☎ voicemail [v 2.0]

[as_damaged]

❝You've reached Allison Cameron, please leave a message.❞

☎ voicemail ☎ text message ☞ action

[ooc: retired thread, for reference, here.]

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[as_damaged]

[She checks the peephole and cracks the door open, standing in the open space.]

[entangles]

[ Olivia stands there in a Northwestern t-shirt and sweatpants, bearing a glass bowl of steaming pasta. ]

Hungry?

[as_damaged]

[She gives the other woman a brief, appraising look. If Cameron's any good at reading a situation-- which, lately, she questions-- this looks like a tacit apology. She smiles slightly, and steps back to open the door.]

Thank you. Come in?

[entangles]

[ Olivia tucks the glass bowl under an arm and steps into the apartment. She feels out of a place, apprehensive even, after all the trouble she's caused Cameron. It's apparent in her body language, though Olivia's never been that great at disguising her discomfort. ]

Hi. [ And with that, the tiniest smile. ] I hope you like penne prima vera.

[as_damaged]

[Showing up with surprise dinner is decidedly preferable to showing up at three in the morning with problems.]

It smells great.

[She gets the door behind them, then heads for the kitchen for plates and silverware and such. She doesn't entertain much, but given the City's punishment for solitude she's fairly willing to make the effort when she does.]

[entangles]

[ Almost as soon as she steps inside the apartment, the ticking silences. It's the first thing that Olivia notices, even if she doesn't comment on it-- obviously, Cameron must be aware of it too.

She sets the glass bowl on the kitchen table and helps Cameron lay out the silverware. Undertaken in silence, the two of them perpetuate an air of awkwardness, thick enough you could cut through it with a knife. What to say? ]

I-- I wanted to thank you for helping me. [ She places down the last cup. ] I would have had a tough time getting out of there- without your help.

[as_damaged]

Billy Kaplan deserves more credit than I do,

[she hedges, as she takes her seat, though she doesn't entirely distance herself from Olivia's gratitude. It's a mark of how much it troubles her, having been lied to.]

Believe it or not, I'd seen that before. A colleague of mine got stuck there, once.

[entangles]

You got the message out there.

[ If Cameron were to refuse her company, refuse her apology even, Olivia wouldn't hold it against her. She knows that a lie is never simply a lie.

Pulling out a chair, Olivia sits down as Cameron takes her seat. ]

Was he-- she trying to cross dimensions?

[as_damaged]

[She shakes her head.]

It was an accident. Honestly, I'm not sure of the details.

[She helps herself to the pasta. The truth is she doesn't have enough friends (even just casual ones) here to let them go easily, and as upset as she is... she's worried, too. Trying to get out of the City is more or less the national pastime here, but Olivia's methods are extreme.]

Is... that what you were doing? With the tank?

[entangles]

That was my intention, yes. As strange as it must have seemed.

[ She's not eating the pasta yet, just shifting the noodles on her plate absentmindedly as Olivia finds herself pulled into her thoughts once again. Should she tell Cameron about Cortexiphan? Can she trust her? Is there any reason to tell her?

Olivia takes a bite. ]

Who was it? Your friend?

[as_damaged]

Doctor Chase.

[Her answer is equally absent, because she's wondering about that. Crossing universes on the back of psychedelic drugs. And what that has to do with Olivia's reluctance to share the details of... well, anything.]

Other than the divide between the Glass City and the desert, it's the only time I've seen that kind of distortion. Between that and the video you left...

[She pokes at her own food.]

[entangles]

The Australian.

[ You need to think 4th dimensionally, Cameron. Open your mind, Walter Bishop, would say. ]

But how did he cross over?

[as_damaged]

[She shakes her head slightly.]

It wasn't intentional. I'm not sure of the details.

[Something magical, which means she didn't really want to know; and of course the concern had been for getting him out, not assigning blame.]