Post by Nightingale on Jul 6, 2006 3:25:05 GMT -5
The temperature dropped as night fell, and Angela Price zipped her jacket up, pulling the hood up to warm her ears. She sat down, leaning against a wall, and took her backpack off, looking for something to eat. She pulled out what she thought was an energy bar but instead found herself looking down at her mobile phone, and she quickly put it into her pocket to keep searching, not wanting to give in to the emotions that arose every time she looked at it. She was still torn between wanting to call her mother, and not wanting to give any clue about where she was. Not that she was entirely sure where that was - somewhere near Washington, she thought, after hitchhiking across the country to get as far away from her mother and the cure as she could possibly get. Odd jobs here and there for a couple of days at a time had kept her fed, but not particularly well. She'd started considering offering her services to sick people on the streets, but that could be dangerous for more than one reason. With a frown, her mind went back to her bag, where her rummaging wasn't yeilding results.
Frustrated at still being unable to find the food, Angie poked her fingers out through the palm of her mitten, and fished out her wallet, examining what was left in it. Enough for a few more meals, if she made them last. Perhaps it was time to find another 'help wanted' sign and get a bit more cash, although she was never guaranteed of actually being paid. Some people... She knew that she was almost out of credit on her phone, had enough to make one more call, and with not enough cash to buy more, she didn’t know what to do. As she closed her wallet, the business card she'd been handed at a mutant community meeting a few weeks back fell out. Sitting on her lap looking up at her as if to mock her, the words that she had long since memorised promised a better life. She flipped it over, examining the number, turning it over in her fingers without thinking. Finally finding what she’d been looking for, Angie fished out the somewhat squished energy bar, and had a bite, the phone still sitting in her hand. She turned it on, waiting for it to organise itself, and dialled a number.
Before she could press send, she shook her head and cleared it. Don’t be an idiot. Her head was a mess of thoughts, pros and cons for each situation running through and adding up, and Angie put one finger to her temple momentarily, the coolness of her skin distracting her. There were options, but not all of them were appealing, and without knowing more about each situation it was hard to make a decision. She'd heard of a safe place, up in New York, but didn't know if they'd accept her. She could call her mother and go back there to the cure and a normal life, she could call the Brotherhood, or stay on the move... There were too many decisions to make for someone who didn't know if she'd be accepted anywhere she went, and she was running out of money and options. Time to make up her mind, for better or worse. Looking down at the phone in her hand, she shook her head again. Dialling in a different number, Angie swallowed her mouthful and hit send, listening to the ringing for a moment and clearing her throat. It connected, and she got onto a voicemail. The message was short, and she had no time to think about what she was going to say. Clearing her throat again as the message ended, she spoke.
“It’s Angie… uh, Nightingale.” Rattling off her mobile phone number, she hung up, not sure if she’d made the right decision. Still, it was a decision, and she put the phone in her pocket to await a return call, picking up her bag and walking out onto the streets to keep moving, not sure where she was going as long as it was away.
[Continued in post 'Brotherhood phone tree']
Frustrated at still being unable to find the food, Angie poked her fingers out through the palm of her mitten, and fished out her wallet, examining what was left in it. Enough for a few more meals, if she made them last. Perhaps it was time to find another 'help wanted' sign and get a bit more cash, although she was never guaranteed of actually being paid. Some people... She knew that she was almost out of credit on her phone, had enough to make one more call, and with not enough cash to buy more, she didn’t know what to do. As she closed her wallet, the business card she'd been handed at a mutant community meeting a few weeks back fell out. Sitting on her lap looking up at her as if to mock her, the words that she had long since memorised promised a better life. She flipped it over, examining the number, turning it over in her fingers without thinking. Finally finding what she’d been looking for, Angie fished out the somewhat squished energy bar, and had a bite, the phone still sitting in her hand. She turned it on, waiting for it to organise itself, and dialled a number.
Before she could press send, she shook her head and cleared it. Don’t be an idiot. Her head was a mess of thoughts, pros and cons for each situation running through and adding up, and Angie put one finger to her temple momentarily, the coolness of her skin distracting her. There were options, but not all of them were appealing, and without knowing more about each situation it was hard to make a decision. She'd heard of a safe place, up in New York, but didn't know if they'd accept her. She could call her mother and go back there to the cure and a normal life, she could call the Brotherhood, or stay on the move... There were too many decisions to make for someone who didn't know if she'd be accepted anywhere she went, and she was running out of money and options. Time to make up her mind, for better or worse. Looking down at the phone in her hand, she shook her head again. Dialling in a different number, Angie swallowed her mouthful and hit send, listening to the ringing for a moment and clearing her throat. It connected, and she got onto a voicemail. The message was short, and she had no time to think about what she was going to say. Clearing her throat again as the message ended, she spoke.
“It’s Angie… uh, Nightingale.” Rattling off her mobile phone number, she hung up, not sure if she’d made the right decision. Still, it was a decision, and she put the phone in her pocket to await a return call, picking up her bag and walking out onto the streets to keep moving, not sure where she was going as long as it was away.
[Continued in post 'Brotherhood phone tree']