Vanessa/Amanda | Friday afternoon
Jan. 8th, 2010 08:06 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAmanda and Morgan come back into the office only for Morgan to find a letter from someone she never expected to hear from again. It's the same old song and dance, though.
"I'm only doing something that induces more paperwork if I get a hot make out scene with you this time," Morgan told her friend plainly. "I mean, it doesn't even have to be a lesbian make out scene. I could wear a guy so we attract less attention." The metamorph wore a falsely thoughtful expression while she mulled this over and wove her way through the Snow Valley offices toward her cubicle. She missed the days of not having a cubicle desperately. "If it's a lot of paperwork there might be a stipulation of heavy petting or manual stimulation here. On either end. I'm good with giving." She shot the blonde at her side a grin.
Amanda snorted, although she was trying to think of a work-related reason for such a scenario. Wasn’t there some kind of mutant adult movie shonkiness that needed investigating? “I’m sure we’ll soldier through whatever the job needs,” she replied, leering up at her taller companion. “Even if it means ‘helping’ you with your paperwork.”
"Always willing to lend a hand, that's what I like about you blondie." Morgan put her best skeezy tone into those words, passing a leer back to the other woman. "Never abandon a mate, even if you've got to put your hand down her knickers. That's the team spirit." What team, though, was the question.
“I’m a helper, what can I say?” Amanda replied mock-innocently. “I help with paperwork, I help with stakeouts, I help people out of their annoying clothes…”
"The annoying clothes might put up a fight. You've really got to be dedicated to the cause there, English." The smirk forming on her lips turned down into something quizzically frown-like when Morgan finally rounded the corner into her cubicle. There was mail. On her desk. "Since when do I get mail? Y'reckon Jubilee's decided Jake's mail gets to be redirected to me since one shapeshifter's as good as another?" Only when she drew nearer she saw the return address. It had been long enough that she didn't recognize the handwriting but Vanessa knew the address.
“With Jubes, you never know, I swear she was dropped on her head as a baby. Maybe even used as a football…” Amanda’s voice trailed away as she saw the expression on Vanessa’s face. “Is everything all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
"Pretty sure I'm not the one seeing ghosts, pet." She picked up the envelope and stared at it, wondering if maybe it would burst into flames any moment now. Vanessa didn't have a whole lot of emotion left where her mother was concerned, if she was honest. Sure, there was residual resentment and even anger but there definitely wasn't hope. Nothing fuzzy or warm lingered. "Wonder why it took Boston PD this long to tell her I was found alive. I know it didn't take this long to clear. Vanessa's been on the books here for ages. Since I joined, really."
“Police don’t tend to go looking for that sort of thing unless something happens to bring the case back to the front of their brains,” Amanda suggested. “You said ‘her’… is that from your mum?”
Morgan nodded and slipped one edge of a pair of scissors under the flap to cut the envelope open. Her mother didn't exactly have warm fuzzy feelings about her the last time Vanessa had checked either so no, she wasn't just going to stick her finger in there to rip it open. Did she think Dorothy Carlysle was capable of thinking enough to poison her via letter? No. Was she going to take that chance. "Aye, it's from my mother. If you can still qualify her as that." A single sheet of lined paper was pulled out and unfolded to reveal somewhat haphazard half-cursive, half-printed handwriting.
Vanessa didn't look all that surprised as she started to read the letter.
Amanda fidgeted slightly, unsure if she should stay or go. It was a highly personal moment, but then again, Vanessa hadn't seemed terribly concerned about it and hadn't asked her to go or anything like that. Ugh, families - you never knew where you stood with other people's. After a moment, she coughed slightly and then suggested: "Um, I can go, if you like? If you need privacy or some such?"
"Privacy?" Red eyes turned to the other woman and organ appeared completely confused as to why she would need privacy. "It's just the usual you're not my daughter, blah blah, the police say you're her but I know you're not, blah blah. Oh and she's accusing me of theft. Actually, it's about the only thing she got right in it. Only she's harping about my dad's pocket watch and Adrienne was the one who stole that."
“Oh.” Amanda blinked a couple of times. “Well, that’s all right then, I s’pose. Well, apart from the accusing you of theft. Think she’ll cause you problems?”
Morgan shrugged. "What's she going to say? 'My daughter turned into a blue demon and I think the demon in her body came and stole everything with her in it from my home, I demand you arrest her'? Technically you could argue that stuff was all mine to begin with and I'm not sure Boston PD can be seen as being that politically incorrect to arrest someone who works for the Snow Valley Center on what pretty much amounts to mutant discrimination. I mean, they let the gays marry, seeing me as a person is just as easy when you've accepted that you're condoning men fucking each other up the arse." It was entirely possible she was giving her hometown and home state a bit too much credit here. Or maybe not giving her mother enough. But Dorothy was the sort of Catholic that made other religious people give her funny looks half the time. Vanessa was pretty sure that hadn't changed.
