2010-02-25: I'm Not Dead Yet



Date: February 25, 2010


Well-rested from their sojourn to Haiti, the Dynamic Blonde Duo finally break radio silence.

"I'm Not Dead Yet"

New York

Tension is running high in Congressman Dawson's office. It's been that way all day; it was that way yesterday, and everyone is expecting it to be that way tomorrow. Outwardly, things are still moving forward, things are still getting done - and the man in charge hasn't talked about what's kept him more on edge than usual - but his silence is enough of a clue to those paying attention, because he used to talk about her. Before she went missing for weeks at a time, for the second time in as many months.

Speaking of which, a familiar doctor - easily recognizable by the white lab coat and Manhattan Psychiatric name badge, and with a manila folder tucked under one arm - is pacing back and forth in the lobby, foregoing the complimentary coffee in favor of his own nervous energy. He is equally annoyed with Miss Van Cortlandt's disappearance, not least because he blames George as an idiot of an accessory. And the woman's doddering old grandmother didn't help matters, any. They'll probably try to pin it on him for malpractice, too— well, he'll be damned if he's going to sit around and let that happen.

Not quite halfway around the world, Hallis has been dodging every person in a white coat that she spies within a hundred yards of her person. She still doesn't have quite a realistic view of her own importance. It could have something to do with having a hand in a few undesirable pies, all due to her own personal mission to help those less fortunate than herself. She's such a saint, really. Having escaped the heat of the little African country just a couple of weeks ago, she spent her first week back trying to catch Fashion Week. The second was spent hiding in a spa courtesy of a new ID provided by Adam and her grandmother's money. Her father is still pretending that she doesn't exist, her mother… well she's been neck deep in mimosas since the accident in January.

If she was a smart woman, no one's ever accused her of being one, she would have contacted the congressman as soon as she set foot on American soil. But she's not, so she didn't. She avoided her problems, as per usual and ran as fast as she could. Unfortunately, the plan hasn't worked out quite as well as she had hoped. The first problem being, she missed him. The second problem being, except for the doctor, she really isn't that important. So no one has been looking for her, except for him.

There are worse places that she could've run to, however. The spa that she and Adam have fled to is in upstate New York, in the mountains, a nice relaxing sort of place. It's pretty much the complete antithesis to their time spent in Haiti, where the booze flows and the staff is there to serve the visitors. Mud soaks, swims, massages…basically everything but the sauna has been going down for the two of them (but strictly platonic! She's spoken for. And speaking of…). Even so, she still seems…a little out of sorts. Maybe it all has to do with The George, and pining for The George.

So when it doesn't take much to send her off to the boutique for something or another, Adam sneaks her cell phone: thankfully, there's only one George in there. Boy, that would've made things awkward! Rather than use her phone, however, he punches in the numbers on his own, and gives a call, letting it ring and ring to see if anyone will pick up.

Halfway across the state, George has just finished up another call, and is bracing himself to face the music doctor when the next one comes in. He only looks a little bit surprised; this sort of thing happens to him all the time. Flashing the doc an apologetic smile that he doesn't actually feel, he glances down at the display, squinting at the unfamiliar number before answering. "Hello?"

Down in the boutique, Hallis is trying to decide between a white robe and a powder pink robe. Her new hair color is bothering her quite a bit. She hates being a brunette, boring women have brown hair. People like Mitsy and that woman at the front desk that Hallis swears is having her room searched whenever she's not in it. Feeling around in her pocket, Hallis frowns a little and gives the clerk an apologetic look. "I forgot that little scanner card thing… Do I really need it to charge the robe?" After witnessing the liberal eyeroll, the socialite heaves a deep sigh and slowly pads back to the elevators. Within moments, she's back at the door, knocking. Hopefully Adam isn't at some bar again and able to let her in.

"Hello, Congressman? My name is Adam Monroe. You probably don't know me, however, I accompanied our mutual friend Hallis on a little mercy trip to Haiti recently," Adam begins into the phone call, wasting no time. He doesn't even bother with an alias. "While she seems to be avoiding this call, I think you, at the very least, deserve to know that she isn't dead. Hiding, yes." It's about that time that Hallis comes knocking on the door, to which he mumbles into the phone, "…speak of the devil. One moment." The room's big enough and nice enough that it takes a few seconds to get up from the bed and cross the sitting room to get to the door, which isn't latched from the inside. When it opens, Hallis is sure to get a look at him on the phone, his phone, even though he hasn't had a chance to hide hers away again.

At the mention of Hallis's name, George turns and makes his way toward the far corner of the office, instinctively keeping his face out of sight until he has a better idea what's going on. "She mentioned, yes— Well, I appreciate that. Hiding?" A frown; hiding from the public and the doctors makes sense, but from him? They went through this same thing before she left, too.

While he waits for her to get on the line and explain things in her own words, George thinks about the voice that was on the line earlier. As it happens, he's heard it before, but only as one voice among thousands; two years and change is plenty enough time to forget.

