11-25-2017, 09:26 PM
There's a sudden dull thud! as all four of the legs of Margot's chair found the floor once more. She knew the name 'Martin', and the lead in to the Darth Vader reference said enough to already escalate her pulse and draw her wakefulness and attention to a very sharp and sudden pinpoint. The familiarity of the sigh felt like a nail in the coffin and made her heart ache in a way that made her want to reflexively withdraw, like pulling a hand from a hot stovetop.
One of the problems of having a mind as keen as her own was the ability to grasp a wide scope and process much aptly in a quick amount of time. What this made for in this situation was a rapid succession of thoughts firing off and igniting the fuses on a multitude of panicked internal thoughts-- how did he find her? why did he find her? where had he been? did he know about Mom? did he know about Luke...?
"Ohmygod," he was pretty sure he heard her breathe halfway into the receiver right after he proclaimed his belief to be her father, and very soon thereafter a scuffling sound as the phone had slipped from her hand and she'd scrambled to (successfully) save it from hitting the floor before returning it to her ear. Both hands went to her head when she brought the phone back up, so the other could press over her forehead and eyes while the call continued.
"Well," she said uncertainly and a little shakily, "you're right about not showing up on the doorstep." She took a breath, and he heard an echo of his sigh before she cleared her throat and didn't answer his question at all.
"What's going on? I mean... why did you... are you, uh..." She lifted her hand from her forehead just enough to slap it back down again in exasperation with herself and inability to vocalize. Punctuated with the slap was the quiet curse of "fuck!" off to the side of the receiver before she was speaking directly into it once more, frustration with herself and the stress of the situation bleeding into the edges of her voice.
"What do you want?"
One of the problems of having a mind as keen as her own was the ability to grasp a wide scope and process much aptly in a quick amount of time. What this made for in this situation was a rapid succession of thoughts firing off and igniting the fuses on a multitude of panicked internal thoughts-- how did he find her? why did he find her? where had he been? did he know about Mom? did he know about Luke...?
"Ohmygod," he was pretty sure he heard her breathe halfway into the receiver right after he proclaimed his belief to be her father, and very soon thereafter a scuffling sound as the phone had slipped from her hand and she'd scrambled to (successfully) save it from hitting the floor before returning it to her ear. Both hands went to her head when she brought the phone back up, so the other could press over her forehead and eyes while the call continued.
"Well," she said uncertainly and a little shakily, "you're right about not showing up on the doorstep." She took a breath, and he heard an echo of his sigh before she cleared her throat and didn't answer his question at all.
"What's going on? I mean... why did you... are you, uh..." She lifted her hand from her forehead just enough to slap it back down again in exasperation with herself and inability to vocalize. Punctuated with the slap was the quiet curse of "fuck!" off to the side of the receiver before she was speaking directly into it once more, frustration with herself and the stress of the situation bleeding into the edges of her voice.
"What do you want?"