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Post by Emily Wyatt on Dec 14, 2010 22:52:28 GMT -8
Emily nodded. What York suggested made sense to her. He didn't know Greenvale and its citizens like they did so it would be important for him to meet the populace and figure out all the social connections. It might be useful to set up a town meeting so York could meet everyone. She will have to bring up that idea with George a little later.
She glance back at George and was disappointed too see he still had an annoyed look on his face. Obviously he wasn't convinced. Inwardly she sighed looks like it was up to her to get a list for the Agent and give it to him discretely somehow. There was no need for anyone's ego or a turf war to hinder this murder investigation any further! Besides, George didn't have to know she gave it to him he's FBI after all. They are resourceful lot it's not a stretch to think he was able to find out for himself. Right?
When Tamika popped her head Emily was happy for the pleasant and momentary break from the rising tension in the room.
A ride huh? Well from the way George is glaring at York she didn't think he would make it to the hotel without additional injuries!
Before George could say anything Emily smiled at Tamika and said, "Don't worry Tamika I'll take him to the Deer Yard once everything settles here. You should go and get yourself home and get some much needed rest. Oh and before you go..."
Emily walked towards the petite girl lowered her voice in hopes that George and York wouldn't over hear, "Hey I didn't get to apologize properly earlier. So sorry about smacking you with the door like that, I hope you can forgive me!"
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 15, 2010 2:02:29 GMT -8
If she was dreaming… then Charlotte did not wish to wake. She wanted to wrap this moment around them and keep it forever. If someone had mentioned that the weird and terrifying day she’d had would end like this she would have thought them delusional. But here she was, sitting on a hospital bed… and he was looking at her like she was important to him. As important as he is to me... This was new territory for her, a vast ocean of newness… but instead of drowning… she was floating.
David pressed a kiss to the long healed scar on her brow, making her smile. She couldn’t stop herself from touching him… nor did she particularly want to try. She cupped his face in her hands, gently caressing his skin with her fingertips (the only part of her thoroughly bandaged hands NOT covered in gauze).
“I think I can do that,” she said. Charlotte leaned forward and kissed him again. Pulling back a little she added, “We do want you to have an enjoyable vacation."
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Post by Tamika Weir on Dec 15, 2010 4:55:45 GMT -8
"Holy crap! Is this courtesy he's actually showing! It's the end of the world!". Though he did insist on making a comment on me not being very feminine so maybe it balances out."
Smiling at Emily, Tamika said back just as quietly,"Don't worry about about it. Today's been a bit crazy and compared to it all, you hitting me with a door wouldn't be considered the biggest problem I've had today."
Speaking normally she added, "And thanks for agreeing to take York to the hotel. Just to warn you, he can be a bit..." Tamika moved her hand in a circular motion as if sifting through all the words that could describe York, "...inconsiderate."
After saying this, Tamika left while calling back, "Have a good night, Emily! And York, get a shower. You smell horrid." Heading through the hospital, she eventually found an exit and made it through the rain back to her Celica. Then she pulled out into the still rainy night, hoping that Emily would not have too miserable a time driving York.
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George Woodman
Junior Member
I won't rest until I've inspected every suspicious nook and cranny!
Posts: 94
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Post by George Woodman on Dec 15, 2010 6:23:25 GMT -8
George may have been a hardass, but he was far from unreasonable. Emily wanted to know why he wanted a list of the other people in the ER and George was willing to give Agent Morgan the benefit of the doubt: if he could prove that they somehow related to the case, he'd allow him to know the name.
However, his words failed to convince him. Between his poetic nonsense and the fact that he mentioned "it's just how I do things", his attitude annoyed him.
"Well, you may do things you own way back in the city, but here in Greenvale, we do things my way." George said, making sure that Agent Morgan knew who was really in charge.
He still allowed the Agent to continue. His reasoned seemed to sum up to wanting to make connections with the townsfolk. "Fair enough, but that still doesn't explain why you absolutely need to do it right now." he thought.
