Participants:
| Scene Title | Saturday |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A phone call, a name, and a favor asked. |
| Date | February 1, 2011 |
Hamilton Heights: Outside Felix's Apartment
Ring ring/ All the batteris in all the cell phones will be dead soon. But a message has to get out, he has to find out. Ring ring. It's Ziadie's burn phone. It's very late, Ethan is just outside smoking his last cancer stick of the night.
Ziadie's phone is slipped open, but he doesn't say anything for several minutes. There's the sound of a gun being picked up, the sound of shoes being slipped on, the sound of someone shuffling very quietly through a house. He's trying not to wake his roommate. A couple clicks of doors, and Ziadie leans on the wall of the apartment hallway, phone to his ear. "What?"
"Dome. I'm in it." The static is heavy, and Ethan really has to speak to get his voice to the other line. "Remember Nick York? I need y't'get a 'old of 'im. I need y't'ask 'im to try and find me daughter. She was near when shit went down. I'm givin' you a number, can y'write it down?"
"Well fuck," Ziadie says, quietly. "Better than in prison, isn' it?" Ziadie pauses a moment. Hopefully he can be heard on the other end because it's late and he sure isn't going to wake Felix up. "Yes."
Passing the number over, Ethan takes a moment. "I'm turnin' off th'phone to save the battery. I'll turn it back on in two days at twelve. And then every day at 12 if I don't 'ear from you. Find York. 'ave 'im find my daughter. Call me back." The man commands. "I'd ask 'ow you're doing. But I don't 'ave much time for talking. Can y'do that for me?"
Ziadie hmms. He's not going to mention that he already has Nick York's cell number, not going to mention that the man bought him drinks. "Turn your phone on Saturday, not Friday." A pause. "Not Friday. And just be lucky you calling didn't wake Ivanov up. If I find out anything about that thing you're trapped in, I'll call, leave a message."
"Ivanov?" Holden asks. Ivanov. It's a small fucking world. "Oh, your friend." He quickly masks. That doesn't count as a lie, right? "Good. Call me Saturday. Noon." It sounds like he's about to hang up. But he pauses. "Ziadie… Please make sure she's alright." And with that click.
Right then. Ziadie leans against the wall for several minutes, already looking in his burn phone, where the number of Nick is already programmed in. It's the only other number, besides Holden's. A deep breath and a sigh, and Ziadie shoves the phone into the pocket of his pyjama pants, carefully opening the door as quietly as he can. Calming down from being woken up in the middle of the god damn night. His gun goes back into the holster, and the older man lays down.
It will be quite a while before he gets back to sleep.
