Searching database...
Mission report found.
Rebekah avoids blowing up for once, offering some Southern hospitality instead. |
This time, they come up the elevator together, and Thomas is already laughing and leaning heavily against the side of the elevator car as it opens. "No shit," he says to Rebekah, "guy stole a dollar so he could get medical treatment in jail? I know what kind of treatment he's getting," and he gestures with his arms in what looks like a rather painful medical procedure at best.
Tamara has arrived home not too long ago herself. She's made the painful shuffle down the hall and is currently at her door, digging out her keys to let herself into the apartment. Still a bit on edge, she looks over sharply at the approaching elevator, but relaxes when Thomas and Rebekah step out instead of, say, another assailant. "So we meet again," she calls out down the length of hall, not needing to raise her voice too much to make it carry.
"No shit, really. Ah mean Ah bet he's gettin' th'ee square there." Rebekah offers as she leans against his shoulder long enough to hip check Thomas. Then she's sauntering out of the elevator, rapidly. Her eyes moving towards Tamara with a bright Southern smile. "Sugah! How's the leg, doin'? Y'all need anythan' Ah can cook ya know."
"'s true," drawls Thomas, pointing a thumb as he walks out a couple of steps behind Rebekah. "You shoulda seen what she whipped up earlier." Okay, so it wasn't actually food, but it was fun to watch, anyway. "Howdy, neighbor," he adds, in an accent that no one will mistake for Southern any time this decade.
"Oh, it's healing," Tamara replies with a reassuring smile, although she's still moving stiffly as she turns to face them along the hallway. It isn't healing that fast. "Cooking. I've been told that's a useful skill for a domesticated young woman. The words, I'm afraid, were lost on me, but it's good to know the art isn't dead." Thomas gets a smile as Tamara nods her head to him in greeting as well.
Rebekah blinks. "Did ya just compa'e me to a house pet? With the domesticated?" Becky looks prepared to punch Tamara in the face over that one. The look holds before she shakes her head and let's it go. "Ah just like to be in the kitchen. Ah handle the knives well." She looks towards Tamara's foot a bit. "Ya suhe y'all shouldn't be restin' that, Dahlin'?"
Oh, great, here we go again. This is what, the third time in two days? Fourth, if you count the one he only heard about afterward. Thomas really should keep Rebekah away from the other girls, he's just been a little slow on the uptake. "Sounds like he wanted someone barefoot and pregnant," he says to Tamara. "A real winner."
Tamara arches a cool brow when Rebekah gets all worked up, but if she's in the slightest bit worried about getting punched by the southerner, she doesn't show it. "Domesticated. To be domestic. Of or pertaining to the home," she defines for the other woman, making it a point to speak slowly. Looking back to Thomas, her smile returns and she rolls her eyes slightly. "A winner. Indeed. Both of us were bound to be very disappointed." She lets out a breath, an 'oh well' sort of sigh. "Oh, I probably should. But a life in bed is one not worth living."
Rebekah calms instantly. This is what happens when she has arguments at work. She gets on the paranoia side. There is an apologetic smile given to Tamara. "Sorry, Ah so't have been gettin' a lot of slack lately. Ah speak slow, don't mean I am dumb though." She offers to the slowed speaking, but it's not a hostile comment. Her spirits rising back up and less combative. "Well.. bed ain't all bad." There is a chuckle and then a frown. "Y'all want me to come ovah and cook somethan' foh ya tomorrow oh some such?"
Did she just say—? Hell, she did, didn't she. But miracle of miracles, Rebekah doesn't rise to take the bait that time. Leaving it at that, Thomas just shakes his head and heads down the hall a little ways, unlocking his door and glancing inside while he waits for the others to finish up with the small talk.
"Of course not," Tamara replies without missing a beat, pleasant smile still in place. "But I'm sure that won't be necessary. That's what delivery menus are for, right?" Her gaze follows Thomas for a moment as he moves down the hall towards his own door, but she's soon enough looking back to Rebekah. "Thank you though. I'm sure you have quite enough on your schedule as it is."
Rebekah follows Tamara following Thomas, or maybe she's just following Thomas as well. "Oh Ah can always make time foh new f'iends.." If she's getting the insults, she's not rising to them. There is a glance though of her blue eyes towards the woman thoughtfully. Then she smiles even more Southern, "Ain't y'all just precious…"
Meanwhile, Thomas is getting them just fine, or at least he thinks they're intended that way. Not as bad as it was earlier at the bar, but still, time to get pushy again. "C'mon, Rebekah," he says, opening the door wider, "she'll let us know if she needs help." Slight emphasis on the 'needs' part.
"I'm many things, but I'm not sure precious is among them," Tamara replies easily, her smile still in place. As Thomas calls Rebekah off, Tamara gives a nod, almost like she's gesturing for Rebekah to go on and join him - or maybe she's just agreeing to his words. "Yes, I'll be sure to let you know if there's anything. You have a good night." She starts unlocking her own door again, although her attention remains mostly on the pair.
Rebekah arches her brows for a moment and then smiles that ever bright smile. "Why ya just take ca'e of yaself. Let us know if'n ya need anythan'." She moves towards Thomas in those leather pants from work. "Suhe Sugah, Ah'll follow ya right in."
Thomas nods to Rebekah, moving aside to give her room— and as soon as she's inside, the door is quickly shut and latched. Things seemed to be going smooth there at the end, but you never know what will end up setting someone off until it actually happens. Things are dangerous enough without piling on.
