Like us
ooc: Prompt given by adarkfallenstar"The death of hubby #2"
This has been in the back of my mind for a while and it was only last night did I manage to finally figure out how I'd write this.
She sits herself down on the edge of her bed, smoothening the silken sheets beneath her. The curtains are drawn, blocking the moonlight from streaming into the bedroom. The small lamp on the end table remained unlit. In her hand she held a cordless phone, and with steady fingers she dialed.
"Hello, Miss Bizz? It's Angela. I need to speak with Jerome" She whispered into the telephone's mouthpiece.
"Jeez Louise, Angela, isn't it like, what? Two in the morning over there?" the secretary's voice crackled into her ear.
"And the problem would be?" She demands, her tone sharp enough to cut.
"Nothing, just a little hurt you don't even ask how I am or how my kids are doing. You know, Jenny's been getting into all kinds of scrapes and-"
"Miss Bizz, please." Angela snaps, the snarl audible in her voice, "Just patch me to Jerome. We can play catch-up later."
"Alright, I'll take a rain check for now, but we'll get together soon."
They were empty promises and both women knew it.
There was a beep, followed by a pause and music filters out the speaker. Angela sighs, massaging the bridge of her nose as she waits for Jerome to pick up.
Eventually, the call is transferred to the lawyer's office, "Talk to me."
Angela tenses at the sound of his voice, her fingers clenching tightly around the phone while she struggles to calm down. "Jerome, it's Angela."
"I know, Miss Bizz informed me."
"I need you to come over here." She orders, her posture stiffening as if he would be able to see how serious she was.
"Sure, let me just check when I'm free and I'll-"
"No," She cuts in, "You have to come here now."
He blinks, "Can't this wait?"
"No, it can't."
"What happened?"
The dranichian glances over her shoulder, her gaze traveling along the wrinkles in the bed sheet until they rest on the unmoving figure that had been her second husband.
"There's been an... accident."
-----------------------
Jerome arrived fifteen minutes after she put the phone down. He was phased into the foyer where Angela met him. The woman had donned a bathrobe, silk and monogrammed with her initials, over her nightgown.
She led him to an anteroom, absently telling him he was free to drop his skin. Jerome declined, saying how it wouldn't be appropriate as she couldn't drop hers.
"What happened?" the lawyer the Plumbers assigned her asked once they were in the privacy of the anteroom.
"Is this for the record?" she folded her arms across her chest, blue eyes trained on him.
He nodded, "Naturally."
"He mentioned something that..." she looked away, French tipped nails digging into her arm, "Triggered a painful memory about Gabriel and I accidentally overfed on him."
Jerome quirked a silver brow, "What had been his state of mind when he mentioned whatever it was?"
"Challenging. Over confident. Like he was daring me." This time she met his gaze, chin jutting out defiantly.
"What was your state of mind prior to the feeding?"
"Fatigued. Hungry. Irrational. The past week had been hectic, two charity dinners, and one product launch which my husband had heavily invested in."
"And how was his physical state after overfeeding?"
Angela's lips curled into a mirthless grin, "Died with a smile on his face."
"Any residual toxins or noticeable mutilations?"
"Of course not! What do you take me for? A half-breed?" she snapped, frowning in annoyance.
"It's a standard question, Angela. No need to get snippy."
The woman shifts uncomfortably in place but offered no apology.
"Seems to me you have all your bases covered." Jerome nodded while he finished jotting down notes. "Now, remember, the mourning period is a minimum of six months. It is highly suggested that you travel while you mourn for both your social and physical health."
"I know. We've gone through all this after Gabriel's death."
"Mmm, I'm still required by law to send someone from psych to see you in the morning. Then someone from PR will issue you a statement in order to explain all this to the local authorities."
"Thank you, Jerome."
The lawyer put his things away and gave Angela a long, hard look. "Now that we've taken care of the legal bullshit to cover your ass, care to tell me what really happened?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She clearly took offense at his insinuation, blue eyes suddenly aglow.
"Easy there Sparkles, I'm not asking as your Lawyer Jerome." He chuckled, hands raised before him in a sign of appeasement, "I'm asking as one parasite to another."
Angela doesn't look convinced.
"Let's say we're just discussing something hypothetically." He suggested, "All off the record, naturally."
"Naturally." If her tone had been any colder, Jerome would have been able to see her breath.
A beat.