"I understand that you want to meet these people, but they aren't going anywhere. You'll have plenty of time to play meet and greet after they fully recover. I'm afraid my answer remains the same: no dice, Agent Morgan." he said.
Around this time, a young redheaded girl entered the room. He recognized her as the same one that bumped into him earlier. "Who is she, and how she know Emily?" he wondered while they talked to each other in whispers. She appeared to be leaving the hospital. One of the things he noted was that she called Agent Morgan inconsiderate. "Understatement of the Century." he thought.
After the girl left, he still wondered who that girl was. "She doesn't seem to have any relation to other patients here, but apparently met Agent Morgan before entering town. I'll want to chat with her about that if I get the time." he thought.
The darker George then took his turn. "Another pretty out of towner. Seemed like she was from a desperate background as well. I wonder if I could convince her to join...."
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 15, 2010 14:25:41 GMT -8
Henning was beginning to feel the fatigue of the evening catch up to him, but at the same time it was more like sinking into a warm bath than the neutral state of unconsciousness he usually understood to be sleep. Everything- Anna Graham, the police, the nightmares, the lumber mill Agent York, his accident... It all lay on the other side of the door. But here, in this room, it was just the light touch of Charlotte's fingertips brushing his face, and her voice, amused and lighthearted, qualities he wasn't used to hearing from people when they addressed him... Something was buzzing... She was kissing him... The buzzing stopped...
Damn.
He pulled out his cell phone, which had been set to Vibrate and ignored in the confusion. Three missed calls, all from the same number. He held the phone to his ear, listened briefly. Still looking into Charlotte's eyes, he whispered, "Sorry, I wish this were unrelated to us, but it appears the hawk man you met in the graveyard was serious about my offer to talk... Remember how I told you to stay away from him? Well, if there's a chance that he's connected with whatever happened to you tonight, I'll be able to tell you all about it... If not... He might still have information relevant to my colleagues' interests back at the Bureau. I'll know by tomorrow morning, anyway."
He sighed, put his phone down, noticing how light it felt compared to the weight of the camera. Then he grinned tiredly at Charlotte. "But we can worry about all that later. As much as I'd hate to see those blue eyes of yours close for any reason, you really ought to get some rest, Charlotte... I'll ask York or the Sheriff about getting us back to the hotel in the morning."
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Post by Francis York Morgan on Dec 15, 2010 14:57:03 GMT -8
York merely waved at Tamika as she exited the room; it appeared as if she and Emily knew each other, from the way they were talking. He imagined that this was to be expected in a town this size, everyone on familiar terms, calling each other by their first names... Just as George had said, the ways of Greenvale were different than in the city. Well, he'd already gotten in the habit of calling everyone by their first name, so that was a start.
<It doesn't seem to be making much of an impression on the Sheriff, though. He's like a granite boulder.>
That's a pretty accurate comparison, though I doubt you could ever find a mustache like that in nature. He seems to doubt the seriousness of our request... Well, if he thinks we're playing games, why not join in the fun? It's our move, Zach.
As George was reiterating his refusal to name the other patients, York was drawing the sheets off his legs and carefully swinging them over the side of the bed. Good thing the doctor hadn't come back yet; there was still time. He tucked the leftover stabilizers in his back pocket and began to stand up.
"That's all right, George, I won't bother them if they're in need of rest and privacy," he said, holding up a hand in case anyone tried to help him. "I completely understand. However, I seem to have lost a precious pack of cigarettes in the crash, and I think I spotted some in the vending machine in the lobby... I'll be right back. No need to follow me. It's not my legs that are giving me trouble, after all..."
