Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2016 1:40:35 GMT -8
It was a payphone outside a Seven Eleven, public use.
Dressed as he was, most wouldn't approach him. He was homeless, a vagrant with an attitude so far as society was concerned. Just another scar on the face of civilization, probably setting up camp under an overpass like so many others in Seattle, Wa. His clothing had seen better nights, weathered by the journey. He had a few holes here and there, but it was still functional so far as he needed it. There were better things he could spend his hard earned money on. Namely, blade oil.
Grubby fingers plunked in two or three more quarters. He remembered when it only took one. Long distance had always been expensive. "Arrival went fine, ..as we expected. Open arms with minimal resistance in Tacoma. I-5 was a good choice." The conversation was business as usual, his mood wouldn't improve. There was a good reason he was calling, but it wasn't whom he had hoped to talk to.
Getting her on the phone took an act of congress.
All the same, it needed to be done. "Expect something in two months. It'll take me that much just to settle in." He said, pulling a long knife from under his coat. The blade tumbled between partially gloved fingers, flipping end over end as he casually steered the conversation elsewhere. Absently, "I brought a few friends in with me for the transition, ..they won't be involved. They have their own interests in Seattle, but I've known these guys for years. We'll have common goals, enough that my back is watched at least. It should be fine." He assured.
Cold eyes settled over a few arriving vehicles. They were interested in the Red Box that was unused. They kept their distance. "Next time, I'm sure. ..She'll let you out sooner or later. Maybe she'll even let you come on the road with me.. I have to go, though. Someone needs the phone." He lied. It wasn't often he wanted to stay on the phone with the Retainer. The receiver was hung firmly, a partially leather clad hand lingered to consider something. There were no pleasant goodbyes for the servant, his existence was slavery.
Sickening.
Augustine Rhodes slipped the knife between his teeth and dug deep into his pockets. The change jingled around until he found what he thought was enough to cover the call. His fingers slipped the quarters in place and then pulled the knife from his mouth. The tip of the blade was used to punch in the ten digit numbers against the payphone, the call going thru. It took only a few rings until the line opened on the other end.
With his eyes settling on the Red Box users. He smiled, "Only a few years. That job in St. Louis, I think." He laughed, gruffly. "Never mind that. How soon can you be in Seattle? We're going to need you here.. old friend." Smiling, there was nothing else to say.
Once the phone was hung on the cradle, Rhodes turned to leave. He gave one final look over toward the Mortals using the Red Box before wandering off. His hooded head bowed slightly in thought as he made his way into the city once more.
He needed to find a place to lay his head, the sun would be up soon..