"So?"
Another beat.
"So what?"
He groaned, "Shit, why does getting a straight answer out of you always have to be like pulling teeth?"
The pleasant smile on her face doesn't make it any less infuriating, "I don't know what you're talking about considering we're not really having this conversation. Jerome, why exactly are you still here instead of handing off the information for processing?"
"Like I'm going to be straight with you." An amused snort.
"Tit for tat." Again the amicable smile.
"I asked first."
"And I stand by my original answer."
"You realize I could easily change my opinion about the case and question how convenient it all is."
"Yes, except unlike me, you're not petty enough to follow through with your threat."
"Petty? No. Lonely? Maybe."
Angela's brows knitted together as she stared, "How on Earth could you be lonely?"
Angela's mind raced as she wondered what exactly was he trying to accomplish. She studied him, tried to figure out what angle was he working and whether or not he was being sincere. Like her, Jerome fed upon sentient beings, except instead of mana, he fed upon emotions.
"There aren't a lot of us in this quadrant. And by us I mean those who don't think we're fucking monsters because of what we need to eat. Yeah, I've made friends here and there but they just don't, just can't get it."
His energy signature confused Angela, it was erratic and it fluctuated too much. She doesn't know how her own emotions, or her relative lack thereof, was equally confusing to him.
"And you believe I do?"
"Trick question. I'm not answering that." He chuckled.
"Why do you even think there's more to this than what I've already told you?"
"Your kind doesn't feel certain emotions the way most sentient beings do. You can understand how these emotions affect the species you're currently living with and you use this knowledge to manipulate your situation."
"For certain emotions, yes, but pain and suffering are emotions we feel perfectly well."
"Physically."
There was a sharp intake of air, "Splitting hairs are we, Jerome?"
"Only because I know what we are."
"And I know we aren't very trusting." Her tone was a warning that she was starting to feel like she was being backed into a corner.
Jerome sighed tiredly, "Angela, when they first assigned me to your case, I could have easily swayed them into forcing you to leave Earth. I could have done that anytime since Gabriel's death and your marriage to whats-his-face."
"Donovan." She spoke through grit teeth. Her shoulders hunched slightly forward, her hands balling into fists.
"Not to mention I'm legally bound to keep your secrets to the grave."
She was making it very clear visually that she did not like where this conversation was heading and that he was treading on thin ice. "That is still not a compelling reason to hypothetically acknowledge your accusation."
"How about having one less secret to burden yourself with? And don't deny having any secrets because that would be bullshit."
"I have no trouble carrying my burdens, thank you very much." She sniffed in condescension, eyes flickering.
"Then please explain why Donovan's dead as a doornail?"
"That is a stupid figure of speech; doornails were never alive to begin with." An attempt to change topics and a chance to defuse the instinctive urge to lash out.
He eyed her, "Nice try in avoiding the question."
And suddenly her hands are at his throat.
"He found out what I was, what my son was, and he didn't take it well." She hissed, her entire form alight in a brilliant, white-hot glow. "For all his talk on being a xenophile, for all his insistence that he was open-minded, Donovan still proved himself to be like every. Other. Human."
Jerome showed no indication of discomfort. "Afraid of what he didn't know or understand."
"Yes!" She cried, "He was going to call the authorities! He was going to expose me and my son! I couldn't let him!"
"So you had to silence him." His tone was soft, comforting, understanding. And Angela could almost feel his voice running over her skin like velvet.
"I tried to reason with him but he wouldn't even listen!"
"He left you with no choice." He finished for her.
She nodded, a strange calm overtaking her. She released her hold on Jerome, not even concerned about the bright, red marks her fingers left on his neck. "It was either him or us."
"It will always be us, won't it?" Jerome smiled as he gently led Angela down to her seat.
"Naturally."
Jerome smoothened the wrinkles in his suit, gathered his things and bade the newly widowed woman goodbye. "Between them and us, I'd choose us as well."
Just before he left she called out to him, "Jerome?"
"Yes, Angela?"
"Two things." Her expression was benign, the smile on her lips almost dreamy, "One, if you ever use anything I've said as leverage against me or my son I will kill you.
"And two, if you ever feed off of me again without asking? I will drain you to the brink of death and keep you there."
"Angela, please, it's too soon to be asking me out on a dinner date." He laughed.
An energy blast chars the wallpaper where the lawyer's face had been seconds before he managed to phase out.
