ArchivedLogs:I Can't Decide

I Can't Decide
Dramatis Personae Norman, Doug	2013-04-27 '
Location
Ring-ring-ring. Telephone for you, Doug. It's a couple of rings before the line clicks open, and Doug answers. His voice is chipper, and bright. "Hello?" A female voice immediately responds: "This is Oscorp. Please hold for Norman Osborn." There is a click, and then - music. Scissor Sisters' 'I Can't Decide'. There's a silence at the end of the line, broken by the clatter of dishes as /something/ is dropped. The song's just gotten to the part where the main singer is going off into the main chorus - 'Oh I could bury you alive, but you might crawl out with a knife' - when there's a sudden click, followed by the voice of a man. Deep! Pleasant. And /imminently/ cheerful: "Mr. Ramsey! Hello, this is Norman Osborn - I haven't caught you at a bad time, have I?" The moment of stunned silence when Norman stops speaking is brief; miniscule enough that it could be the normal lag of wireless communication. Then Doug's voice comes over the line, bright (maybe a shade /over/ bright) and amiable. "Mister Osborn! What an unexpected pleasure to hear from you. You and Harry have been well, I hope." "Yes, Mr. Ramsey. Well enough, at least." There's nothing manic about /Osborn's/ voice; the man sounds like he's sincerely interested in speaking with Doug. "Sorry to bug you at this hour, but actually - this is purely business. Did you know," and there's a hint of regret in his tone, like having to mention this sordid business to Doug /pains/ him, "that there was a recent break in at your father's office?" The pause this time is longer, and there's a sound of broken china being swept up. Doug's voice, when it returns, is less chipper-sounding. "I believe that he mentioned it," he says. "Nothing went missing, I think, though?" There's another sound, of said crockery being dumped into a recepticle. "He was hard-pressed to prove it for the police report, if I recall." There's another silent moment, then: "I'm not sure what that has to do with me, though, sir." There is a low chuckle on the other end of the phone. "Really, Mr. Ramsey. We live in the /information/ age. Just because nothing's physically missing doesn't mean we haven't been compromised! It was likely an act of corporate espionage. Regrettable, really - oh, yes. The reason I had to call you..." A long, /calculated/ pause. The slight sound of shuffling paperwork. "...just needed to give you a heads up. Your father's ID card was apparently used for the break-in - which means someone must have had access to it. Our security department is - ah, sometimes - a bit /aggressive/. They'll probably want to contact you, ask you questions. I wanted to apologize in advance. I know your father, Mr. Ramsey; I trust him enough to know he wouldn't raise a son involved in any... funny business. But the boys down in security - mm. They don't like it when I play 'favorites', if you get my meaning?" There's no pause, this time, in Doug's response. "I suggested that to him. He's had some experts sifting his systems and seeing what's been accessed." He doesn't sound like this is anything that should evoke worry. "Really? Dad's card?" He sounds genuinely surprised, and there's a low whistle. "Weird. He found his I.D. card under his car seat last week." The pause this time is uncertain, wobbly, before there's an exhalation, and when Doug speaks again, his tone is a bit more formal. "I assure you, sir, that I would not jeopardize my father's business by enabling that sort of thing. Nor would I --" there's a swallow that probably wasn't meant to be audible. "--expect any special treatment in the completion of your investigation." A laugh. "Of course, Doug, I know that. I just wanted you to be aware. Mmmnh - actually, you know what? Maybe we /can/ make your treatment a /little/ special. Tell you what: I'll have one of my assistants ask you the questions. The security boys, they can get a little... well, they sometimes forget they're not police. Yes, I think you'll have a better time with... Mmn, let me see here." Shuffling of paperwork. "--oh, yes. /Here/ we are - I can schedule a meeting with you later this week - with Parley, if you don't mind?" A beat, punctuated by the pop of a bottle opening. "I appreciate that, sir," Doug says, earnestly. "The next month is going to be tough enough with finals and all. I'm happy to talk to your Mister Parley. Tell him he can call to arrange a time..." there's a few clicking keyboard noises. "...on Thursday? My Computer Science lab was cancelled this week, so I'll have all day free." Mmm. "Absolutely. I'll have him contact you. Thank you, Mr. Ramsey. Oh, and by the way," Norman adds, rather offhandedly. "If you're ever looking for a job..." Click.