Too Long Ago


abby2_icon.gif matt_icon.gif

Scene Title Too Long Ago
Synopsis Abigail comes bearing bake goods for the much unloved Homeland agent. Only he has issues and decides he wants a drink.
Date May 30, 2009

Homeland Security - Matt's Office

It's Matt's office!

It's late late afternoon almost dinner. Back from Staten island and invigorated to do something, Abigail had baked. Being on the island had reminded her that there was someone that she had truly never thanks. Poor Matt Parkman. She may be in a strange state right now, but the least she can do is to give him a proper thank you like she did for everyone else.

There was the hassle that was getting through security. Take off her bag, empty her pockets, scan the the huge tupperware containers - two to be exact - for anything other than baked goods. Ten minutes later she was through. Because every muffin and biscuit could be a bomb don't you know. A call to warn him that she was coming, Abigail, sporting a visitors badge and escorted through by some little low level lackey who was given a muffin for his troubles. But there she is, all red hair back in a ponytail, leather jacket, jeans, peasant blouse and peeking in with blue eyes to see if he's actually in his office.

Sitting at his desk, Matt Parkman is on the phone, his tired head propped in one hand. Whoever is on the other line and whatever it is about, he doesn't look happy. Still, the underling lets Abby in before slipping away to avoid the wrath of his supervisor, knowing better than to interrupt him or leave Abby waiting outside.

"I know there's no official paperwork that says he's there, but he's there. It all lines up, anyway," Parkman is saying into the phone, doing his best to stay calm despite the tension in his jaw and forehead. "Do you know what the odds are when it comes to missing children? Do you know the likelihood that she's even still alive? We need to move on this information, and now."

Missing children? This is when having telepathy might just very well come in handy. But seeing that she probably shouldn't be listening to this - because Abby's security clearance is frankly null - She just stands inside the room, door closed and looking around the room as opposed to Matt. Try not to look directly at the other person in the room so as to perpetuate that illusion of privacy as opposed to what it really is. the known blabbermouth in the office of someone that a lot of people hate.

With an unhappy sigh too much like so many Parkman has been breathing lately, he leans back in his chair and wipes his face with a hand, as if trying to remove it. "Fine," he says into the phone. "Do what you need to do. I'll be here." Waiting. And hating it. With a grunted goodbye, Parkman practically slams the phone down into its cradle before covering his face with his hands. Abby might as well be invisible.

'Who's child?" Abigail asks in that still and low voice that's mean to be soothing or at least a promise of non-threat from the bearer. From her still corner, palms supporting the two tupper containers, the former healer peers at the homeland agent with some sincere weight of worry.

Were it not Abby's voice or the small bit of him that remembers that she was coming to see him, Parkman would not remain in his current position, practically a statue of pent up rage, frustration, and worry, fermented by impatience. "Mine," he says from behind his hands, and the tone suggests that there is more emotion on that hidden face than one might otherwise be aware of.


She's been swearing a lot of late. "When was she taken? If I'm allowed to ask" Her head cants to the right, trying to get a look at him, behind the hands. Not going to happen likely. So instead the redhead, with her hair back in it's french braid, puts her presents on one of the chairs in his office and steps forward. A little pack of Kleenex plucked from her bag, ripped open and slid along the desk to within his view, if he's looking down. "You need anything to drink or eat? have you drank, or eaten yet? Is someone helping take care of you so you can find her?"

"Too long ago," is Parkman's only answer, and he eventually does rake his hands down his face. It's a bleary-eyed, red thing that is in desperate need of relief. Screwing his face up in a more visible bout of anger, Parkman kicks out a foot at the trash can at the end of his desk, toppling it over and spilling a number of paper coffee cups.

He's had stuff to drink. Okay. "Do you know who has her? Sounded like you had a lead" Out of the messenger bag of bottomless stuff comes some visine and some Advil which is slid across and put beside the Kleenex. Slow movements, designed to not enrage. After that, it's crouching down on the floor to pick up the trash can and start picking up the scattered coffee cups.

Parkman grunts in reply, probably due to Abby's lack of security clearance. He stares at the items she's placed on the desk for a moment, then shakes his head. "You gotta be anywhere anytime soon?" he asks, rather out of the blue. Parkman waits a split second for an answer, then picks up his phone to set the forwarding to his cell.

"Nope. I took the week off work to just.. do stuff" She's trying to keep her mind fairly clear, aiming to be a blank slate in case he's inadvertently listening. Not meant to hide but more to be soothing. "I was baking, and though i'd bring you some things as a thanks. For, you know, the island" The last blue and white cardboard cup is plucked up, tossed into trash can. "Need to go for a walk? Get some fresh air?"

"A drink," Parkman clarifies as he rests the phone back on it's cradle and stands. He looks at the baked goods in the tupperware and nods. "You didn't have to do that," he points out, jerking his head toward the gifts as he grabs his suit jacket from the back of his chair. "But you're welcome. And thanks." Hopefully, the telepath will be a bit more relaxed once he's got a little alcohol in him.

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