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 15, 2010 15:17:43 GMT -8
“I don’t think he had anything to do with what happened to me at the lumber mill. But… better to know for certain, I guess. Be careful, okay?” She intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed his hand gently. She wanted to go with him, but knew that she wouldn’t be able to. He wouldn’t have anyone to watch his back, and that worried her. She didn’t think Wes would do anything, but the way he had warned her away from him…
Charlotte answered David’s tired grin with one of her own. She should rest, she knew she should rest… but her gut told her that if she were to have any dreams at all… they were liable to be nightmares, and doozies at that. She didn't want to revisit things more than she already had in telling the story. You can’t stay awake forever… With one last feather light kiss, she slid over on the hospital bed. It might be a tight fit, but there should be room enough for the both of them.
“I’m not the only one that needs to rest… and I’m not letting you sleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. Not when there’s enough space up here.”
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Post by Emily Wyatt on Dec 15, 2010 17:18:03 GMT -8
After York left the room for some cigarettes Emily looked to George and gave him a smile.
"Some night huh?" She laughed. "You know I don't think think I've ever seen the hospital this busy before! It's unfortunate all of our visitors are winding up in here. Definitely won't help the tourism here..."
Now that Agent York is finally here it means we can get started on the Anna investigation! You have any idea what the game plan will be for tomorrow?"
Emily paused, "Oh yes...how were Agent Henning and Charlotte? Was the latter up and talking when you checked back in?"
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George Woodman
Junior Member
I won't rest until I've inspected every suspicious nook and cranny!
Posts: 94
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Post by George Woodman on Dec 15, 2010 17:44:50 GMT -8
Agent Morgan had gotten up to leave the room. "I can't say I approve of the way he treated that nurse, but as long as I can take a break from that man, fine by me." he thought.
Emily looked to him. Her blonde hair, bright eyes, divine smile, everything about her. Beautiful. It was a shame that he couldn't have her. Still, she had questions, and he needed to give answers.
"Tell me about it. Ever since the murder of Anna Graham, this town's been going to hell. It's almost like her death signalled a premonition..." he paused. "A deadly premonition..."
He stretched a bit and tried to stifle a yawn. He then laid down tomorrow's plan. "We didn't need to wait for Agent Morgan. We're perfectly capable of investing crimes without being babysat. Still, we have quite a bit we have to go over with Agent Morgan. First, the case files, and then we have to do the autopsy. Not my favorite part, but it has to be done."
"Charlotte seems to be recovering. However, I didn't really find out much more that I didn't already know. It seems her memory blanked out before, leaving me in the dark." he said.
"I'm heading back home. Feel free to stick around if you wish. If you think you can find out anything more from the guests here, then by all means do so. However, remember to be at the department tomorrow at 10:00 sharp. I'll see you later, Emily." he waved to her and then left the hospital.
He entered his black truck and stared ahead. This night wasn't easy, and the days ahead of him would get even harder. Still, he was ready. He had to be...
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Post by Emily Wyatt on Dec 15, 2010 20:20:41 GMT -8
Emily nodded. "Okay got it George, see ya tomorrow! I'll take care of finishing things here. You go have good night's rest! I'll see you back at the department tomorrow."
With George gone there really wasn't much she could do besides stare at the bland hospital wall art. Emily checked her watch, York had been gone a full 5 minute now, how long does it take to get a pack of cigarettes from a vending machine practically around the corner any-...
Wait a minute. Cigarettes?
That son of a...
She couldn't believe it. How could they have been so stupid! Why the hell would a hospital of all places have a vending machine for cancer sticks. Emily rolled her eyes over how gullible they had been. York's probably wandering the halls to go bother the other patients while she stood here tweedling her thumbs!
Very clever York...Look's like you probably won't need need me to sneak that patient list to you after all...
Emily bolted from the empty hospital room and prayed she could locate him before he caused too much of a ruckus for the other patients.
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Post by Francis York Morgan on Dec 15, 2010 23:12:38 GMT -8
York ambled down the hall in the vague direction of the lobby, pleasantly surprised that neither of the two police officers had followed him. "My, Zach. For all the suspicious looks George has been shooting us, he certainly didn't seem too curious about our intentions. This investigation might go more smoothly than I'd thought."
