Post by Karl Storm on Jul 24, 2009 16:16:31 GMT -5
The shrill bell of the house phone cuts through the mid afternoon air, it rings and rings with no sign of the person on the callers end growing impatient of their wait. Eventually Karl Storm stirs from his slumber and struggles from under his bed clothes, it takes him a moment or two to escape the embrace of his wayward sheets but eventually he frees himself. Sitting up, blinking in the light that streams in from half open curtains he grumbles and shoots the phone a venomous glare before snatching it up.
What?
No hello for an old friend? Your manners just get worse and worse, Karl.
The gentle tone of the womans voice causes his eyes to narrow, a sour taste fills his mouth and he spits his words out again, although there's less venom in his voice this time despite his best efforts.
How did you get this number?
A soft sigh is all the response he receives from the other party and then a silence hangs between them. Storm chews his lip thoughtfully, weighing up just putting down the receiver and rolling over to go back to sleep. After a minute he just sighs himself, knowing full well that she won't leave him alone now that she's found him.
What do you want, Mykayla?
Did you read my letter?
His eyes flicker across to the dresser across the room where his Commonwealth Crown rests, water damaged envelope sitting unopened on top of it.
Been busy, haven't really had time.
Laughter greets his response, like soft music filling his ears and making him bite his lip in order to stop himself from joining in. Her laugh always was infectious to him, one of the few things that ever elicited a genuine response. The fact that it still affects him just irritates him now.
What's so funny? Ugh, you know what? It doesn't matter, I have a big match coming up. I need to prepare so-
Another laugh, the slightest hint of mockery tinging the edges of her tone this time. He reaches up to massage the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger slowly, still half tempted to hang up on her.
I saw, John Cena tonight, eh? Matt Kraven soon after. You really are in the big leagues now, maybe carving out a legend?
I don't want a legend.
He whispers it, his voice as petulant as the set of his face but despite it creeping out almost silently she still picks it up. That or she guesses, she was always good at guessing the kind of things he would say. Either way she laughs again, this time the mockery is front and centre and it makes him bristle, but more than that it makes a smile creep unbidden to his lips and that just irks him more.
Don't try and play that with me. You're right about one thing, you have had big matches since you jumped over the pond and you've got another couple of big ones coming up.
You forget something though.
What?
I know you. When you say you've been preparing all I get is the image of all the preparation I've seen you do before. So how many "reps" have you done for this one, huh? How many times has the arm reached for the glass, the glass come to the mouth, the mouth swallowed the liquor? How much "sparring" have you done, huh? How many girls have you gone through since you arrived?
Bigger matches just mean bigger parties, you never prepare. You never have to. And you might be able to fool other people with that "just challenge me! Just prove that I need to try!" crap, but, like I said, I know you. And I know that you've never wanted to.
He sighs and closes his eyes tightly, that urge to slam down the phone is rising but for some reason he just grips the receiver tighter.
Maybe things have changed?
You never change. Maybe you should, but then maybe you shouldn't. Either way, you never do.
Maybe-
You should come home?
I'm not welcome back there, it was made pretty clear. Or don't you remember that?
It was for your own good. That thing just heaps stress on you, and you're not well whenever you have it.
He bites his lip and rubs the bridge of his nose a little more firmly, his eyes glance over to the dresser and he bites harder still. The skin on the back of his neck and his scalp starts to crawl and he rolls his neck slowly.
I am fine. I have to go though. And tell Fulton that he will not be receiving my next number.
Good day, Mykayla.
He puts the phone down gently, giving it a brief moment before pulling the receiver off the hook and leaving it on the side. He runs his fingers through his hair slowly and looks up, gives a gentle shrug and an easy smile.
I know, I know. None of them can really be trusted anymore, not after what they tried to do.
He lays back and gazes up at the ceiling, his easy smile is gone and he just chews on his lip while he mulls what she said over.
End scene.
What?
No hello for an old friend? Your manners just get worse and worse, Karl.
The gentle tone of the womans voice causes his eyes to narrow, a sour taste fills his mouth and he spits his words out again, although there's less venom in his voice this time despite his best efforts.
How did you get this number?
A soft sigh is all the response he receives from the other party and then a silence hangs between them. Storm chews his lip thoughtfully, weighing up just putting down the receiver and rolling over to go back to sleep. After a minute he just sighs himself, knowing full well that she won't leave him alone now that she's found him.
What do you want, Mykayla?
Did you read my letter?
His eyes flicker across to the dresser across the room where his Commonwealth Crown rests, water damaged envelope sitting unopened on top of it.
Been busy, haven't really had time.
Laughter greets his response, like soft music filling his ears and making him bite his lip in order to stop himself from joining in. Her laugh always was infectious to him, one of the few things that ever elicited a genuine response. The fact that it still affects him just irritates him now.
What's so funny? Ugh, you know what? It doesn't matter, I have a big match coming up. I need to prepare so-
Another laugh, the slightest hint of mockery tinging the edges of her tone this time. He reaches up to massage the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger slowly, still half tempted to hang up on her.
I saw, John Cena tonight, eh? Matt Kraven soon after. You really are in the big leagues now, maybe carving out a legend?
I don't want a legend.
He whispers it, his voice as petulant as the set of his face but despite it creeping out almost silently she still picks it up. That or she guesses, she was always good at guessing the kind of things he would say. Either way she laughs again, this time the mockery is front and centre and it makes him bristle, but more than that it makes a smile creep unbidden to his lips and that just irks him more.
Don't try and play that with me. You're right about one thing, you have had big matches since you jumped over the pond and you've got another couple of big ones coming up.
You forget something though.
What?
I know you. When you say you've been preparing all I get is the image of all the preparation I've seen you do before. So how many "reps" have you done for this one, huh? How many times has the arm reached for the glass, the glass come to the mouth, the mouth swallowed the liquor? How much "sparring" have you done, huh? How many girls have you gone through since you arrived?
Bigger matches just mean bigger parties, you never prepare. You never have to. And you might be able to fool other people with that "just challenge me! Just prove that I need to try!" crap, but, like I said, I know you. And I know that you've never wanted to.
He sighs and closes his eyes tightly, that urge to slam down the phone is rising but for some reason he just grips the receiver tighter.
Maybe things have changed?
You never change. Maybe you should, but then maybe you shouldn't. Either way, you never do.
Maybe-
You should come home?
I'm not welcome back there, it was made pretty clear. Or don't you remember that?
It was for your own good. That thing just heaps stress on you, and you're not well whenever you have it.
He bites his lip and rubs the bridge of his nose a little more firmly, his eyes glance over to the dresser and he bites harder still. The skin on the back of his neck and his scalp starts to crawl and he rolls his neck slowly.
I am fine. I have to go though. And tell Fulton that he will not be receiving my next number.
Good day, Mykayla.
He puts the phone down gently, giving it a brief moment before pulling the receiver off the hook and leaving it on the side. He runs his fingers through his hair slowly and looks up, gives a gentle shrug and an easy smile.
I know, I know. None of them can really be trusted anymore, not after what they tried to do.
He lays back and gazes up at the ceiling, his easy smile is gone and he just chews on his lip while he mulls what she said over.
End scene.
