Participants:
| Scene Title | Took The Midnight Teleporter To Vegas |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Teo gets a midnight (her time) call from the Bellagio hotel that ends in the Sicilian renting a Teleporter so he can be a witness. |
| Date | April 17, 2019 |
Bellagio Hotel, Vegas - Wedding chapels bridle room.
Lots of cream colors, expensive fabrics, lights and crystals. Three hours behind New York City.
Ring ring ring, banana phone. Well, not a banana phone. It's the Teo phone that's ringing. On the other end is ye old southern blonde, in a very quiet room, with the phone up to her ear. Unlike certain Lawyers, her own technology stays woefully behind the times unless necessary to update it. Or Deckard or someone makes her update it. It's a god aweful hour in the morning which means either Teo's alseep, or he's wide awake. She's hoping for the latter.
The latter. Work night, a conspicuous and unusual break from — fucking Alexander's brains out, mainly. His hand claps down over the cellphone's round carapace, and he pries it open with a flick of a thumb. His voice, when it comes, is slightly rusted from diverted focus, but only slightly. "Caro," he says, instantly. "Sorry I haven't visited. I miss the k…" There's a quaver-beat's pause as Teo's brain flashes through the lightning deductions of the hour, and— "What's wrong?"
"We're in Vegas."
Not that, you know, that's wrong. But at some point the blonde, in her wedding attire, standing in the bridal waiting room of the Bellagio needed to call a friend. Call someone. Get a touch base on reality.
The silence is not very long, but much moreso than Teodoro is normally wont to let stand and stain between himself and the Weezyanan girl who's been the object of his guardianship and fancy for eleven years and counting. His eyes open and close several times, and she can hear a subtle flux of breath rattling through static as he retracts some other statement in favor of: "That's unfair.
"I take it you aren't about to yell at me to hire a teleporter over."
"Only if you want to come" is her breathy reply back. "7 hours ago he asked in the Boar if I wanted to go to Vegas" There's a swish of fabric over the phone line.
"Tada!"
Another breath, staccato, a cough. "Some part of me wants to argue, given there are thousands of dollars worth of available gifts if you want to do this the 'right' way," Teo says. 'Right,' with quote marks. "But not even Vegas could be wrong for you two.
"Holy shit." There is more feeling than usual compacted into those two words. Furniture thuds somewhere off the side of his torso. Ho-ly fucking shit. Then, as if he's fourteen years old again, the Sicilian abruptly bursts into gloating, enough purring satisfaction to explode the acoustic proportions of a full-grown cougar: "I knew it. I fucking knew it. You know, Ivanov and the other critics can fucking blow me. I knew this— I knew it. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it."
There's an utterly prideful smile on the blondes face, not that he can see it. But he can hear it when her voice parts across the line again. "We are.. utterly terrible for each other. Horrible. We squabble and we grunt, and we chafe at the bits but.. in the end" In the end, they're both still there, regardless. "I had to tell someone. I haven't even told my father. He has Li-Li and joe"
"Relationships are like that," Teo responds in that sort of voice she can picture with a hand waving to the side, dismissing the near-breakups and snarling intervention of malicious FBI agents in an abrupt flit-flit-back of palm. "Human nature is like that. Or so I have been told. You're good for each other, too. Complementarily insane, good hearts. Fuck—
"I'm so happy for you two. The English vocabulary doesn't have enough fucking words to explain. Don't waste too much money on the slot machines, all right? Make sure Deckard knows that if the fallout to his inevitable emotional implosion from intimacy issues or whatever the fuck lands in the region of infidelity or alcoholism, I…" Teo trails off into a brief, thinking sort of silence.
"Well, I recommend marijuana as a preventative measure."
