Participants:
Scene Title | Adding It Up |
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Synopsis | Lawrence stays behind in Minea's apartment and further investigates; he finds her text to Len and realizes he's been set to pointless busy work. |
Date | May 12, 2009 |
Apartment of Minea Dahl
No fingerprints. Lawrence stands and stares at the door as it closes behind Len; his lips are still pursed, his generous brow still furrowed. No fingerprints?
Lawrence removes a thin pair of plastic gloves from his jacket pocket, pulling them on with a gentle snap-snap, and crouches down on the floor by where Minea was lying just minutes before. His partner.
For Lawrence, life has been pretty lonely thus far, as an accountant and as an agent. No close friends, no particular attachment to family. Now he has a cause, the Company, and working for the Company gives him the opportunity for excitement his old career didn't. It also offers something new: partnership.
Lawrence looks to Minea's gun, picks it up, tucks it away. Secure the gun. He's only known her a couple of weeks; he hasn't had time to get attached, and he doesn't bother getting attached anyway. Lawrence is well aware he is not what most people consider decent company, much less a friend. Minea Dahl is not his friend. She is his partner, and a distant one at that of late, but she is also friendly and patient and generally pleasant to Lawrence instead of exhasperated or annoyed by his many, many eccentricities. That might not mean much to some people, but Lawrence, outsider, never really fitting in, appreciates this.
His gaze shifts to the Blackberry; he collects that as well, powers it on, examines the menus. Missed calls provides a few numbers and names. Someone named Leland. Names he recognizes as Minea's family. A few others. Nothing he particularly cares about, but things he takes note of for later. Actually takes notes; pulls out a little notebook and a pencil and carefully writes. Lawrence is organized. He likes math. He likes it when everything adds up.
On to outgoing calls, then outgoing texts. Here he finds something interesting: Got home. Goodman Waiting. Broke in. MD
"Oh," says Lawrence, softly. He looks at the message, seeing each pixel on the display with clarity few manage without a microscope, black on blazing white, written there plain to see, undeniable.
Not concerned about prints.
Lawrence weighs the Blackberry in his hand, turns his head toward the still-open window. Goodman. Teleportation, as far as he knows. Nothing that would drop Dahl and leave her the way she was when they found her. Drugs? No. The simplest answer would be another presence, and likely an Evolved one.
Unbending skinny, crane-like legs, Lawrence glides over toward the window and bends there by the frame, eyes narrowing in on the wood, on the grain, on any smudges or marks…
Got home. Goodman waiting. Broke in.
Len knew. Len didn't say. Why wouldn't Len mention something? And if he already knew, why is Lawrence still here, kept busy and out of the way?
Always an outsider, suddenly Lawrence feels even more alone.