cottoncandypink

Entry tags:

2019,
tess mercer

Tess

The door does not open up to the condo, unfortunately. Because Wilford has not been to the condo since the last time he brought someone through the door. It opens up from his office, into an area nebulously defined as a dining room.

At least, there is a table there, which someone has taken a passing effort to keep clear. The stack of mail, hastily picked up toys, and a couple of coats on the table suggest nobody does any eating at the table.

The house is what passes as small in the neighbourhood. Windows look out on the sloping hills and sprawling city in the distance. Inside, brushed steel kitchen, slate grey walls, and leather furniture are betrayed by tiny hand smudges on the windows, peanut butter stains in the carpet, crayon scribbles in places that nobody seems to have the energy to deal with.

The house is also unusually quiet. How interesting.

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"Mmhmm."

She's not so sure about that, but it's Wilford's problem, not hers. The phone rings shortly after and she picks it up.

"Yes, send them up."

With the phone down again, she tells Wilford the obvious.

"They're here."

Well then. Wilford grumbles wordlessly, adjusts his glasses, and changes the way he sits. And he's suddenly no longer Wilford. He's a stuffy, decorated officer who can barely spare a full sentence to his wife.

It paints a very particular image for whoever knocks on the door a few moments later.

What? Is he expected to answer it? He's clearly eating his dinner and watching a news piece on some foreign war.

Right. Eye roll.

She gets up to answer the door and invites the doctor and his assistant in.

"Where should we begin?"

Wilford barely glances up. "What's this?" he asks. He looks up again, and suddenly seems to realise what he's looking at.

"Oh, right. That..." He waves his hand vaguely. "Hasn't stopped blustering like this all day. You can do something about it, right?"

The doctor and his assistant both do an admirable job at not being obviously wrong-footed.

"Well, let's take a look and see," the doctor says.

"Well, it's like he said. It was like this when I woke up this morning and I haven't been able to stop it since."

"I usually can," she elaborates.

The doctor and the assistant give each other a look.

"Well, let's get some privacy and we'll do an examination." The doctor offers. Tess leads them to what she hopes is a bedroom.

It is a bedroom. Even though nobody lives here, a lot of care has been put into making it look like someone does.

It's also the bedroom Wilford uses as a dressing room, so his other set of clothes is piled on a chair. Little things - his rubber bands, a box of disposable contacts, random bits of watch band and the like - are scattered on dressers and tables.

It looks like someone with a housekeeper has given specific instructions to leave his personal effects alone, but give everything else the white-glove treatment.

Wilford does not follow them back, because he is clearly too busy watching his program.

The examination goes just fine without him and they all return after about twenty minutes.

"Darling, we're all done."

Just so Wilford knows.

She shakes the doctor's hand, thanking him, then lets the both of them out. She leans against the closed door.

"That wasn't so bad."

Wilford waits long enough to be sure nobody's lingering outside the door.

"That didn't change much," he can't help but observe.

She sighs at him and walks back to her chair, to sit once more.

"They gave me an injection to suppress my abilities. It might take a few minutes to kick in."

She looks over at him.

"They're also doing blood tests so I'll need to come back for that."

Well, there's an obvious solution there. Without even hesitating, Wilford pulls his wallet out and thumbs through for a business card, and hands it over.

"Then you'll need that."

He gets up to take his plate to the kitchen, hesitating for a moment to see if Tess wants anything on hers at all, or if he should take it away as well.

She takes the card and turns it over in her hands.

"Thank you."

Wilford takes the plates back to the kitchen, quickly cleans up, and puts everything away. The trash isn't anywhere near full, but who knows when anyone will be here next, so he replaces the bag to take what's there out with him.

"You know when you need to come back?" he asks when he's done.

She smiles a little as he goes back to the kitchen, not surprised he's choosing to ignore what she said.

"A couple of days. Give them time to run all the tests they want."

Wilford nods. "Good," he says.

It means he can go back to the bar eventually, and not be assaulted by... this.

"Anything else needs doing?"

She shakes her head.

"This was it. We can go if you want."

The wind starts to die down, slowly.

Wilford nods. He disappears to go change again, taking less time this time around. After a few minutes, he returns properly pink and shaggy, having not even bothered to re-style his moustache.

That feels much better.

"Hopefully wherever the other two are, they're out for a while," he says, making sure he's got everything he needs. He finds his phone on the table, and stuffs it into his pocket before fetching the trash from the kitchen.

She likes this Wilford better.

She watches him as he busies himself around the condo.

"Can we get back to the bar from here or do we have to drive back?"

"You can. I have to drive," Wilford points out.

Either way, whatever Tess decides, Wilford motions for the door so he can follow her out and lock up.

She doesn't need any other hints. She heads to the door, making sure she has all of her belongings, and moves out into the hallway so Wilford can lock the door.

"I'm ready for a nap."

"I need a fucking vacation," Wilford says.

Vacations are much better than naps, because you can nap constantly.

He makes sure the door is good and locked, and starts making his way back to the elevator, dropping the trash off on his way. All the while, he keeps a look out for a door that's likely to be unlocked.

"That, too, but not with what I signed up for."

She doesn't think she'll be getting any vacations for a while yet.

"Will any door work?"

"Probably not a good idea to go trying someone's front door, no," Wilford says.

A utility closet, however. Wilford doesn't have a key, but when has that ever stopped him from doing something he wanted to. He pulls his wallet out again, and grabs a credit card, using it to jimmy the door open.

Hey, presto. They've found the bar!

"Oh, good."

That's relief he hears.

"Thank you again. I'll keep you updated on when I'm coming back."

"Good," Wilford says.

This is a strange situation, and he doesn't have enough prior experience to know how a Normal Human would respond.

He responds by pulling his headphones out of his inventory and plugging them into his phone.

"Don't ever blame anything on me again."

"It was kind of your fault."

She quips back before heading through the door.

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cottoncandypink - 2019-07-19 23:33 (UTC) - Expand

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