Participants:
| Scene Title | Later, Fine Southern Abby |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Attempt number 3 by Amadeus to get in on Abby's good side. |
| Date | September 6, 2010 |
Hallway of Le Rivage
He's had time to change his game plan around. Be less of a dick, practice not swearing, treat with the respect that one would treat Johnny Rotten, Bon Scott, or even Courtney Love, all fairly respectable people in Amadeus' book. He shows up with a bag like the time before, though this one has a few smaller bags all laying in an FYE bag. When he knows, he announces, "It's the Spawn of Flint, back to hunt for and capture your good side." with a little snicker.
Crack of the door again, Dog nose straining to sniff and smell at whatever is on the other side and Abigail's blue eye's peering out from between the door and lintel.
"Do you not give up?" It's an honestly asked question as they stand off with the door between them. "I mean, spawn of Deckard, surely, at some point, you must give up"
"I don't give up until a chick's chasin' me down the street with a knife yellin' about how I owe her money." Amadeus shrugs and holds the bag up, grinning. "I got you a present. Oh and I learned some French, so you could see how I'm all, like, sophisticated and stuff." He clears his throat, then says, "Fere jacques, croissant, corbin bleu."
Francois would be cringing, probably leading Abby away from the door and closing it. «I don't like presents, I don't like you, and speaking french to impress me is the farthest thing that would make me like you Amadeus Deckard». It's not french that she talks, but Italian instead, his name at least in english. There is an unhappy distrustful looking woman on the other side of the door. "I can go get the knife if you like, or better yet, there's a detective just down the hall, I'm friends with his daughter"
"All I know about Italian is knowin' when a guy's sayin' he might cut my finger off, and the word 'fish'." Amadeus graciously says with a small smile, then hangs the bag over his shoulder and stares down at the dog. "I ain't so bad. I'm not swearin' or anything, I just wanna see what kinda person my dad hangs out with, the kind that ain't criminals. It's easier than tryin' to talk to him and getting my ass kicked."
"He doesn't hang out with me Amadeus. Have you not clued into that? He hasn't hung around me for a long time and you say that as if you assume that I'm not a criminal. I don't care that you're not swearing, though I appreciate it, that you done went and cleaned up your mouth. But your father and I haven't been close in moths. Since February. We run into each other the street on occasion and that's it. And it's a hi, hello, how are you, followed by awkward silence and looks and then we go our own ways"
The night latch is let off, and Rhett strains the whole time till he's free and out, circling Amadeus with a growl.
"You don't look like a criminal. I mean I guess you could be the daughter of a mob boss, a prostitute, or a drug dealer, but you look pretty freakin' clean to me, and I ain't never hear of a Southern mob boss' daughter." Amadeus is suddenly jumping back, backing up very quickly until the dog starts //circling, then he just goes completely stiff and stays very still. "You didn't have to set the dog on me. Damn, I get on your nerves that much? And I looked really hard to find something you'd like."
"You don't know what I like Amadeus, unless you've been breaking into my apartment" Abigail glances down to Rhett then back up to Amadeus. "He likes food" She points out.
"He can have the sandwiches, but I ain't going anywhere near a dog's mouth. And I've been tryin' to be classy, so I haven't broken into your apartment yet." Amadeus raises the bag and reaches in for the plastic container that holds a BLT platter, then very carefully reaches out to hand it to her. "He can have 'em, just call 'im off."
He does relax a little, when the dog doesn't seem to actually attack him, then reaches down into the FYE bag and pulls out a Taylor Swift CD. "I went and asked what kinda music Southern chicks like, and the chick in the store said this." He waves the CD around a few times. "I aint' never heard of 'er, she wasn't around when I went to jail."
"Dogs can't eat tomato's Amadeus Deckard and I don't listen to Taylor Swift. I have work today" Which might explain the navy pants and white shirt and the boots that she has on. "I don't have time to deal with this, please stop trying to impress me with presents and things that you think I might not like. Maybe you need to talk to your dad, about what I like. Maybe just sit and have a real talk with your father, about things, and tone down the whole over-eager talk a lot. He doesn't talk a lot. He likes silence, and he likes to sit quietly. Learn to do those and just maybe you might get along better with him"
Abby's hand comes out, snagging the collar around the dogs and hauling the poor beast back into the apartment. The door closes not moments later, leaving Amadeus with the sandwiches and his Taylor Swift CD untaken.
"You're the most frustrating chick I've ever met." Amadeus says with an exasperated sigh, then starts stuffing things back into the bag, slumping a bit. "I'll be back after I talk to my dad, whenever that'll be." He almost starts to walk off, then stops, reaches into the bag, and takes the CD out to lay against the bottom of the door. "Later, Fine Southern Abby." and proceeds to walk down the hall.