Remy & Betsy; a quick phone call
Apr. 11th, 2006 03:44 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsRemy receives an expected long-distance phone call from Betsy.
"Piece of merde." Remy grumbled, tapping the phone against the table a few times before trying to dial again. The problem with cheap untracable disposible phones was that they were still cheap disposible phones. Finally he heard the ring change over to the interrnational call and connection.
"'bout damn time." Remy muttered, waving for another drink from the bar and wishing he could still smoke inside. "Betts?"
"The one and only." Hearing the ire in his voice, Betsy smiled into the phone. She tried to keep her voice leveled as she spoke, still grinning. "Having a rough time of it, luv?"
"I'm in New York freezing to death. What do you think?" Remy said, leaning back in his seat and accepting the new drink. "Talked to Wisdom yet?"
"Yes," she paused for the briefest of moments. The hesitation evident. "Yes, I have." Betsy cleared her throat, as she straightened up in her seat in what was once her father's study. "Wait. What are you doing in New York?"
"Had some business to attend to before heading over to London. Speaking off, how are your contacts wit' dat branch of de HFC over dere. As Remy recall, aren't you still a member?" An overweight tourist jostled Remy's table as he went back, nearly spilling his drink on rhe stack of files and his laptop. Remy fought down the urge to kill him with a kinetically energized icecube.
"Tepid," Betsy responded, matter-of-factly. "At best. Excluding the fact that I'm on the outs with some of the members, at the moment, not that anyone isn't at one particular time. And please, don't get me started on the internal politics of the London chapter ...." Betsy stopped, realizing that she was rambling. " But more to the point, I'm still a member. It's a birthright not a yearly subscription, Rem."
"Dat's right. Born wit' a silver bastard in you mouth." Remy tapped the files in front of him for a moment. "De thing is dat my contacts in England aren't great, and Wisdom's already burned up his. I'm thinking if he's pissed off de right kinds of people, den de London Chapter might know something 'bout it or maybe be involved. Sound 'bout right?"
"My!" Betsy exclaimed. "And here, I'd almost forgotten how funny you weren't." Picking up a pen from the desk, Betsy began tapping it at a furtive pace as she spoke. "But you're right, I would. Your contacts are shite against mine and well, Pete'd be lucky if his don't shoot him on sight. So, yea. If some of them were plotting, I don't think it'd be too hard to find out about it."
"Dat's likely our first place to start. I'll let Pete and 'manda figure out how to approach Romany's coven people. I'm trying to isolate if Shaw or any of his people are involved, but right now, it looks pretty quiet." Remy opened up his laptop and tapped a few buttons. "I'm sending de information I've dug up so far. See what you can do and we can touch base in a few days once I'm over dere."
"We both know looks can deceiving," Betsy countered. She sighed, absentmindedly chewing on the top of her pen. "I should get back to you with something substantial by Thursday, if not earlier. You know where to find me." Her voice took on a softness to it, as she continued. "Oh and Rem, you're more than welcome to stay here, if need be."
Remy pulled up the last e-mail she'd sent, with the old modeling shot of her from behind, wearing heels and whatever the latest underwear fashion had been. He sighed. "Sorry, Betts. Think it might be best if Remy get a hotel room." His grin turned devilish. "But I'll pass your offer along to Wisdom. Sure dat he take you up on dat."
"Make sure that he does." Betsy said with a rich laugh. " He could do with a little pampering and so could you. But I'll pick my battles when it comes to you two lumps."
"Merci, chere. And now Remy must away to de bowels of dese files and den hurt some people to make sure dat Shaw knows when he's been beat. See you in a few days." Remy said, clicking off the phone. After a moments reflection, he underarmed it across the bar and into the garbage can beside the wait station. The waitress gave him a startled look, to which he returned a wicked smile. "T'ree points, chere. Dat's deserves another drink."
"Piece of merde." Remy grumbled, tapping the phone against the table a few times before trying to dial again. The problem with cheap untracable disposible phones was that they were still cheap disposible phones. Finally he heard the ring change over to the interrnational call and connection.
"'bout damn time." Remy muttered, waving for another drink from the bar and wishing he could still smoke inside. "Betts?"
"The one and only." Hearing the ire in his voice, Betsy smiled into the phone. She tried to keep her voice leveled as she spoke, still grinning. "Having a rough time of it, luv?"
"I'm in New York freezing to death. What do you think?" Remy said, leaning back in his seat and accepting the new drink. "Talked to Wisdom yet?"
"Yes," she paused for the briefest of moments. The hesitation evident. "Yes, I have." Betsy cleared her throat, as she straightened up in her seat in what was once her father's study. "Wait. What are you doing in New York?"
"Had some business to attend to before heading over to London. Speaking off, how are your contacts wit' dat branch of de HFC over dere. As Remy recall, aren't you still a member?" An overweight tourist jostled Remy's table as he went back, nearly spilling his drink on rhe stack of files and his laptop. Remy fought down the urge to kill him with a kinetically energized icecube.
"Tepid," Betsy responded, matter-of-factly. "At best. Excluding the fact that I'm on the outs with some of the members, at the moment, not that anyone isn't at one particular time. And please, don't get me started on the internal politics of the London chapter ...." Betsy stopped, realizing that she was rambling. " But more to the point, I'm still a member. It's a birthright not a yearly subscription, Rem."
"Dat's right. Born wit' a silver bastard in you mouth." Remy tapped the files in front of him for a moment. "De thing is dat my contacts in England aren't great, and Wisdom's already burned up his. I'm thinking if he's pissed off de right kinds of people, den de London Chapter might know something 'bout it or maybe be involved. Sound 'bout right?"
"My!" Betsy exclaimed. "And here, I'd almost forgotten how funny you weren't." Picking up a pen from the desk, Betsy began tapping it at a furtive pace as she spoke. "But you're right, I would. Your contacts are shite against mine and well, Pete'd be lucky if his don't shoot him on sight. So, yea. If some of them were plotting, I don't think it'd be too hard to find out about it."
"Dat's likely our first place to start. I'll let Pete and 'manda figure out how to approach Romany's coven people. I'm trying to isolate if Shaw or any of his people are involved, but right now, it looks pretty quiet." Remy opened up his laptop and tapped a few buttons. "I'm sending de information I've dug up so far. See what you can do and we can touch base in a few days once I'm over dere."
"We both know looks can deceiving," Betsy countered. She sighed, absentmindedly chewing on the top of her pen. "I should get back to you with something substantial by Thursday, if not earlier. You know where to find me." Her voice took on a softness to it, as she continued. "Oh and Rem, you're more than welcome to stay here, if need be."
Remy pulled up the last e-mail she'd sent, with the old modeling shot of her from behind, wearing heels and whatever the latest underwear fashion had been. He sighed. "Sorry, Betts. Think it might be best if Remy get a hotel room." His grin turned devilish. "But I'll pass your offer along to Wisdom. Sure dat he take you up on dat."
"Make sure that he does." Betsy said with a rich laugh. " He could do with a little pampering and so could you. But I'll pick my battles when it comes to you two lumps."
"Merci, chere. And now Remy must away to de bowels of dese files and den hurt some people to make sure dat Shaw knows when he's been beat. See you in a few days." Remy said, clicking off the phone. After a moments reflection, he underarmed it across the bar and into the garbage can beside the wait station. The waitress gave him a startled look, to which he returned a wicked smile. "T'ree points, chere. Dat's deserves another drink."
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