“Well, you know this job – any kind of attention is the wrong sort.” Amanda shrugged. “She wrote you at least – sort of indicates she isn’t completely convinced you’re dead.”
"That doesn't endear her to me. Demanding the return of her 'stolen property' neither demonstrates motherly affection or inclines me to want to have it." The letter was slipped back into the envelope then tossed in the bin. Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked over at Amanda curiously. "Your attempt for optimism here suggests you think I care that she wrote me. I don't. I'm still not her daughter and I haven't been for ages." Honestly, she wasn't sure what she would do if Dorothy suddenly wanted to have a teary-eyed reunion. She'd probably pretend she never got the request, actually.
“Fair enough.” Amanda wasn’t so gung-ho on families that she thought everyone ought to have one, but she’d wanted to cover the bases at least. “So, unless she actually turns up on the doorstep with a bailiff, that’s that.” Amanda snorted. “Mind you, I figured that myself and my bloody mother went and stole my body for a bit, so you never know.”
"Aye, pretty much. Wait," she trailed off and then blinked at Amanda. Then she stared. "Your mum...stole your body? I think mine's a bit too, what's the word I'm looking for here? Oh, right, Catholic. She's too Catholic for possession. That would put her in the demon category with me and you know we can't have that. It's be against God. She'd never see da up in heaven that way, y'know."
"Margali was a witch too," Amanda explained. "Things get a bit weird when magic's involved." She tilted her head at her co-worker and friend. "So... you're really fine about all this? No need for therapeutic drinks or anything? For the trauma?" Her tone made it clear she wasn't serious, more aiming for an early lunch.
"Well..." Vanessa trailed off, expression rather considering. "It does feel like trauma, doesn't it? My own mother accusing me of breaking, entering and thieving. And even then she still doesn't recognize me as her offspring. She's still on about me being a demon who killed her little girl and took over her body. The eyes and the skin are signs of the beast, you know." She added a forlorn, melodramatic sigh. "I think I need therapeutic drinks, yeah." Amanda got big puppy eyes then. "Think you could be a mate and make sure I don't drink myself into a coma? It's a lot to ask for, you know, because you'd have to come along and all." She couldn't keep up the act and one corner of her mouth twitched upward into a bit of a smile.
"It's a tough assignment, but I think I can manage it," Amanda replied in the same vein. "I mean, we've gotta watch each other's backs and all, right?"
Morgan gave her friend a look that was in no way professional or platonic. "Mm...but there are so many things I could do while 'having your back' and drinks make all of those easier to get to..." A little half smirk and a waggle of eyebrows followed the comment.
Amanda only grinned. “Promises, promises.”
"I'm only doing something that induces more paperwork if I get a hot make out scene with you this time," Morgan told her friend plainly. "I mean, it doesn't even have to be a lesbian make out scene. I could wear a guy so we attract less attention." The metamorph wore a falsely thoughtful expression while she mulled this over and wove her way through the Snow Valley offices toward her cubicle. She missed the days of not having a cubicle desperately. "If it's a lot of paperwork there might be a stipulation of heavy petting or manual stimulation here. On either end. I'm good with giving." She shot the blonde at her side a grin.
Amanda snorted, although she was trying to think of a work-related reason for such a scenario. Wasn’t there some kind of mutant adult movie shonkiness that needed investigating? “I’m sure we’ll soldier through whatever the job needs,” she replied, leering up at her taller companion. “Even if it means ‘helping’ you with your paperwork.”
"Always willing to lend a hand, that's what I like about you blondie." Morgan put her best skeezy tone into those words, passing a leer back to the other woman. "Never abandon a mate, even if you've got to put your hand down her knickers. That's the team spirit." What team, though, was the question.
“I’m a helper, what can I say?” Amanda replied mock-innocently. “I help with paperwork, I help with stakeouts, I help people out of their annoying clothes…”
"The annoying clothes might put up a fight. You've really got to be dedicated to the cause there, English." The smirk forming on her lips turned down into something quizzically frown-like when Morgan finally rounded the corner into her cubicle. There was mail. On her desk. "Since when do I get mail? Y'reckon Jubilee's decided Jake's mail gets to be redirected to me since one shapeshifter's as good as another?" Only when she drew nearer she saw the return address. It had been long enough that she didn't recognize the handwriting but Vanessa knew the address.
“With Jubes, you never know, I swear she was dropped on her head as a baby. Maybe even used as a football…” Amanda’s voice trailed away as she saw the expression on Vanessa’s face. “Is everything all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
"Pretty sure I'm not the one seeing ghosts, pet." She picked up the envelope and stared at it, wondering if maybe it would burst into flames any moment now. Vanessa didn't have a whole lot of emotion left where her mother was concerned, if she was honest. Sure, there was residual resentment and even anger but there definitely wasn't hope. Nothing fuzzy or warm lingered. "Wonder why it took Boston PD this long to tell her I was found alive. I know it didn't take this long to clear. Vanessa's been on the books here for ages. Since I joined, really."