Giving Adam a weak smile, Hallis rushes past him to get to her keycard. He's on the phone, she's not going to bother him, who knows what he's arranging. When they first began their stay at the two bedroom suite, Hallis automatically chose the smaller of the two rooms. First, because she just didn't care to out princess Adam for the larger suite. Second, because she wasn't ever expecting to need the room. On her way out of her room, she sweeps her brown locks into a bun at the nape of her neck and gives Adam a quizzical look. "Why do you have my phone?"

"Making a call. Here, it's for you." It's a few weeks past Valentine's Day (Happy VD, everyone!), but there's still plenty of chances to play matchmaker. He doesn't give her a chance to be evasive or resist or decline; he just shoves the crackberry right into her hand and concinces her that it's a call worth taking in a very bullish manner. "Just say hello. No way that phone's getting tracked." Well, not by convential means, at least. Not unless that nuthouse is as well equipped as the CIA or FBI, and maybe not even then, or unless they have one of a few specials in their employ. That's just silly though.

Or unless they're tracking the phone on the other end. Which they shouldn't be - George's ability isn't the easiest one in the world to pin down, for a couple of reasons - but it's not out of the question. At least it really is her on the other end, and she doesn't sound like she's under any duress— but just in case, he holds off on mentioning names. There's still Doctor Glare to be concerned about. "Hey, it's me. Where've you— never mind, when can I see you again? You're not being followed or anything, are you?"

Hallis places the phone to her ear just as George begins to speak. "George!" she's not as smart as he is about these things, "I've had a fantastic adventure! And I have the most wonderful news, I'm not dead!" Thanks to Adam, speaking of which, she may not have said it out loud yet today. "We rescued Sierra from becoming a slave and I got shot… but I'm much better now. Ad — " She looks at the blonde man and her voice drifts off, as if she's asking permission to use his name. "I'm at the spa right now, are the doctors still looking for me? Is it safe to come home? I don't want to go back to — there."

While Hallis gets her chat on, Adam drifts back into the room, and kicks back in the recliner he was using before. The place has a pretty banging mini bar, in addition to the regular bar and restaurant. Money is no problem, of course. Plus, he's nosey, and kind of wants to hear what's going on in their conversation and how she's going to explain all of what happened.

Always full of surprises, Hallis. It's one of the big things that drew George to her from the beginning. That, and the way she— well, never mind that. "They are. It isn't, not yet— look, can you meet me this time tomorrow, at the cherry blossoms?" That should be far enough to stay off the radar of MPH's finest. "And bring Mr. Monroe if you can, I'd love to hear his side of the story too. You remember Georgia Brown's, right?" Good food, crowded, optimal for not being easily noticed.

"Georgia Brown's? Tomorrow? Uhm… Is that near the bathtub or whatever it's called?" Hallis is quite confused at the moment and shrugs in Adam's direction. With a rather comical expression on her face, she grabs a pen and pad of paper from the desk and begins to write down all of the details. "You know Adam? Oh, that's a relief. Now I don't have to remember not to say his name. I hate that part." Luke, Gene, Prometheus… It was much easier when he had only one name and not three to remember. "Bye Goerge, I have a lady holding two robes for me at the boutique. I'll see you tomorrow? Kisses!" nd she hands the phone back to Adam with a smile. "He wants us to meet him in anti-Disneyland tomorrow. I have to shop before it's too late!"

"Yes, God forbid you miss an opportunity to shop," Adam says back to her with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Though he takes the phone back, he's certainly not about to take up the conversation after she closes it out with kisses. That'd be…weird. "I hope you know the place he's talking about, though. I've no idea what or where anti-Disneyland is, unless you mean Disneyland Paris. That place is just awful after you've been to the real one." He's in no particular rush to pack up or make plans. It's quite easy just to stuff his clothes in a bag and go; it is what he did for so long, of course. "Regardless, I'll make sure we have a car for the trip by tomorrow morning."

After the call ends, George takes a deep breath and composes himself, resuming an upset expression that he no longer truly feels. New agenda! Toss the doctor some platitudes and send him on his way. Apologize to his staff for winding them up all this time. Finish out the day's business at the office. Go home, pack, double-check the next morning's train schedule…

Pausing, Hallis gives Adam another smile and shakes her head. "No, silly, anti-Disneyland is Washington D.C. otherwise known as 'The Most Boring Place on Earth.'" Then she throws her arms around the blonde man's neck and gives him an excited hug. "We should get massages before we go. Apparently the hospital is still after me, you would think they'd give up. I'm just one person, I'm sure there's someone standing on a milk crate in Grande Central Station they could pick up or something. Or do you think it's an insurance thing?" It makes sense to her, the smelly people predicting the end of the world can't pay the bill. They need at least two or three people on the floor that can to compensate.

"I suppose so. You should just pay them off and buy your mental health. And that being said, I suppose we won't be needing a car. I'll schedule train tickets so that we can get there in resonable time." When she hugs him, he just oofs a bit, and leans forward in the recliner chair. One arm swings up and around her, holding a lowball glass with some jingling twinkling ice cubes inside.

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