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Family Feuds [Lola Mood / Attn: jamie]
#1
October 31st, 2013
The Hawkes Homestead
5:30 p.m.


The past two weeks have been quiet-- almost painfully so. Lola's been stir-crazy with how uneventful things have been. She doesn't say much on the matter, but Hector and anyone else from Celduin that visits The Homestead can feel Lola virtually vibrating with suppressed energy. She hasn't been out in combat since she nearly lost her life, since she and Hector found out in the most face-paling, stomach-turning way possible that she-- they were expecting.

It's on the afternoon of Halloween that Hector sees that energy whiplash its way through some poor, unsuspecting asshole's eardrums.

The phone conversation had begun out at the edge of The Homestead's property, and had been a lengthy stretch of distance to begin with. The conversation started slow, casual, typical. As her boots carried her over scruffy grass and fallen leaves, cutting across the back of the property toward the house, she spoke into the phone, alternating between English and Spanish as comfortably and intermittently as though they were the same language.

Hector's busy with something in the backyard. He's been full of energy too these days, but a slightly different, more upbeat sort. He was up on the back patio, perhaps whittling, perhaps tuning an instrument, maybe reading a book that Tamsin's been on him to finish for a while. Either way, as Lola nears she doesn't wave or smile or provide any such friendly gesture. Instead she pauses near the edge of what was going to be an expansive garden next year and stands still, one hand holding a cellphone to her ear and the other hand out in the air, gesturing something that looks like frustration to someone that can't see her.

He'll catch snippets from the distance, and what he catches is:

"No estás mostrando mucha fe en mí."
"Jesus Christ, Anthony, be menos de un imbécil."

A pause, and she's turned about, away from Hector after a brief glance in his direction before she hisses something else into the phone, under her breath. Whatever the answer was gets a reaction from Lola because the Uktena Galliard will watch his woman's spine straighten, her shoulders square, and when she turns to the side to face northeast, toward the city of Denver, toward the person she had been having a tense conversation with, he can see that her chest is puffed up with breath that would carry a stream of curses that sounded venomous in both languages.

"You know what, you smug son of a bitch? Todo sabes! Mantenga su medicina y las máquinas y los seres humanos Aléjate de mí, mi familia y mi tierra. If I see one unfamiliar truck out here I'll shoot the tires out and make whatever poor güera you sent drag that truck back by her teeth and its bumper at gunpoint.

"You don't have the time to come fucking visit anymore, but you think you can send some bitch with a medicine bag and a nametag out here to take care of me? After fucking insulting me and saying that I can't even take care of myself?" She's gotten herself worked up enough that she actually spits on the ground before continuing her tirade into the phone.

"Te haré un trato. You come out here, you take the time to drive your ass out and pay us a visit and sit down and have some fuckin' coffee. Meet Hector, acknowledge that you're more than the human you've been pretending to be. Then maybe I'll think about taking your advice. Until then? Keep your medicine men away from my house."

With that, the conversation is ended. Lola jabs the key on her phone that ends the call and shoves it into her coat pockets. She looks back to Hector, who has no doubt been watching with avid interest and perhaps even some concern. Whatever his expression, regardless of if he starts to approach or calls her over or does none of the above, Lola will wave one arm and call out to him: "I need to walk this off," and turn and head back the way he came.

If he came to follow, she wouldn't stop him, though.
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