This has been in the back of my mind for a while and it was only last night did I manage to finally figure out how I'd write this.
She sits herself down on the edge of her bed, smoothening the silken sheets beneath her. The curtains are drawn, blocking the moonlight from streaming into the bedroom. The small lamp on the end table remained unlit. In her hand she held a cordless phone, and with steady fingers she dialed.
"Hello, Miss Bizz? It's Angela. I need to speak with Jerome" She whispered into the telephone's mouthpiece.
"Jeez Louise, Angela, isn't it like, what? Two in the morning over there?" the secretary's voice crackled into her ear.
"And the problem would be?" She demands, her tone sharp enough to cut.
"Nothing, just a little hurt you don't even ask how I am or how my kids are doing. You know, Jenny's been getting into all kinds of scrapes and-"
"Miss Bizz, please." Angela snaps, the snarl audible in her voice, "Just patch me to Jerome. We can play catch-up later."
"Alright, I'll take a rain check for now, but we'll get together soon."
They were empty promises and both women knew it.
There was a beep, followed by a pause and music filters out the speaker. Angela sighs, massaging the bridge of her nose as she waits for Jerome to pick up.
Eventually, the call is transferred to the lawyer's office, "Talk to me."
Angela tenses at the sound of his voice, her fingers clenching tightly around the phone while she struggles to calm down. "Jerome, it's Angela."
"I know, Miss Bizz informed me."
"I need you to come over here." She orders, her posture stiffening as if he would be able to see how serious she was.
"Sure, let me just check when I'm free and I'll-"
"No," She cuts in, "You have to come here now."
He blinks, "Can't this wait?"
"No, it can't."
"What happened?"
The dranichian glances over her shoulder, her gaze traveling along the wrinkles in the bed sheet until they rest on the unmoving figure that had been her second husband.
"There's been an... accident."
-----------------------
Jerome arrived fifteen minutes after she put the phone down. He was phased into the foyer where Angela met him. The woman had donned a bathrobe, silk and monogrammed with her initials, over her nightgown.
She led him to an anteroom, absently telling him he was free to drop his skin. Jerome declined, saying how it wouldn't be appropriate as she couldn't drop hers.
"What happened?" the lawyer the Plumbers assigned her asked once they were in the privacy of the anteroom.
"Is this for the record?" she folded her arms across her chest, blue eyes trained on him.
He nodded, "Naturally."
"He mentioned something that..." she looked away, French tipped nails digging into her arm, "Triggered a painful memory about Gabriel and I accidentally overfed on him."
Jerome quirked a silver brow, "What had been his state of mind when he mentioned whatever it was?"
"Challenging. Over confident. Like he was daring me." This time she met his gaze, chin jutting out defiantly.
"What was your state of mind prior to the feeding?"
"Fatigued. Hungry. Irrational. The past week had been hectic, two charity dinners, and one product launch which my husband had heavily invested in."
"And how was his physical state after overfeeding?"
Angela's lips curled into a mirthless grin, "Died with a smile on his face."
"Any residual toxins or noticeable mutilations?"
"Of course not! What do you take me for? A half-breed?" she snapped, frowning in annoyance.
"It's a standard question, Angela. No need to get snippy."
The woman shifts uncomfortably in place but offered no apology.
"Seems to me you have all your bases covered." Jerome nodded while he finished jotting down notes. "Now, remember, the mourning period is a minimum of six months. It is highly suggested that you travel while you mourn for both your social and physical health."
"I know. We've gone through all this after Gabriel's death."
"Mmm, I'm still required by law to send someone from psych to see you in the morning. Then someone from PR will issue you a statement in order to explain all this to the local authorities."
"Thank you, Jerome."
The lawyer put his things away and gave Angela a long, hard look. "Now that we've taken care of the legal bullshit to cover your ass, care to tell me what really happened?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She clearly took offense at his insinuation, blue eyes suddenly aglow.
"Easy there Sparkles, I'm not asking as your Lawyer Jerome." He chuckled, hands raised before him in a sign of appeasement, "I'm asking as one parasite to another."
Angela doesn't look convinced.
"Let's say we're just discussing something hypothetically." He suggested, "All off the record, naturally."
"Naturally." If her tone had been any colder, Jerome would have been able to see her breath.
A beat.
"So?"
Another beat.
"So what?"
