A cell phone, she has never possessed one. ‘No, I do not have one. The radiation may cause friction in my brain,’ a light, almost impish smile dusts across her lips momentarily, ‘it feels like static...or so I have heard. Would it feel awful or delicious, I wonder. ‘

Sasha eyes Kara suspiciously at her comments about radiation. What little she had done to charm the Ventrue in this lengthy encounter has been completely undermined in one simple utterance.

"That is absurd." She quickly snaps back, digging in her pocket for the item she placed there a moment ago. Producing a cellphone, she holds it out to Kara as though it were made of platinum.

"I will require you to start carrying one." She adds sternly, her eyes implying that this is not a request. "I also expect you to keep it charged and otherwise in working order. If you do not answer when I call, I will consider you in breach of contract."

Her face softens for a moment, a very slight smile creeping up only one side of her face as she wonders to herself if this is the same reason that Carter refuses to use a cellphone.

"Look at it this way, as long as you don't go around giving the number to anyone, no one but me will ever call you, and I will only call once. Therefore, if the device is not in use; there will be no static in your brain. Furthermore, I can assure you that when I do call, the brain-static you receive from me will be of the 'delicious' variety."

With this, she drops her chin and gives the girl a sultry look, though it disgusts her to stoop to that level, she knows well enough that Kara is not a creature of logic.

Kara cannot help but hold the small, delicate smile upon her lips, the Elder looks so striking when she grows impatient and fidgety!

Ever so gently she takes the cell from Sasha and looks it over, ‘Madam, such a gift...’ eyes rise to the other, ‘I will save it for you and you alone.’ Long, pale fingers trickle over the contraption, memorising each bump and bit of manufactured plastic. ‘If my brain is to fill of radiation it will be a pleasure if it is your radiation.’ Your insanity...your pain...your anguish...your hell....

She looks at the cell, then begins to toy with it, trying to change the call-tone to something odd. Funny, some children have inspiring tunes on their contraptions, why is it she is stuck with something a normal telephone makes? She wants the Muppet Show Theme! ‘Madame, I think this one is broken...’ she gives it a shake then tries to find the Muppets again.

Sasha has pain, anguish, and hell in spades. More than enough to be an honorary member of Kara's clan, and she will certainly share, when the time is right.

For now, Sasha simply winces as Kara begins to shake the device, it is much as she feared, the child seems to have no idea how to use an 'outdated' cell phone, much less one such as this that is right on the bleeding edge of available technology. Ah well, hopefully she will at least be able to answer it.

"It is not broken," Sasha replies indignantly, "you just have to understand how it works."

Her own cellphone, still resting on her desk, begins to ring. "Alas, I have neither the time nor the inclination to teach you tonight, and must bid you farewell."

She ceases to block the laser in the door, allowing them to close. If Kara has nothing further, Sasha will simply hold her gaze until the doors seal and whisk her to the ground floor.

Eyes lift to Sasha, gaze held for a moment. This woman’s patients is about a millimetre long. In some people that can be quite striking.

‘Do not worry, I will figure out how it works. How hard can it be? I have seen idiots toying with such contraptions as if they were born with one in their hand. I am not an idiot.’ Then she gives the Ventrue one final, polite curtsy, slowly rising and holding the cell phone close to her heart-facsimile as the doors close. 'Farewell, madam.'  

--Last edited by UltimateZen on 2009-01-10 10:38:54 --

Sasha is well-mannered enough to wait a whole second after the doors have closed before she shudders and curses the entire Malkavian line under her breath. She feels unclean; an overwhelming urge to wash her hands though she knows it will do little to make the feeling go away. Her sanctum, the only place that the stink of the world outside does not invade, has been sullied.

Turning from the steel doors, she makes her way back to her desk, pressing the button on her phone to end the 'false call' she initiated when she set the device down and then presses stop on the digital voice recorder that silently took down the entire conversation. Sasha reaches down and presses the call button on the intercom.


“Patricia. See to it that Miss Miya has all of her belongings returned to her and exits the building. Also I am sending down an audio file, please send it, as well as a typed transcrïpt, to Mr. Vanderweyden's people through the usual channels. See to it he has it tonight.”

“Yes Miss Moreau.” the woman calls back.

“And arrange for the elevator security key to be replaced with a thumb-scanner. I am tired of carrying this key around.”

“I can have that done by tomorrow night Miss Moreau.”

“Thank you Patricia. Your services are invaluable to me. Oh, and one other thing dear. Send half a dozen sanitation workers up here. Immediately. When you have finished these tasks, you may have the rest of the night off. With pay, as usual.”

The elevator makes it smooth descent to the lobby area, where Patricia awaits with her things. Kara takes them and thanks the woman. Guns slipped into place, holster adjusted just so. ‘You are quite a commodity here, Miss.’ She states politely but silently wonders if the woman is no more than someone’s go-fer.

A polite nod of her head in a farewell, she almost tips the woman for her assistance, but changes her mind just before she slips out the door. Oh what fun it would have been if she had tipped her with the brand new does-not-work-well cell phone of hers! Wouldn’t that cause great mischief? But Kara is a lady, and a lady never goes back on her word.

The cell remains secure for her and her alone.

Tonight is an interesting night. She flares her nostrils as she steps out into the chill. What if it were to rain, would the radiation succumb and frizzle in her pocket?

She heads off into the night. Tomorrow will come wrapped in radiation and bullet holes.