Participants:
Scene Title | He Likes You |
---|---|
Synopsis | Abigail calls up Huruma to find out what the present means and whether to be worried. |
Date | APril 26, 2009 |
Over Telephone Lines
Huruma's number is located in her cellphone's directory, the green call button pressed and the connection flares to life, digital transmission flying across unseen lines to light up Huruma's phone. Later afternoon, some salsa and some tortillas beside Abigail, she figures it's safe enough to call Huruma.
Somewhere, the simple chime of Huruma's phone echoes in her pocket. A few spare rings- checking the ID- and then the ringer halts and the line is picked up. It sounds somewhat breezy, wherever she is. "Abigail." The woman's voice is unmarred by the wind, somewhat helped by the fact that crunching gravel can be heard as she moves to a less noisy place.
"Huruma. Afteroon" Abby's pleasent voice over the phone is just that. The budgie chirps in the background. "Should I be worried that Mr. Monroe is sending me presents?"
There are a few extra seconds of silence, followed by a laugh that begins softly and builds into a breathy, rumbling chuckle. "Sending you presents, you say…?" The breeze suddenly stops in the background. "Wha'manner of presents?"
"He sent me a sculpture. I think it's bronze. It's of Jesus applying mud to the blind mans eyes and curing him of his blindness" there's a pause and then "I don't think it's something that you can just pick up out of a department store either…" Worry creeping into her voice, especially at the laugh.
Another moment of silence, wherein Huruma has actually taken the phone away from her head for a few reasons. "Mmmmmhmhm." Her laugh trails through her words. "It means'e likes you." AKA- no, not a department store.
Means he likes her. "He signed it Love, Adam Huruma" She probably interrupted the woman doing something, but huruma's not begging off or hanging up on her. "He's met me once, and he's sending me statues not from department stores, and signing a note Love, Adam" aka, do I need to be worried.
"Slow down, m'dear." Huruma's voice, even over the phone- embodies an essence of calmness not unlike a sleeping snake. Relax. "Adam is English, an'sort o'a duffer himself… where he comes from, it is no'so strange t'send a lady… gifts." Where he comes from actually means when, but Abby does not need to know that. "As f'Love, tha'is jus'an English mannerism as well. Don'get your panties in a bunch, Abigail." Don't worry.
British thing. "Last British guys who liked me Huruma, and left me a gift in the form of something expensive ended up shoving me in the basement of his brothel for a month and doing his best to kill me" The redhead point out. She didn't think he was in love with her just, it was strange. And strange these days was sending off some sort of warning flag in her mind.
Listen to this- Abby being …this isn't particularly Racist, but something like it. "It is fiiine…" You trust her, don't you? "Adam is not John." Though in some respects, he could be just as bad. But the point being, is that he is not mister Logan.
After a pause wherein she is liable to be pictured giving the man on topic a dutiful glare- but is she? Who knows? "Adam'as his own problems- do no'think'e will expend'is time trying t'lure you int'a false sense o'security. A gift is a gift, wit'Adam Monroe."
This would be Abigail profiling. Subconsciously. Because so far, nearly every Englishman she's met, save for one Doctor Shelby, hasn't exactly been on the up and up. The pauses are suspicious though. "Is he with you?" Abigail shifts in spot on her couch, consuming another tostito.
"No." Though the word is deliberate, it is still hard to discern. If Adam is there, Huruma, however, does a good job of making seem otherwise. Or maybe she is telling the truth, and he is not there. Keeping Abigail guessing, unfortunately.
"Okay" Softly. "If you see him.." which likely, Huruma will see him sooner than Abigail will. "Tell him thank you. It's beautiful"
From the sound of Huruma's breath, she is smiling. "I will, Abigail."
"I'll get off the line. Have a good evening Huruma. Try not to get in too much trouble" The redhead stays on long enough to hear any exchanged good byes from Huruma before she closes her cellphone, looking down at her cat. "Cause he likes me. Wonder what he gives the people he loves scarlett"