whatmatters | ♜ IC Contact [UNDERGROUND]

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♜ IC Contact [UNDERGROUND]

"This is Ringer."

[Faolan doesn't care that this is totally out of the blue, he doesn't care that she probably even forgot who he is or what he might be calling about, he's calling her and he's going to be hella nonchalant about it to boot.]

So about those bolts that you mentioned... Might need them sooner rather than later, as it turns out. Don't suppose the offer is still on the table for them?

[Her voice has a minor strain to it, the type to come from exhaustion or other such things. Otherwise it's about as dry as the first time they spoke.]

..For the crossbow. Faolan?

Got it in one.

[A beat, before:] You sound like shit. What happened?

[Ever a man with observational skill, not necessarily a man with tact, however.]

Nothing. [The kind of nothing that's an overt lie.]

I'll send you my address, but I can't meet until next week. I'm a little preoccupied.

Sure. Go ahead.

[Like hell he's going to listen to that. But she doesn't have to know that until later. And by then it will be far too late.]

[There's a short silence as she texts the address, a relatively nice neighborhood but not crazy opulent, in the Kentish Town/Camden area.]

There's my address. I will give you the bolts like I said I would. I'll call you when I'm available.

Do you swear to it? I'm not going to end up having to call you back in another few weeks and remind you again, am I?

[Yeah, no, he's definitely going to be heading over there. SORRY BUT NOT SORRY.]

[A pause. Ringer hates guaranteeing anything.]

I promise.

[Believe him, Faolan feels the same way. Which is part of the reason why he hasn't guaranteed anything about not showing up at her door, not truly.]

Good. I'll be seeing you around, then. [Sooner than you think, even.]

[A beat, then Ringer hangs up.]

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♜ IC Contact [UNDERGROUND]

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