as_damaged | ☎ voicemail

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☎ voicemail

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

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[ooc: you know the drill, if you need her and there's no recent post &c &c. whatever. ♥♥♥]

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[Whoa he is not gonna tell her he's spoken to a therapist before.] I don't need to see a shrink.

I'm starting to think you're not feeling sick at all.

Okay. How about a coffee break?

Sounds therapeutic.

Same place same time?

[Just like the last time, he means.]

Well, I suppose I could make the time.

Great. I'll see you.

[Cameron doesn't look happy, particularly, when they both make it there, but at the least she looks composed. Like nothing's wrong, at least. Because obviously, there isn't; this is just a pleasant cup of coffee.]

[Freddy's got his jacket on cause it's still too cold for this Californian. When he comes in the weather's got his skin looking a little bright and thus more freckly. This doens't matter though because he's trying to remain unseen so he can sneak up behind her left shoulder.]

Hey.

[She turns, fixing a smile on her lips. Her hands are clasped in front of her, hinting at the tension she's otherwise managing to hide.]

Hi.

Were you gonna start without me?

[Not that it would matter to Freddy who looks to take a seat somewhere secluded. The hint of tension in her hands doesn't escape his notice.]

That wouldn't be very professional of me, would it?

[She keeps her tone as light as their conversation, happy to let him take the lead because it means the focus isn't on her.]

Well that's a lady's prerogative ain't it?

[He looks at her, hardly serious about the comment because chivalry's dead, at least the old fashioned kind. There's a nice booth and look there's a pie special today. He's already thinking of getting a slice.]

I'd rather be a consummate professional than excuse bad behavior on grounds of being a lady.

[Chivalry's dead, but its last throes weren't all that long ago. From where she's sitting, at least-- but that's irrelevant, of course. All Cameron wants is coffee, and the quiet relief of a few moments' company subtly borrowed.]

In that case you won't mind if I grab a slice of this.

[Freddy points at the picture of some pie drizzled with caramel and strawberries and other sweet tooth type things. It doesn't help that oreos are involved in the making. Then, like an afterthought:]

You can have some too.

I think I might need a doctor, then.

[She laughs.]

But don't let me stop you.

[She leans her forearms on the table, a bit more relaxed. Not much.] So how have you been? Well enough not to end up in the E.R., but beyond that?

Get outta here it's just pie. Pie and coffee.

[That's the order. He's assuming she means she'll need a doctor to diagnosis a sugar overdose...because Freddy's not one to imply a woman is trying to watch her weight.]

Doing alright, not much work coming into the garage cause it's still cold out but hey I'm not complaining. More time for me to work on a motorcycle.

[He's gonna ask her the helmet question very soon.] You?

That pie is a heart attack waiting to happen,

[She's still smiling though, so obviously that's not Real Medical Advice. Still, she won't partake. Not exactly because she's watching her weight (though she always does,) but because she doesn't feel indulgent.]

I'm doing... well, the same as always, really. In between curses and emergencies my life isn't terribly interesting.

But I'll die happy.

[Freddy quips in return with a grin. But not terribly interesting? He doubts that though he also knows better than to just bring up Chase and Claire's revelation without some ounce of fluidity.]

No fun ER stories? [This guy is full of interesting patrol stories, if only he'd told her he's a cop.]

[If only he had, maybe she'd trust him enough to talk about things that mattered.]

I'm afraid you have to be on staff to get the results of the weekly contest, for most interesting item removed from an orifice.

[He gives her a funny look.]

That's not real is it?

[The only answer that question gets is a mysterious little smile.]

[He just keeps looking before leaning in to speak in lower tones while he points a finger at Cameron.]

At least you sound like you love what you do.

It's the kind of job you couldn't keep doing if you didn't find satisfaction in it.

[It's a little bit of a practiced answer, not that that makes it untrue.]

Yeah, I get that. [He nods, empathizing. Oh look here's the coffee.]

Anyone ever give you the whole "you're not the type to work here, what's your angle" deal?

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