<Why would he be suspicious?> the inner voice replied. <We're just going to get you some cigarettes. And besides, we don't even know if we're going to get involved in this case yet...>
"If it isn't an RSP, then this assignment magically transforms into a paid-for vacation. Not a bad trick, if you can pull it off... And what have we here, Zach?"
He pulled up short, spotting light from an open door spilling into the dark hallway up ahead. Zach bade him look both ways, checking for nurses who might pose an obstacle- All clear. York wandered up to the doorway and peered in at the room's single occupant.
"Hi there, FBI Special Agent Francis York Morgan!" he called out, badge upraised and preceding the rest of him into the room. "But you can call me York, everyone calls me that. I promised Sheriff George that I wouldn't bother anyone who was in need of rest or privacy; but I'm assuming that wouldn't include you, since your door was wide open to germs and random passerby. So what's up? If you're at a loss for words, saying your name would be an excellent first pass."
York flipped his badge shut and finally took a closer look at the curly-haired man sitting up in the bed. Bandages thickly covered his left shoulder, but aside from that, he didn't look especially injured; maybe a little dazed and/or bored, it was hard to tell. There was a white box sitting on his lap, contents unknown.
"Look at that, Zach!" he whispered, fingers to his temple. "The two of us, birds with the same wing down. Bad luck for him if he's a southpaw, but at least he wouldn't be burned as a witch in today's enlightened society. This isn't the Middle Ages, after all... Though the Sheriff certainly wears his black Stetson like a jewel-encrusted crown."
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 16, 2010 11:18:34 GMT -8
"You know, that nurse isn't going to like this one bit if she catches us." Even as he said this, he was already taking off his shoes and sliding them under the bed, mind reeling with the strangeness of Charlotte's offer. It wasn't the act of getting into bed with a woman itself that was unfamiliar... But with both of them fully clothed, surrounded by the antiseptic smell of the hospital, right after what he could only describe as a near-death experience, the sensation felt... odd. He lay stiffly by her side, holding her hand and gazing up at the ceiling. It ocurred to him to say something, so he pointed upwards, remarked in a faux-authoritative voice:
"And that one up there is Ursa Minor. Also known as the Little Bear. The ceiling tiles look particularly lovely tonight, don't they, dear?"
He dropped his arm, blinked. "Maybe I'm just a little punch-drunk, but that felt like the right thing to say. You know how in movies and stuff, there's always that one scene where the couple are looking up at the stars together, naming constellations... I always thought it was stupid, but now I realize that sometimes you have to go with what feels right. Even if it's a cliche."
My God, he realized. I'm even starting to talk like him. I can only hope he doesn't know I'm here yet... I don't want to be taken off guard like last time.
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Post by Atlas on Dec 16, 2010 11:43:24 GMT -8
Not much was occuring for Atlas. On one hand, he was glad that not only did someone else see the Shadows, but also that someone agreed to help him stop them. He didn't know why he was so determined to stop them, but he had a little time to think. Ever since his name was spoiled during that fateful case, he'd been in Greenvale trying to find someway he could make a difference for the better. If it was fighting supernatural beings that haunted the town and even caused a homicidal massacre 50 years ago, than so be it.
He took his laptop and typed out a letter to Mister Stewart. Admittedly, it was to his manservant Michael Tillotson, but his intended recipient hid behind him. He would be ready to meet him anytime, anywhere.
As he put his laptop aside, a well-dressed man bearing a peculiar scar walked in. Immediately, he pulled out a badge and called out his name. FBI Special Agent Francis York Morgan, though he prefers to go by York. Atlas was taken aback at first. He wasn't expecting anyone else in the room, except for maybe Emily one last time, but certainly not this man. He recognized the name as well. "This must be the York guy that Tamika was talking about. She said he had issues with manners and I can see why. Still, I'm one to talk. I shall listen to what this guy has to say. Not like I have a choice." he thought.
