03-04-2019, 04:38 PM
Susan heard Alcohol's remix of a laugh that she'd only ever caught hints at before, making the corners of her own lips take an upturn as well.
She followed Helen closely in the media, which was why she got a phone alert about the attack. It wasn't out of friendly enthusiasm, nor desire to see an enemy's humiliation; simply because Helen's and Maria's were the only names the media ever mentioned that she could say that she knew outside of a convention hall setting.
She knew Contessa Helena de San Finzione's laugh; the real one as well as the fake. Despite nearly being able to smell the booze on her breath from out of the house's sound system, Susan knew that for the first time, she was hearing Helen Parker laugh.
It caused the upturn in her lips. A new tiny "thing" that she now shared with the other members of the "club" of which Troy, Julie, and Helen had been lifelong members and she'd only recently joined and moved swiftly through the ranks. It was too tinged with the fact that coming as it did made what she had to do after this all the more personal as well to be called a smile.
"Oh! We're still on four! OK. So, four was if someone's out to get you, whatever. Just stay down, or whatever they tell you; and let the Ultimados take care of any violence. That's just what Ultimados DO! They're all like, 'What's the fucking point of a License to Kill if you never get to use it?' I mean, I picked them to look out for you guys because they're nice guys, but ALSO because they're bad motherfuckers. YOU just worry about getting here, Susan. You can always just come to Sa... no, fuck that, I'm not going to say it. Just fucking get here!" Another pause in recording, and another cigarette lit when she returned.
The next jump in the recording showed Helen with a cup of black coffee in her hand and a velvet ice pack on her head.
"I kinda want to go back and re-record or edit that, but I also kinda don't." Another jump, and Susan was looking at Contessa Helena de San Finzione again; hair in place, in a satin robe and lighting a new cigarette.
"Ok, last thing. If there's some kind of crisis in progress, chances are good that you've either already met or are about to meet a man named Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez, Supreme Commander of my Armed Forces; you've probably seen him on TV with me. I flirt with him sometimes, he plays it off cool, all 'I'm married,' it's fun. But if he tells you something, do it. Or believe it, whichever. You're a Trekkie, so I know you've seen Firefly too. I don't feel like looking up the exact quote, but you remember that thing about living with a man for forty years and eating and talking to him and... damn..."
There was another pause. When she resumed, Helen was reading something from the monitor and her cigarette had burned out.
"All right, it's 'Live with a man 40 years. Share his house, his meals. Speak on every subject. Then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man.'"
She looked back to the camera.
"In Uongo, Ramirez and I went to the edge of that volcano and held each other over it. I met him and he met me. And when we came down, he was my Generalissimo."
She paused, reached for the cigarette that had burned out, decided against another, and continued.
"I trust him. The only other living man that I can say that about is probably either watching along with you or wherever Julie is. I've had meetings with the Pope, and it's still just those two guys."
Thinking of Troy reminded Susan of the task she still had ahead of her. The video had done nothing to assuage her dread, and it was starting to get light out. She worried that if she waited much longer one of them might wake up and learn the hard way. The last time something had happened to Helen, she'd asked Susan not to tell them until the media got hold of the story. She hadn't this time.
On the screen, Helen said more.
"I'm sure there's a clock ticking somewhere, so I'll wrap this up. But before I go; I know nobody wants to think about it and hope it's not the case. However, it's me and my head; and I can't NOT have the thought 'Susan could be watching this because I've died.' So, there's a couple short things to say there too.
"If you remember our first conversation, you told me about how empty promises of 'it won't happen again' are. You were absolutely right. I've seen a man get a haircut and stick a Bible in his hand and tell a parole board how changed and reformed he is, then make me distract the cashier while he shoplifted beer on the way home. So, I know how worthless that statement can be. The thing is, I didn't promise you, I promised Troilus Equals. Are you at all able to lie to that man? If so, I want to live now, just so you can tell me the secret."
Helen sighed before continuing.
"I know that our relationship can currently be summed up by the last words we said to each other: Don't die. I hope we've had more words since then, and that they've been good ones. As things are, I feel like I'd be getting ahead of myself by using the word 'friend,' but I hope between now and whenever you see this, it's become more possible.
