| "Will you accept the charge(s)?" |
[Sep. 11th, 2007|09:48 pm] |
"And just how the hell did ya get this number?" Whistler stormed out of Rock 'N Bowl, cell phone plastered to his left ear. He was due for a smoke break regardless. He cracked open a new pack of Lucky Sevens and shook one out.
The voice on the other end of the transatlantic call crackled through the static. "I have resources even you would be envious of."
"Yeah, whatever, mister high-and-mighty." He flipped open his zippo and struck the flint. Smoke billowed from the Agent's nostrils. "You still mad at me?"
"For the bachelor party?" The famous British niceties were as thin as cling film. " Heaven forbid."
Whistler swore he could hear the man cleaning his glasses. "So you didn't like the stripper then?"
"An aging succubus wouldn't have been my first choice," Giles responded. "And there's the small matter of the groom -- or any member of the alleged wedding party -- not being present for the festivities."
"It got you to England," Whistler spoke pointedly. "That's what's important."
"Indeed. Speaking of paths." The Englishman took a deep breath. "There's a Slayer in your area in need of some... assistance."
Whistler grunted as he took another drag of his cigarette. "I'm not a Watcher, you know this. Last girl I sparred with I knocked into a fuckin' nightstand. You're lucky she didn''t sure your ass for millions."
"We are extremely grateful for that," Giles drolled. "And while I'm sure she turned out fine despite your best efforts, we have a bit of a situation in Las Vegas and to be quite honest, there's no one else we can turn to at the moment."
"Yeah and if you wanna send a boatload of heavy armaments to go against the Defiler, that wouldn't be refused. Just send it Federal Express. I don't trust those UPS assholes." Whistler wondered if he could sneak a beer into the alley without any fuss.
A pause. "Oh. I received your scribble regarding that. Forward to Corbett, correct? He'll have the required information tomorrow. Do let us know how that turns out."
"How it turns out? We need a fuckin' army here, Rupert. The damn thing killed me already!"
A chuckle travelled the wireless airwaves and downloaded into the Agent's ear. "But you got better."
"Don't quote Python to me, or so help me I'll tell every Slayer from here to Wisconsin about your weakness for chocolate." Whistler liked to think the head of the Watcher's Council had to buy glass cleaner in bulk.
"I'm sure you read...," another pause from the former Watcher, given deliberately, "... the papers, yes? Then you'd know a woman named Samantha Blanchard was arrested for murder. She's a Slayer. And we don't abandon our own."
Whistler blew a smoke ring into the night air. "You used to."
"Things are different now," Giles responded matter-of-factly.
"They'd better be."
"Yes," Giles replied sternly. "But we are nowhere near the capacity since the First Evil launched his assault and on the ... corporate end of things, I've been a bit lax. And so. I need a favor."
The Agent calmed himself. He imagined it took a lot for those last four words to be spoken.
Giles continued. "I need you to represent Miss Blanchard as her legal counsel."
"You WHAT?" The intake of breath was so severe, Whistler nearly choked on his cigarette.
"Spit it out."
"I'm not a lawyer," the Agent coughed. The closest I've come is watchin' 'My Cousin Vinny' about twenty times. I put people on their path.."
"And this is Miss Blanchard's," the commander of the new Watcher's Council reminded. You'd be remiss in your duties to the Powers if you refused."
Whistler coughed. Loudly. "And did ya think for even a second that they might have other-- Hold on. I have another call coming in."
click.
Tall and tan and young and lovely,
The girl from ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes, each one she passes goes - ah.
When she walks, shes like a samba,
That swings so cool and sways so gentle,
That when she passes, each one she passes goes - ooh.
(ooh) but I watch her so sadly,
How can I tell her I love her,
Yes I would give my heart gladly,
But each day, when she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead, not at me.
Tall, (and) tan, (and) young, (and) lovely,
The girl from ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes, I smile - but she doesnt see (doesnt see)
(she just doesnt see, she never sees me,...)
click.
"I'm back."
"I wasn't aware you had 'on hold' music for your cell phone," Giles offered as a second greeting.
"I don't even have call waiting."
"Indeed." Glasses were cleaned again.
Whistler took out another cigarette and lit it up. "They told me to take the case."
A sigh of relief was felt from several thousands of miles away. "Whatever you need, I'll have at your disposal."
"You're gonna regret sayin' that," the Agent grinned.
"I already am." |
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