[Call]
[To Laylee. There are matters Hojo needs to discuss.]
[To Lucrecia. This one is difficult, and each dial tone sounds ominous in his ears.]
[To Lucrecia. This one is difficult, and each dial tone sounds ominous in his ears.]
Lucrecia Crescent.
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His dealings with Sephiroth drains him. It makes Hojo think of her.
For a moment, after hearing her speak, he says nothing at all.
Before he sighs, and mirrors her words.]
Lucrecia Crescent.
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...definitely not a voice she was expecting on the other side. She has it in mind to hang up the phone right then and there, not to speak to him. She hadn't spoken to him for some time as it was, but... but now, here he was calling HER of all people.]
How did you get my number, Hojo.
[Not a question, a demand to know. It scares her to know that he has her number, but...]
More importantly, what is it that you even want?
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Her words, haunting him. I love you. But she has been frozen in time and he has changed. What did she know of the deeds he had done in her absence?
A part of him is trying to bridge the gap.
Why?]
I was wondering.
[His voice is mildly hoarse, as if it has been overused. As if he has been shouting, or screaming. As if he has not been sleeping at all.]
If you would like to see your son.
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...but while yes, she does, she knows that sound of his voice. It's a sound she's heard before, long ago. Very long ago now. There's some concern in her voice when she speaks next.]
You should sleep more, you know. You of all people should know how bad it is for you to not get much sleep.
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Are you worried about me, Lucrecia Crescent? Perhaps you recall how severe my insomnia is.
But then again, maybe you should remember that it was I who destroyed everything you loved. So really, any concern for me would be misplaced, hmm?
[To what aim is he doing this? Hojo feels jetlagged, the sleeping pills not working, making him ill, making him sluggish. But he needed to hear her voice...]
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[That was a terribly low blow, and the urge to hang up on him comes back again, in full force. Lucrecia opens her mouth to say something back in retaliation to him, but...
...instead, ends the call. There's even the thought of throwing the phone against the wall, but she doesn't. Instead, she surprises herself and redials the last number to call her: Hojo's.
Ring, ring, Hojo.]
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She always did have trouble making up her mind.
He picks up, the cynical amusement still present in his voice, along with terrible exhaustion. Each syllable drags, each a massive effort.]
Yes, Lucrecia?
Did you call back to, haha, sing me a lullaby? Or perhaps you remembered something else to accuse me of. Being a murderer, being heartless- What else, Lucrecia? What else?
[So tired. He leans forward, elbows on his desk, one palm against closed eyes.]
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Instead, she decided it was best to humor him. Surprise him. This time, Lucrecia wasn't about to give in to his prodding at her feelings as he was doing with what seemed so much amusement, despite the fact that he was and very much sounded as if he was exhausted.
So she starts to sing. A lullaby. She may not be the best singer ever, but Lucrecia is singing to him nonetheless.
She is not mocking him.
She is not trying to push his buttons, that much is obvious with the way she's singing. There was, in fact plenty of concern for him, whether or not he believed it or not.]
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He listens, her intonations soft, endearing, real in its imperfect pitch. For a moment, listening is all he can do, because in her totally innocent way, she has completely disarmed him yet again.
Hojo opens his mouth, needing to say something to interrupt her, but not wanting to. Not being capable of doing so. Instead, finds himself with his head in his arms, the phone loosely pressed against his ear, and all the memories of their nights together awash over him.
She continues to sing. He continues to listen. His eyes glaze over with mist, but Hojo is frozen.
If everything would disappear...if she would take everything away, now, her voice encompassing the world until there is nothing left...if he could die this very moment, he would die with no regrets.
She sings. He listens. He listens until her song ends, before he stirs with something inside himself that feels foreign, vulnerable, and displaced.]
Lucy. I-
I'm sorry.
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[Again, not trying to push his buttons. She says it so simply. If it elicits a bad response from him... well, that's what it will do. If it doesn't, then she'll probably be slightly surprised.]
Please try to sleep, though. It's not good for you to not get any sleep whatsoever, you know that. It... it makes me worry.
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