“Police don’t tend to go looking for that sort of thing unless something happens to bring the case back to the front of their brains,” Amanda suggested. “You said ‘her’… is that from your mum?”
Morgan nodded and slipped one edge of a pair of scissors under the flap to cut the envelope open. Her mother didn't exactly have warm fuzzy feelings about her the last time Vanessa had checked either so no, she wasn't just going to stick her finger in there to rip it open. Did she think Dorothy Carlysle was capable of thinking enough to poison her via letter? No. Was she going to take that chance. "Aye, it's from my mother. If you can still qualify her as that." A single sheet of lined paper was pulled out and unfolded to reveal somewhat haphazard half-cursive, half-printed handwriting.
Vanessa didn't look all that surprised as she started to read the letter.
Amanda fidgeted slightly, unsure if she should stay or go. It was a highly personal moment, but then again, Vanessa hadn't seemed terribly concerned about it and hadn't asked her to go or anything like that. Ugh, families - you never knew where you stood with other people's. After a moment, she coughed slightly and then suggested: "Um, I can go, if you like? If you need privacy or some such?"
"Privacy?" Red eyes turned to the other woman and organ appeared completely confused as to why she would need privacy. "It's just the usual you're not my daughter, blah blah, the police say you're her but I know you're not, blah blah. Oh and she's accusing me of theft. Actually, it's about the only thing she got right in it. Only she's harping about my dad's pocket watch and Adrienne was the one who stole that."
“Oh.” Amanda blinked a couple of times. “Well, that’s all right then, I s’pose. Well, apart from the accusing you of theft. Think she’ll cause you problems?”
Morgan shrugged. "What's she going to say? 'My daughter turned into a blue demon and I think the demon in her body came and stole everything with her in it from my home, I demand you arrest her'? Technically you could argue that stuff was all mine to begin with and I'm not sure Boston PD can be seen as being that politically incorrect to arrest someone who works for the Snow Valley Center on what pretty much amounts to mutant discrimination. I mean, they let the gays marry, seeing me as a person is just as easy when you've accepted that you're condoning men fucking each other up the arse." It was entirely possible she was giving her hometown and home state a bit too much credit here. Or maybe not giving her mother enough. But Dorothy was the sort of Catholic that made other religious people give her funny looks half the time. Vanessa was pretty sure that hadn't changed.
“Well, you know this job – any kind of attention is the wrong sort.” Amanda shrugged. “She wrote you at least – sort of indicates she isn’t completely convinced you’re dead.”
"That doesn't endear her to me. Demanding the return of her 'stolen property' neither demonstrates motherly affection or inclines me to want to have it." The letter was slipped back into the envelope then tossed in the bin. Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked over at Amanda curiously. "Your attempt for optimism here suggests you think I care that she wrote me. I don't. I'm still not her daughter and I haven't been for ages." Honestly, she wasn't sure what she would do if Dorothy suddenly wanted to have a teary-eyed reunion. She'd probably pretend she never got the request, actually.
“Fair enough.” Amanda wasn’t so gung-ho on families that she thought everyone ought to have one, but she’d wanted to cover the bases at least. “So, unless she actually turns up on the doorstep with a bailiff, that’s that.” Amanda snorted. “Mind you, I figured that myself and my bloody mother went and stole my body for a bit, so you never know.”
"Aye, pretty much. Wait," she trailed off and then blinked at Amanda. Then she stared. "Your mum...stole your body? I think mine's a bit too, what's the word I'm looking for here? Oh, right, Catholic. She's too Catholic for possession. That would put her in the demon category with me and you know we can't have that. It's be against God. She'd never see da up in heaven that way, y'know."
"Margali was a witch too," Amanda explained. "Things get a bit weird when magic's involved." She tilted her head at her co-worker and friend. "So... you're really fine about all this? No need for therapeutic drinks or anything? For the trauma?" Her tone made it clear she wasn't serious, more aiming for an early lunch.
"Well..." Vanessa trailed off, expression rather considering. "It does feel like trauma, doesn't it? My own mother accusing me of breaking, entering and thieving. And even then she still doesn't recognize me as her offspring. She's still on about me being a demon who killed her little girl and took over her body. The eyes and the skin are signs of the beast, you know." She added a forlorn, melodramatic sigh. "I think I need therapeutic drinks, yeah." Amanda got big puppy eyes then. "Think you could be a mate and make sure I don't drink myself into a coma? It's a lot to ask for, you know, because you'd have to come along and all." She couldn't keep up the act and one corner of her mouth twitched upward into a bit of a smile.
"It's a tough assignment, but I think I can manage it," Amanda replied in the same vein. "I mean, we've gotta watch each other's backs and all, right?"
Morgan gave her friend a look that was in no way professional or platonic. "Mm...but there are so many things I could do while 'having your back' and drinks make all of those easier to get to..." A little half smirk and a waggle of eyebrows followed the comment.
Amanda only grinned. “Promises, promises.”
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Date: 2010-01-09 06:56 am (UTC)