of Kristen, but then, she knew him before he had to build walls), but the lowness in his voice contains a measure of reservation if not direct concern, "Are you alright?"
The pause that follows is broken by static, the signal threatening to cut out. Steps undertone the annoying crackle, like the crunch of hard rubber against concrete and rock. "Yeah," Devon answers simply, voice cutting through clearly though tightening to contain his own fears.
"I um…" Devon's voice breaks by another spell of poor signal, something he suffers through silently until the line's cleared. "…I'm inside the Dome. I don't know when we'll be out." Or if, the teenager's tone wavers giving that implication.
There's a steady quiet on the other end of the phone, even with the crackle of static, a careful weighing of the information given and the words spoken. Russo nods, not that Devon can see it, he's nodding. Disaster seems to befall the city at every turn. His lips press together into a frown. He can't describe what he's thinking but he is thinking. Considering.
Finally he asks, "Are you with people?" What else is there to say? "You're not hurt, are you?" The concern of his voice leeches in, despite his best efforts to minimize it. He always tries to minimize it, particularly with employees. "We know next to nothing— " probably about the same as those inside the Dome.
"There's people here." Devon's answer comes readily enough, though he's not sure about most of them. He goes quiet briefly, though movement like walking can still be heard through the receiver. "I'm not hurt, but there's injured here. We got the Suresh Center but… There's no power, they're on emergency generators…"
The teenager's phone cuts out again, his voice garbling with his last answer. "We don't know anything either, except it …it goes underground, too."
Russo leans back in his chair, a nearly defeatist motion while his head nods again. His jaw tightens and his breath comes out as a sigh. "There's no way out," he concludes as he swallows hard. "Kid— " he pauses and clears his throat, and his tone becomees serious rather than concerned, "Devon. You need to find somewhere with resources. Things could get very ugly." It's like a sick social experiment, twisted. "Do you have running water? Or access to food? Shelter?? Are ou staying at the Suresh Centre?"
Devon squeezes his eyes shut, forehead coming to rest against the side of a building, as words are given to a deeper fear. There's no way out. "I live here, with my aunt…" His voice breaks again, this time followed by a rough clearing of his throat. "She's not here. We have food though… and all that. —Some of us are trying to map the place out, too. Find some answers." Hopefully.
The words she's not here actually cause Russo's jaw to clench as he give sanother slow nod. "Alright." His fingers run over his beard, stroking it silently as he stays in silent contemplation. "Good. Make sure you have a good stock. Honestly— " the cynic in Brad can see this getting ugly inside. How far can a few resources go for people completely trapped on an island. He never finishes this thought though. No reason to be alarmist yet, it's only been a few days, "I will try to see what I can find out on my end. Maybe I can do some poking to figure out— " again a hand runs through his hair. That's two employees stuck in the dome.
Devon nods on his end, though motion is unseen or heard. He lets out a breath and turns to press his back to the wall. "I don't know how much communication I'll have, sir.. the power… I'll be keeping my phone off." To conserve battery life, no telling if he'll be able to charge it again in the immediate future. "…I'll update when I can, though."
"Goes without saying," Brad quips to the first bit. "I recognize you'll have difficulties. If I find anything, I will send you a voicemail." His tongue rolls over his lips. "And hopefully you'll be able to pick it up when you can. I have another contact inside— " but there are some people Russo doesn't quite trust, his father just happens to be one of them. "— just stay safe. Do what you can, and stay in touch where you can." There's another pause before he adds, "And Kid? Call me Brad?"
"Yeah," Devon responds, generally a blanket answer to all that his boss has said. It's followed by a pause, a tightness from his end that implies possibly more the teenager wants to get onto the other side of the Dome. "I'll be in touch," he says instead. "…Thanks.. Brad."