May 04, 2006 17:23
This is her third congressional hearing this week. Yesterday she was a twelve year old missing his lower legs, tomorrow she'll be a dock worker with fungus growing in his lungs, but right now, she's deliciously blue again.
The boys are out on assignment. She doesn't expect them back for another three days. For once, she has the entire lair to
morph
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Tom's been thanking a very good detail for memory that he can remember the phone numbers of who he needs to call. Speed dial and contact lists are for amateurs. He just hopes she's somewhere, anywhere near a phone when she calls.
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Her private line? What the hell now. She picks it up on the third ring.
"Uma's House of Fashion."
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"Shit!" But he holds on for a moment, checking the phone batteries again. "Raven, this isn't any time for jokes."
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"Thomas?" The boys know how to respond to the codephrase. "You sound like crap."
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"What state is it in?"
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She pops a pair of bath oil beads in her mouth and chews meditatively. He won't be able to get through bars on his own, and the idea is not to draw too much attention. She packs her acid kit.
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((I leave for a business trip on Sunday and will spend most of Saturday packing and cleaning house. I don't know when I can commit to a breakout scene. :( ))
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(( Perfectly fine. I don't mind playing him in the asylum for a few weeks, and if you can't find time this was still fun. ))
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