A Microwaved Wallet


huruma_icon.gif ryans2_icon.gif

Scene Title A Microwaved Wallet
Synopsis Huruma is waiting in Ryans' Hotel room, but at least she comes bearing a gift.
Date April 03, 2010

Ryans' Hotel Room

His fedora held in his hand, wearing a pair of lightly gray slacks and a maroon dress shirt. His duster is untied and curls slightly around his legs. Ryans looks a touch worn, he's been out on Roosevelt again, hoping that he'd come across Luke Campbell, but by now he'd be long gone if he is smart.

He had started back when the snow started to filter from the sky, a sign that the predicted Blizzard was close and he didn't want to have to drive through it when it got really bad.

There is the click of the handle as the man lets himself into his hotel room, not really thinking to check the darkened room. The hat is tossed on top of his suitcase, and then starts to shrug out of the duster. That is about when he freezes.

He's not alone.

Though Ryans is no man to simply ignore everything alluded to him, Huruma always offers others a degree of this ignorance due to being distracted human beings overall. This is probably why he does not check the darkened place, probably why he does not realize someone else is there until it would otherwise be too late. If she were looking to take him out- Huruma would have already done so. When he turns to look, chances are he might remember that too.

Without the light on, the only real thing to come at him are her eyes watching him. The dark woman is strewn upon the shady comforter of his bed, one leg outstretched with the other bent at the knee, boot placed over the opposite limb. Her spine is leant up against the headboard, and both hands are knitted together over her stomach. The thick furs that constitute her coat put the illusion of a great brown beast at the foot of the bed.

"Getting lazy?" Huruma smiles, seemingly proud of herself in the way that a child may be when winning a game of hide-and-seek. "…Retirement made you distractible."

"Huruma." Ryans murmurs softly, eyes narrowing at her suspiciously. With here there, no mask is needed so it crumbs away to show that suspicion. After a moment, he finishes shrugging the coat off and tosses it over his fedora. "Old age does take it's toll on the senses." He admits blandly, his gun holster exposed now.

He turns now to face her, considering her, looking none too happy. "Why are you here?" Ryans isn't exactly the type to beat around the bush. "To rub under my nose that you have a clean slate?"

"I would'ave come even if I hadn't gotten one." She replies, almost tersely, staying in her seat upon the bed. "It is your problem, not mine." Huruma's lips curl at the edges when she regards him now, eyelids drooping. Her hand flutters down to pluck something up from the bed beside her, coming back with a tattered looking, black leather folio. On closer inspection it is warped and bubbled as if it had been subjected to boiling heat.

"I'm here b'cause you might like to see this. Whether or not it matters- tha'is up t'you."

"Your right, of course. It is my problem. Mine cause I didn't chase you, rather then take care of dying partner." Words bitter, his eyes drop to watch her pick something up off the bed, Ryans' mouth pulls down into a frown. The senior agent is cautious as he moves around the bed, his fingers work at the buttons of his sleeves, so he can roll them up. He twists his body so that his gun is on the far side from her and leans to plucks the wallet from her fingers.

Brows lift as he sees the condition of it, his eyes cut over her to and he asks sharply. "Where did you get this?" Maybe a part of the agent doesn't quite like that he owes this woman.

Huruma knows she could try to wrestle with him and probably do some damage- so she ignores the fact he aims his holster away from her. He knows she's fine without a gun, regardless. It does not look like she is here for anything more than what she is doing, however, so perhaps that is fortunate in itself. Her fingers brush against his when he takes the wallet from her hand as if he were sniping something from a nest.

"You tell me, Benjamin." Which is to say she knows perfectly well where she got it, just that Huruma likes to be difficult with some people more than others.

Inside of the wallet is still all of the half-molten items and ID, which at a glance is obviously from the pocket of a man working for the Department of Homeland Security.

Pulling the it close, he watches her for a moment, before he opens the wallet, fingers run over it. "Wait." Comes gruffly from the old man as he looks inside. "He killed a Homeland agent?" There is a touch of disappointment from Ryans, as this could change everything.

"This makes what he did that much more serious and my job all that more difficult." The Company agent doesn't bother to hide the irritation from the dark woman on his bed, she'd only feel it anyhow. "Killing an officer of the law, always means they will be gunning for him, control issues or not."

"Where was the body, Huruma?" Ryans knows her dining habits, so it's not hard to assume. The wallet is shut and he sighs. "I need to go to the site of the attack."