"To be honest, I would say the rest and privacy would be nice, but I can't sleep at all and I'm bored out of my skull." Atlas replied. "Since you told me your name, I shall tell you mine." he added. He reached into his pocket to take out his wallet. He flipped it open, revealing his driver's license.
"Atticus Lasseter, Attorney at Law. You can call me Atlas. It's what my friends call me." he said, and then put his wallet away.
"So I take it you're the FBI guy I heard rumors about." he said to the scarface. "I'll help you with your investigation as best I can, though to be honest, I never really knew Anna Graham. I only moved here a year ago."
Tamika also said that he could see the shadows. Also she didn't want him involved, Atlas still wanted to know what this man knew.
"So, I see we both have scars from battle." he said. "So how did your tango with the nightlife go?"
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 16, 2010 12:21:46 GMT -8
Charlotte realized seconds after making the offer just how awkward it might have sounded. Fuck. I should have just kept my mouth shut. Next time THINK first. She hadn’t meant it the way that it sounded, of course. She’d just been thinking how uncomfortable the hospital chairs are… and how she didn’t want him forcing himself to sleep in one because of her. He was laying so stiffly beside her that he might very well have been more comfortable in one of them, though. Feeling awkward and stupid she shifted onto her side. Her body protested, especially the bruises. Think I may have to go ahead with the ice filled bathtub when I get back to the hotel.
She blinked when David pointed at the ceiling and started talking about Ursa Minor. A lop-sided, amused smile appeared on her face. “Well, we can avoid the constellation-naming, if you’d like. Though if it feels like the right thing…” She half shrugged, trailing off.
Then, suddenly serious, she rose up on an elbow. It wasn’t exactly the smartest move for someone with cracked ribs, even taped ones, but Charlotte ignored the stab of pain. Without realising it she started tracing circles on his hand with her thumb again. Awkward, apologetic circles. The desire to duck outside, to steal a few moments alone to try and gather herself suddenly flared to life.
“You don’t have to, you know,” she told him. “Stay..." Don't say 'in bed with me'. "up here with me, I mean." She patted the bed awkwardly, with a small, self-conscious smile. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I… just didn’t want you sleeping in a hospital chair because of me.”
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Post by Francis York Morgan on Dec 16, 2010 12:30:53 GMT -8
York brightened, snapped his fingers. "To Kill A Mockingbird, directed by Robert Mulligan in 1962! An American classic. To tell you the truth, I'm not as well-versed in the black-and-white films as I ought to be, but the ones I have seen more than hold up to the stuff Hollywood churns out nowadays."
He ducked his head slightly, murmured under his breath, "And he's a lawyer, just like the character in the movie. What a strange coincidence. Could the name and his profession be an example of self-fulfilling prophecy, Zach?"
<First he says he wouldn't mind being left alone, then he implies he'd rather be talking to us than sleeping,> the voice pondered. <Either he's full of contradictions, or just a complex individual. Still, he seems helpful enough...>
Addressing Atlas directly, York replied, "I'm surprised that there are already rumors going on about me when I've only just arrived, but thank you for taking an interest in the investigation. Unfortunately we're not certain how involved we're actually going to be, and beyond that I'm not really at liberty to say anything. That includes where this scar came from, although if you see me around town later on, I might be able to say what happened. Nice to see another working professional in the field of justice, however, especially in a place like Greenvale."
Speaking of which... Zach, what kind of nightclub around here would be exciting enough to give someone a scar, just from dancing? I was under the impression that the local pastimes were far tamer. A thoughtful pause. I wonder if they'd play Pat Benatar's 'Love Is a Battlefield' on the dance floor if I requested it...
<That would be... appropriate.>
"Yeah," York said out loud, all but lost in imagining the scenario. "It would, wouldn't it?"
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