Morgan & Manuel | Monday late morning

[x-copycat.livejournal.com]

Manuel calls to check on Morgan in his way. He's not exactly reassured.

"You are in Africa." He tone was less than amused.

"Congratulations. You win most observant guy of the year!" Morgan's voice was different than usual. Her usual Irish-Boston accent had dropped the Irish almost entirely.

"Your journal log was very vague. Woman of few words, even less with details." Manuel paused thoughtfully. "You sound different. They must be keeping you busy."

"Actually, I'm pretty much sitting around with my thumb up my ass waiting for Ea and Thom to get back with ammunition supplies while Mike gets it on with some local hooker he swears he's in love with. He does this everywhere." She fell silent when an explosion went off a block away. "I'm not working, though."

"What was that?" Manuel asked casually, though from the lengthy pause, it could be said that he was trying to decipher what was more interesting, Mike or whatever was going on in the background

"Which bit? The moaning or the explosion?"

"You said you were not working. Unless the moaning has much to do with the explosion?"

"The moaning is the whore," she told him with a casual tone that suggested this was old hat. "She's faking it. Mike doesn't care. Bitch can moan louder than the fucking bomb going off, though. And I'm not. They are."

"If she was not faking it, I would be envious." Manuel rested a hand on the desk and bounced a pen between his fingers. "And those explosions? They are not as close as they sound, I would assume?"

"That depends," the twisting smirk of her lips was nearly audible, "how close do they sound?"

"You really do need to consider that job offer. Picturing you without legs is not as colourful as I thought."

"It's really too bad the one of us with a healing factor is the only one not alive anymore. I reckon I could have grown legs back with Aleister about." She sounded slightly amused but otherwise unfazed. "This is my life, Manuel. It has been for nearly a decade. It's not nearly so scary to me."

"That is disturbing. Did you just say 'I reckon'?"

"Aye."

"How very rural of you." He took up the pen more and wrote a small list. "You are not in a mimic are you? I am curious as to why you are not working and what it is that they are doing to cause so much noise?"

She wasn't sure what the rural comment was supposed to mean so Morgan let it slide. "Yeah, I am. I just didn't take it deeply enough to copy their vocal chords. I am not working because it is not my contract and they are attempting to kill each other. That's kind of the point of the bombs. Blow people up, they die, end up in pieces, fewer people trying to kill you."

"Considering your situation, your conversational tone is far too casual for my comfort. Try not to die. It would be very tragic to have you shipped back in different boxes. I've written you a small list," he dragged a finger down, reading each detail one by one. "It is several things I want from you before you die. However, you will have to come home to retrieve it."

Morgan blinked into the space in front of her, not focusing on anything. "Wait, what? You made a list? Of things you want from me? Like reclaiming the bow so it doesn't get passed onto someone else or are we talking like my favorite throwing knives?" She figured it was best to not point out that if she was blown up they wouldn't be shipping her to the States at all.

Leaning back, he folded the list up, placed it in the drawer for later. "I suppose you will not know unless you return. The bow is yours, if you die, it will stay with you or whoever picks it up. No, these are more of personal requests, if you will. I have to go now, do normal things, Morgan, like pick Valentia up from school. It is her first day in private school. Apparently they take children at the age of 3 and her case was nothing new to them. I would have her draw you a picture for your return, however, we wouldn't want to be assuming anything too early."

"Be a bit more of a drama queen, Manuel." She was rolling her eyes at him as well. Too bad she couldn't glare at him. Her current school marmish appearance would have glared rather well. "Say hi to little bit for me. Tell her she's in for some serious story time when I get back. I've not died yet, I don't plan on getting myself killed when I'm only here on personal business."

"Regardless, I would not want to disappoint a little girl. Her feelings are much stronger and easier to focus on than everyone else. Do take care." Manuel hung up the phone and got up. He didn't want to be late.

She was about to say something about what a pessimist he was but the line went dead. Morgan glared at her phone while she listened to Mike's whore scream the worst faked orgasm Vanessa had ever heard in her life. "Fucking amateurs."