She followed Helen closely in the media, which was why she got a phone alert about the attack. It wasn't out of friendly enthusiasm, nor desire to see an enemy's humiliation; simply because Helen's and Maria's were the only names the media ever mentioned that she could say that she knew outside of a convention hall setting.
She knew Contessa Helena de San Finzione's laugh; the real one as well as the fake. Despite nearly being able to smell the booze on her breath from out of the house's sound system, Susan knew that for the first time, she was hearing Helen Parker laugh.
It caused the upturn in her lips. A new tiny "thing" that she now shared with the other members of the "club" of which Troy, Julie, and Helen had been lifelong members and she'd only recently joined and moved swiftly through the ranks. It was too tinged with the fact that coming as it did made what she had to do after this all the more personal as well to be called a smile.
"Oh! We're still on four! OK. So, four was if someone's out to get you, whatever. Just stay down, or whatever they tell you; and let the Ultimados take care of any violence. That's just what Ultimados DO! They're all like, 'What's the fucking point of a License to Kill if you never get to use it?' I mean, I picked them to look out for you guys because they're nice guys, but ALSO because they're bad motherfuckers. YOU just worry about getting here, Susan. You can always just come to Sa... no, fuck that, I'm not going to say it. Just fucking get here!" Another pause in recording, and another cigarette lit when she returned.
The next jump in the recording showed Helen with a cup of black coffee in her hand and a velvet ice pack on her head.
"I kinda want to go back and re-record or edit that, but I also kinda don't." Another jump, and Susan was looking at Contessa Helena de San Finzione again; hair in place, in a satin robe and lighting a new cigarette.
"Ok, last thing. If there's some kind of crisis in progress, chances are good that you've either already met or are about to meet a man named Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez, Supreme Commander of my Armed Forces; you've probably seen him on TV with me. I flirt with him sometimes, he plays it off cool, all 'I'm married,' it's fun. But if he tells you something, do it. Or believe it, whichever. You're a Trekkie, so I know you've seen Firefly too. I don't feel like looking up the exact quote, but you remember that thing about living with a man for forty years and eating and talking to him and... damn..."
There was another pause. When she resumed, Helen was reading something from the monitor and her cigarette had burned out.
"All right, it's 'Live with a man 40 years. Share his house, his meals. Speak on every subject. Then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man.'"
She looked back to the camera.
"In Uongo, Ramirez and I went to the edge of that volcano and held each other over it. I met him and he met me. And when we came down, he was my Generalissimo."
She paused, reached for the cigarette that had burned out, decided against another, and continued.
"I trust him. The only other living man that I can say that about is probably either watching along with you or wherever Julie is. I've had meetings with the Pope, and it's still just those two guys."
Thinking of Troy reminded Susan of the task she still had ahead of her. The video had done nothing to assuage her dread, and it was starting to get light out. She worried that if she waited much longer one of them might wake up and learn the hard way. The last time something had happened to Helen, she'd asked Susan not to tell them until the media got hold of the story. She hadn't this time.
On the screen, Helen said more.
"I'm sure there's a clock ticking somewhere, so I'll wrap this up. But before I go; I know nobody wants to think about it and hope it's not the case. However, it's me and my head; and I can't NOT have the thought 'Susan could be watching this because I've died.' So, there's a couple short things to say there too.
"If you remember our first conversation, you told me about how empty promises of 'it won't happen again' are. You were absolutely right. I've seen a man get a haircut and stick a Bible in his hand and tell a parole board how changed and reformed he is, then make me distract the cashier while he shoplifted beer on the way home. So, I know how worthless that statement can be. The thing is, I didn't promise you, I promised Troilus Equals. Are you at all able to lie to that man? If so, I want to live now, just so you can tell me the secret."
Helen sighed before continuing.
"I know that our relationship can currently be summed up by the last words we said to each other: Don't die. I hope we've had more words since then, and that they've been good ones. As things are, I feel like I'd be getting ahead of myself by using the word 'friend,' but I hope between now and whenever you see this, it's become more possible.
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