ArchivedLogs:Cats to Cream

Cats to Cream
Dramatis Personae Emma, Parley
In Absentia	2013-03-20 '
Location
RING RING RING "This is Parley." "This is Emma Frost. I'm returning your call." "I recognized the number." Parley sounds oddly pleased by this. He exhales, a touch shakily. "I met with Osborn." "I was wondering about that - what with the news," Emma exhales, pausing briefly, "but I couldn't be sure he didn't just jump on the information himself without consulting you." "No, we--," Parley's voice drops lower, pauses for a moment where there's the background sound of a door closing. "--consulted. Sorry. Mr. Holland was actually just in my apartment, actually. Tss." Emma can be heard letting out a long breath, as she allows the silence to pass between them for a second. "Are you okay?" "I don't really think 'okay' describes people like you and I." Parley admits. "But there was no daring escape. I've had enough of those to last me. He's interested. We shook hands. I left. He only passingly considered locking the door." "...I don't think words can describe. What is it, in him." "I could show you at some point what it looks like inside his head, but it would give a face to... that... and you probably don't want that." Emma gives another pause, one full of thought and then adds with a small, dry laugh in her tone. "And Claire wanted to know how I could possibly be involved. How do you explain to someone like her that there really isn't always a choice?" "I think you're underestimating my curiosity. I feel like I /should/ see. Claire..." A sort of temporary warmth burrs Parley's voice, distant, quiet, "Claire's taken a side." A thoughtful pause, "It's not a side I would mind seeing win someday, maybe. I suppose neither of us had to wind up here. I'm surrounded by people that I do not expect are going to be terribly fond of me in the near future for it." "Fine, I will show you the face of the creature." There is a small, slightly pained noise, one that generally accompanies stretching heard on the other end as Emma gives up. "Oh, I suppose I could have quit my job and gone back to engineering, pretending that it would keep me safe, but that life was quite boring." "But /then/." Parley purrs. It's not a sentence fragment. That's it in entirety, all the myriad inquiries trailing off the end in banners. 'But then...' There's the sound of a quiet rumble of an elevator in the background. Finally: "Hmm. Mutants involved in mutant counter-technology. Osborn's mind is pure poison, but I can't deny that he has interesting ideas. Ssss. My fur is still on end." "That brings up a question I have been wanting to ask you: how... feline are you? How much of you is covered in fur? Should I be bringing you milk? Forgive me, I don't actually know that much about cats either." And from Emma's tone, she's not going to research them. "I would consider myself moderately furry. I can show you if you like," you can hear a sort of bemused smile through Parley's voice, "Though I wouldn't leave milk out unless you wanted me to stay. Where are you." "I'm still at the office." Emma straightens up, her chair creaking. "And I can't keep you yet. You've got other goals, remember?" "Yes, yes." Parley's light mutter is heard over a passing breeze, the honk of a car horn. "You know, I can't help but feel this is likely going to end poorly down the road. Is it wrong that I'm excited?" "I don't know. Has your existence been so bad you are thrilled by its impending end? Or are you excited about the chase before that?" Someone opens the door in Emma's office. There is a clinking of dishes and she thanks them politely. "Are those my only options?" Parley inquires. And then: "Cheese or no cheese?" "Do felines like cheese? I heard once that milk is not all that good for them." Emma is now waxing distracted. "Fine, fine. You can have cheese." "Relish?" Parley prompts again. It sounds important. "What are you up to, Parley? No. no relish." Emma sits up in her chair. The chink of china indicates she's set down a tea cup. "I am purchasing a hotdog." Parley informs her rather grimly. "There are many toppings. I'm struggling to hold myself back. He has my full name now, you know." "Your full name? Gracious." Emma is a teensy bit flippant. "I thought you were okay with throwing your life away on this venture." She lets out another breath and stretching noise. "Hotdogs require mustard and onions. Everything else is based upon your current mood. You can't possibly want /everything./" "No?" Parley inquires. "I think you might be wrong..." *click* He's hung up. And all that's left is dial tone.