"Teodoro Laudani" The lau in his last name drawn out as she's is habitually capable of due to her drawl. "He will not be stoned. Besides" Another swish of fabric. 'We're heading back right after. Don't .. don't tell anyone. We want it to be a surprise. I just.. we had been, you and I, and I just.." Quiet breathing follows in the silence followed by a nearly hidden sniffle. "I could delay, you could call up a teleporter. I mean, so far, the one witness we need, is some drunken bum off the street that we rented a tux for"
All things considered, the NYPD is having so much trouble getting this case to move that, surely, one night wouldn't make a difference—
"If you two let me go, I'll be good forever," Teo says. He is probably lying, but the sentiment is there when he says it. Unadulterated sincerity that doesn't fade even when the facetious word choice and overtone do. He hesitates for a fractioned instant, unsure if he has the accurate bead on her emotional state. The way it's quivering on the wind. Cold feet? "Bella—" Second thoughts?
What bride feels neither, when stone cold sober at the altar seven hours after the question? "You told me once you'd never regret trying to love somebody. Despite the uncertainty. There was an island crawling with kudzu. I know your heart broke anyway, but if you don't regret that—" me, Teo means. If you don't regret having been with me, "I know you won't be sorry you did this."
"I love him" Another sniffle. "Oh my mascara. God damnit. Oh God damnit I cursed, oh I did it again" Emotions are high. "I took off Johan's ring for him. Two days ago. After the policeman's ball. I'm crying and ruining my face because I love him, and I'm afraid that he won't think I love him even though he had the… warmest little smile of his face and surprise that I said I'd go to Vegas. He doesn't think he's good enough for me. But he is, and I love his mangey ass even when we're.. babysitting time travelers and dealing with jealous wannabe lovers"
Honest tears now, but nothing that will bring doubt to her words. "I don't regret you, I had to give it a try and I don't regret him, not in the least even though he's twice my age, and thanksgiving he's on the couch with my father fast asleep after the turkey and he doesn't like affection in front of others. And Lawd Teo, he's just.. well, what goes on between our sheets is never boring. Just.. just get the teleporter and get down here, I have 15 minutes before i'm supposed to walk to him. We're at the Bellagio in the chapel, I'm in the brides waiting room"
There's barely a footfall to betray the sound of Teo moving, but then, she knows by now how quietly he walks. There is, however, a rattle of closet to betray him rifling for— something halfway presentable. "I'm the worst queer in the world: I don't know the first fucking thing about makeup," he answers, his voice adjusting with the trajectory of his head, smudged against the phone. "But I'll be there. Soon as I can. Bellagi— the fucking Bellagio— chapel, brides' waiting room. I got it. I'm coming.
"You'll make him believe," he concludes, abruptly, with a sudden stop of the rustling of cloth against cloth. A quaver-beat and then, with a note of mirth that fails entirely to be cruel: "Even if it isn't true."
Yes, the Bellagio. She had the money, he had the money. It was that or the drive-thru Elvis. Just as appropriate but FLint had wanted to at least get out of a car and get married as opposed to being in a car. "He's more than good enough" Self assertion, honest understanding. Everything. "He's everything and more. Even when his bullet ridden ass is calling me to save him. I'll be waiting, I'm decent. If your not in time I'll just.. I'll claim my dress is ripped" IF that could be believed since there's actually not even a full fledged wedding dress on the woman. A short white silk sheath. "that should buy me ten minutes"
"I'll hurry. —I have to hang up if I'm going to hurry," Teo says, the inherent apology hasty, almost slapped-on; but he only has one phone right now, and he'll need it to rouse one of the mercenary teleporters on-call at this hour in New York, throw money at them for a trip so short-notice it's probably going to come down to an auctioned bid. "I'll see you. You and your big old boy. If you call and the line is busy, that's a good sign. All right?"
"I would hope so. You can be my surprise to him. My present. Someone.. needs to witness this, and even though a dirty old drunken bum is.. appropriate, I just.. Just get here" and with those words the other side of the line closes as Abby hangs up, presumably to let him get his ass moving so she doesn't have to fake a dress issue. "Thank you Lord… for this night. This man, these men…" What's spoken next falling silent into the blonde's mind as she sets about to wait for one Sicilian to take her to become Mrs. Abigail Deckard.
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