For ashyperfume

[trainwrecked]

It took a while, before he dialed the phone on the card. Weeks, he thought, he wasn't very good at keeping up with the dates. Or, rather, he didn't care that much.

But time had passed since the party. He'd memorized the information, then burned the card - in his experience already, anything after the last wipe wasn't going away, so he was using what part of his memory he could. Extensively.

In the end, though, he just picked a street phone and punched the number.

"Ms. Fukuyama?" Yes, she'd told him to call her Fuu. He couldn't be sure she'd pick up the phone herself. "This is James Banes."

That was how normal conversations went, wasn't it?

Comments

[trainwrecked]

"So long as there's no reason to connect the person you're talking to with certain things, there's nothing about you that's compromised. But the answer is nowhere near as simple as yes or no. And explaining why would connect you to those things, on the phone."

He sounded tired, for a moment.

"You don't want to get caught up in what will follow if I answer truthfully here. But I guess it's closer to 'yes' than 'no.'" Beat. "Just not the kind of 'yes' in which people might open fire at me at a random moment."

Unless he slipped. Where they could catch him.

[ashyperfume]

She was silent at that. In all probability, the answer surprised her -- not so much that there was danger involved with him; she'd expected that -- but at the degree and force of his honesty . . . what she'd asked for, but never expected to receive.

An unusual sort of man.

"Aaron's." She named a bar downtown. "It's a dive bar. I trust you can find it."

[trainwrecked]

He didn't even have to think much, when it came to time zones conversion.

"Twenty-one hundred?"

[ashyperfume]

"9:00." The response was almost idle, but no doubt that she'd made the quick calculation in her head. "Fine. Will you be the one in the mustache?"

It was Fuu. Wryness couldn't resist creeping in, if only a little.

[trainwrecked]

He wasn't sure what she was talking about for a moment, she did know what he looked like, after all...

... and then he put it together. His mouth twitched, behind the phone receiver, but his voice was as serious as when he was mentioning the hour.

"The very one." Yes, he was, in fact, capable both of thinking fast... and of traces of humor. It just wasn't something that occurred to him easily, these days, the latter one.

[ashyperfume]

Was that a joke? Had he actually played back? In full honesty, she couldn't be sure. On the one hand, the idea was absurd; on the other, he maintained such deadpan composure, even in this, that it was challenging to tell without seeing the tell-tale quirks of the mouth. She very nearly laughed outright. As it was, the wisps of humor emerged in her voice.

"9:00, then, Mr. Banes. Safe flight."