He groaned, "Shit, why does getting a straight answer out of you always have to be like pulling teeth?"
The pleasant smile on her face doesn't make it any less infuriating, "I don't know what you're talking about considering we're not really having this conversation. Jerome, why exactly are you still here instead of handing off the information for processing?"
"Like I'm going to be straight with you." An amused snort.
"Tit for tat." Again the amicable smile.
"I asked first."
"And I stand by my original answer."
"You realize I could easily change my opinion about the case and question how convenient it all is."
"Yes, except unlike me, you're not petty enough to follow through with your threat."
"Petty? No. Lonely? Maybe."
Angela's brows knitted together as she stared, "How on Earth could you be lonely?"
Angela's mind raced as she wondered what exactly was he trying to accomplish. She studied him, tried to figure out what angle was he working and whether or not he was being sincere. Like her, Jerome fed upon sentient beings, except instead of mana, he fed upon emotions.
"There aren't a lot of us in this quadrant. And by us I mean those who don't think we're fucking monsters because of what we need to eat. Yeah, I've made friends here and there but they just don't, just can't get it."
His energy signature confused Angela, it was erratic and it fluctuated too much. She doesn't know how her own emotions, or her relative lack thereof, was equally confusing to him.
"And you believe I do?"
"Trick question. I'm not answering that." He chuckled.
"Why do you even think there's more to this than what I've already told you?"
"Your kind doesn't feel certain emotions the way most sentient beings do. You can understand how these emotions affect the species you're currently living with and you use this knowledge to manipulate your situation."
"For certain emotions, yes, but pain and suffering are emotions we feel perfectly well."
"Physically."
There was a sharp intake of air, "Splitting hairs are we, Jerome?"
"Only because I know what we are."
"And I know we aren't very trusting." Her tone was a warning that she was starting to feel like she was being backed into a corner.
Jerome sighed tiredly, "Angela, when they first assigned me to your case, I could have easily swayed them into forcing you to leave Earth. I could have done that anytime since Gabriel's death and your marriage to whats-his-face."
"Donovan." She spoke through grit teeth. Her shoulders hunched slightly forward, her hands balling into fists.
"Not to mention I'm legally bound to keep your secrets to the grave."
She was making it very clear visually that she did not like where this conversation was heading and that he was treading on thin ice. "That is still not a compelling reason to hypothetically acknowledge your accusation."
"How about having one less secret to burden yourself with? And don't deny having any secrets because that would be bullshit."
"I have no trouble carrying my burdens, thank you very much." She sniffed in condescension, eyes flickering.
"Then please explain why Donovan's dead as a doornail?"
"That is a stupid figure of speech; doornails were never alive to begin with." An attempt to change topics and a chance to defuse the instinctive urge to lash out.
He eyed her, "Nice try in avoiding the question."
And suddenly her hands are at his throat.
"He found out what I was, what my son was, and he didn't take it well." She hissed, her entire form alight in a brilliant, white-hot glow. "For all his talk on being a xenophile, for all his insistence that he was open-minded, Donovan still proved himself to be like every. Other. Human."
Jerome showed no indication of discomfort. "Afraid of what he didn't know or understand."
"Yes!" She cried, "He was going to call the authorities! He was going to expose me and my son! I couldn't let him!"
"So you had to silence him." His tone was soft, comforting, understanding. And Angela could almost feel his voice running over her skin like velvet.
"I tried to reason with him but he wouldn't even listen!"
"He left you with no choice." He finished for her.
She nodded, a strange calm overtaking her. She released her hold on Jerome, not even concerned about the bright, red marks her fingers left on his neck. "It was either him or us."
"It will always be us, won't it?" Jerome smiled as he gently led Angela down to her seat.
"Naturally."
Jerome smoothened the wrinkles in his suit, gathered his things and bade the newly widowed woman goodbye. "Between them and us, I'd choose us as well."
Just before he left she called out to him, "Jerome?"
"Yes, Angela?"
"Two things." Her expression was benign, the smile on her lips almost dreamy, "One, if you ever use anything I've said as leverage against me or my son I will kill you.
"And two, if you ever feed off of me again without asking? I will drain you to the brink of death and keep you there."
"Angela, please, it's too soon to be asking me out on a dinner date." He laughed.
An energy blast chars the wallpaper where the lawyer's face had been seconds before he managed to phase out.