"Not going to forget any time soon," she replies. It's mild as far as grudges go, but she's not sure that she's ever really forgiven those kinds of situations. "What does Yunlan want?"
He shakes his head. "Don't know for sure. He heard about it from someone, and it didn't sit right with him, so he went around asking all the involved parties about the incident. Why he's focusing on this one, I don't rightly know - plenty of murders that oughta be looked at."
"Probably why he's chosen this one. I don't know - your choice, I can tell him to fuck off if you don't wanna. But he's been fair and reasonable so far."
“I’ll do it,” Tess says. “You wanna be there while we’re talking? You don’t have to say anything, just…”
She shrugs like it’s a casual invitation, but it comes out a bit more vulnerable than she’d like. Nothing feels quite as secure as having a big tough guy looming in the background.
“I think you’d kick my ass if I stuck this somewhere and forgot it,” she replies with a touch of cheer. “One sec.”
She pulls out her communicator to scroll. She’d put the post in her bookmarks somewhere, but it’ll take a minute to dig out. And why not drag it out? Make him anticipate it.
“Yeah, but you haven’t read back as far as I have,” she replies. Former teenager who could tap out sixty words per minute with just her thumbs, as her parents complained. Tess keeps scrolling, finds it, hits play, and holds the communicator up, speaker towards Arthur.
A voice floats out as it starts:
John says I just need to talk into this thing here. So here I am. Talkin’. Ain’t technology grand. Heard they could make a man fly but never thought I’d see the day when they’d get a whole ship up in the clouds. I can’t tell if I’m even gettin’ through to you, but if I am, I’ll tell you my name. I’m Abigail Marston, and I'mma let everyone know right now, I don’t do funny business.
He's lucky he's sitting down. Hearing Abigail's voice is enough to about knock him on his ass, and he reaches out right away to take Tess' hand in his own. He looks at a spot on the table, unseeing as he just tries to listen. He didn't always get along with Abigail, but she's a hell of a woman. And she sounds like home.
"Where'd you find that?"
His voice is soft and pinched, emotions choking him up.
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"Hey, there," he says, with a light grin over at her. He lands a heavy hand on her shoulder and steps inside.
"What're you doin' here?"
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"Sure," he says, in reply to 'cleaning'. He knows how that goes, even if this has him feeling skeptical.
"Need to ask you somethin'. Favor for a feller who's in a coma right now."
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"Not sure what I can do for someone in a coma, but shoot."
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"Not now. When he wakes up. Remember that whole business with the damn handkerchief and that cabin you broke into, everything that happened?"
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"Not him. Edward. Fella you shot."
Like she doesn't remember.
"He had some questions. I answered the bare bones, but he wanted to talk to you, too. Said I'd ask if you was willin' to do so."
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“We can talk,” she replies, cautiously. “But why? What’s got him poking his nose in that?”
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He shakes his head. "Don't know for sure. He heard about it from someone, and it didn't sit right with him, so he went around asking all the involved parties about the incident. Why he's focusing on this one, I don't rightly know - plenty of murders that oughta be looked at."
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"Well," she replies, "murder's not usually personal here. And wardens don't usually lay hands on inmates."
Not that she was wholly innocent there, but she's sure no warden has swung at an inmate for murder in her year here.
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"Probably why he's chosen this one. I don't know - your choice, I can tell him to fuck off if you don't wanna. But he's been fair and reasonable so far."
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She shrugs like it’s a casual invitation, but it comes out a bit more vulnerable than she’d like. Nothing feels quite as secure as having a big tough guy looming in the background.
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"I'd prefer it, if it's all the same to you."
Let's pretend it's his choice, not hers.
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"Let's see when the bastard wakes up," he says, first of all.
"Alright. That was it from me. You get on with your..."
Mess.
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“I’ve got something for you, actually,” she replies. “If you’ve got a minute.”
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"Found something in the back of a drawer?"
He sits back down, though.
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She pulls out her communicator to scroll. She’d put the post in her bookmarks somewhere, but it’ll take a minute to dig out. And why not drag it out? Make him anticipate it.
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"What're you lookin' for on there? I got one of these too, you know."
She's being really mysterious, and 'anticipation' is one word for his impatience.
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A voice floats out as it starts:
John says I just need to talk into this thing here. So here I am. Talkin’. Ain’t technology grand. Heard they could make a man fly but never thought I’d see the day when they’d get a whole ship up in the clouds. I can’t tell if I’m even gettin’ through to you, but if I am, I’ll tell you my name. I’m Abigail Marston, and I'mma let everyone know right now, I don’t do funny business.
Tess pauses it and grins.
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He's lucky he's sitting down. Hearing Abigail's voice is enough to about knock him on his ass, and he reaches out right away to take Tess' hand in his own. He looks at a spot on the table, unseeing as he just tries to listen. He didn't always get along with Abigail, but she's a hell of a woman. And she sounds like home.
"Where'd you find that?"
His voice is soft and pinched, emotions choking him up.
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She closes her fingers around his, smiling a little wider.
"Want to hear more?"
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"Hell yes, I wanna hear more," he says, firmly. "This means he was here? How long ago? And was John here too?"
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She presses play:
You cross me, you’re gonna hear about it. You do something I don’t think’s real nice-like, and I’ll find a way of letting you know.
I’m a warden here. I don’t really do authority, but I do know what’s right and what’s wrong.
"He was a warden too, then got demoted for something, but I couldn't find anyone saying what for."
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"For being a damned idiot," Arthur predicts, fondly. "If he hadn't found Abigail and got her to stick around, he'd have been dead long ago."
He takes a breath, then holds a hand out so he can see the message, even if it's just the bar that he has to press to get the audio to start.
"Eleven years ago. Why'd you go that far back?"
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