"Maybe he was an officer, maybe he was a jockey." Huruma doesn't know either way. "Greenwich. Backalley- by now I doubt there will b'much left. He didn't leave th'body there." Which means she not only found the scene- she was there at the same time that Luke was. Perhaps even witnessed it- though she also manages to make it sound as if Luke took the body.. She moves her bent leg out together with its twin, muscles giving a slight stretch before she simply keeps lounging on his bed. He has not grabbed her by the scruff, so to speak, so as far as Huruma is concerned she will sit there as long as she pleases.

"'S his own fault for being stupid about it, you know. Y'don'ave t'try an'justify his idiocy."

"A witness says he was disoriented and had no idea that the body was human." Ryans steps away, letting her lay there for now. "What was his mental state when you saw him? Did he say anything to you?" It's obvious he's all business at the moment as he moves to the window. Hands grip the fabric and he opens curtains to the thick fall of snow.

His head turns slightly, to look at her out of the corner of his eye, his face silhouetted for a moment, before he full turns. "This boy needs to be brought in Huruma, so he can get the control he needs."

"Last thing your kind needs is more uncontrolled evolved out there." His eyes go to the wallet in his hands before setting on the small round table.

She watches him in silence, pale eyes following his movements and pacing, his face forming his thoughts into words. Her metaphysical fingers tickle unfelt at his head in the meantime, while he moves and she keeps stone-faced.

"He is nowhere near my league. Do no'flatter him." Ah, there's her pride. Same old, same old. "He was fearful- I expect his power operates as a defensive thing, an'sometimes he is scared too far, an'it flares out of control. He did not seem a killer. Is that accurate?" Huruma's hands find the blanket under her, fingers smoothing over it before kneading and knotting into the fabric. If Huruma were not Huruma, she might make a pretty good agent. Not that it has ever been presented to her- just that she is sharp enough.

A rather bland goes her way at her pride kicking in, but then a small smile threatens the agents lips. "My apologies. Your right he is not in the same league as you. You, Huruma, are a much more dangerous creature." He can acknowledge that much, she is one of the few who could say they slipped away.

"And you are correct." Ryans says firmly, continuing to watch her as if waiting for her to finish what was left so long ago. "I don't think the deaths are intentional." Eyes narrow at her slightly. "It is a pity you took the road you did…" Though the why is left.

"Have you been to Roosevelt Island?" He asks conversationally, stepping towards the bed again. "If you haven't, I recommend you and Monroe have a look at what the government is doing." Ryans words rumbled much like a purr, if lions could truly purr. "The one thing I know is, as much as Monroe hates his creation, they are the lesser evil then what going on there. It is a sign of things to come."

"Any roads are taken out of necessity." For anyone, it applies. Huruma may look collected, but he is probably right to be ready for her; he knows all too well that she tends to coil up at some times. "I have seen. An'it is not s'much hating creations as it is hating those that harangued it from his hands. He is all too familiar with the setups of lesser an'greater evils." Her head tilts a degree to Ryans, somewhere between asking for him to continue and trying to get him to say something he isn't sure about. The agent isn't the confidant, and she almost wants him to keep talking like he knows what he's on about.

"Sometimes, Benjamin, it is easier t'wait things out. Besides- what they are doing on Roosevelt? Surely you realize it's happened before? All around th'world? Been there, done that."

"Yes, but to see it happening on our soil again when this sort of thing should have been long past." The senior agents words are softly spoken, but still fill the room. "Either way, I am not proud to see it. Despite how people see the Company as something evil, even I can recognize something horribly wrong."

He reaches for the wallet again, fingers plucking it off the table, Ryans holds it up. "I appreciate you bringing this." His face sliding into that neutral look of his. "But… it is time for you to go." Before he gets to relaxed in her presence, he's unnerved by it. "Break into my place again, and I won't be so nice next time."

"That's what they allllll say." Huruma laughs, a throaty and full sound as she bends her knees to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. Her hand slides along the bedspread to pick up her coat by its collar, pulling it with her when she stands. It does not help in her presence when she is able to pretty much look him in the eyes, standing there a moment. Her limbs wind through the motions of hoisting her coat on.

"Before long, maybe I will worm my way into your life too. Doesn't that sound lovely?" Huruma's shoulders see-saw under the thick warmth before she moves to let herself out, casting a speculative look over her shoulder while she purrs back. "Good luck, wit'th'boy."

Eyes narrow dangerously at what he considers a threat. "It would take considerable effort to worm your way into my life, Huruma." Ryans words are calm, but his irritation thick in the air. "Past deeds are not so easily forgotten, the blood of my partner will forever be a thing between us." The distance shrinks between them, as the old man moves so he can make sure the door shuts firmly behind her.

There are times like this, he can still see his partner bleeding out in his arms, "Until we meet again." The words growl out, his emotions momentarily in turmoil as he moves to shut the door and lock it tight.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License