That shout of Mr. Greys brought a definate flinch, almost a cowering away, not that she can...being held onto like she is.

A glance up at Mr. Hyde, looking over the headset with a certain amount of interest.  She's more into computers and data entry herself, but electronic things are always interesting.

Besides it keeps her from thinking.  Although the question does pop up...who is Dvalin?  She's not looking forward to the answer.  

--Last edited by Christine Johnson on 2009-03-21 13:02:12 --

Hyde will carefully pluck the device from his ear, handing it over gingerly to Mister Grey as though it were aluminum-foil-origami. His gaze remains trained on the darkened tunnel that swallowed Buggy's enervated form.

"Bollocks." He says disappointedly when she does not reemerge.

Returning his attention to Grey and then Christine, he first juts out his lower lip before his face is overwhelmed by a slow smile.

"Nah. I don't think 'e'd mind a bit. Actually, I'm sure 'e would very much enjoy the comp'ny. 'E don't get out much these days."

'Well lets git these kiddies introduced then!'

I finally release my snake-like, deathly cold fingers from Christines wrist. I cradle the headset like a wounded baby bird, squinting bug eyes at it and murmering to myself.

'Probably moisure in the microphone, damn things are so sensitive...'

About now, Chris is getting even colder, she's wet, scared and wanting to get dry, and hopefully warm sometime before she collapses.  She can also feel a strange tickle in her throat, so she coughs, lightly, which helps, but not much.

There are so many questions right now, like, why is she here, what is she supposed to be doing here, and is there anything, or any reason for all this.

There is also just the slightest hope that maybe...just maybe Arturo did mean to just hide her away for a short time, then bring her back...he did say he would , after all.

Hyde pulls out his phone as his lanky Broodmate busies himself with the earpiece.

"Call Dvallin." he says to the fragile device in his gravelly voice before holding it up near his head, about an inch from his ear, never actually making contact.

"Oi." he says flatly by way of greeting, "You up fer some comp'ny this mornin'? Ol' Mister Grey's got 'imself a perty lil' thing 'ee'd like you ta keep safe fer 'im 'til th' sun goes down. Whot'a'ya say chap? She ain't too 'ard ta look at."

Hyde falls silent for a moment before bursting into uproarious laughter about something.

"Roight. Glad ta 'ear it ol' man. I'll 'ave th' girl to ya just before sunup."

He puts the device away, still half-smiling from whatever little joke he shared with the man on the other end.

"Done an' done." he says to Grey, looking at the headset with interest "So whot's the diagnosis Doc? Is it terminal?"

2009-05-14 08:48:29 Mr. Grey rolls 7 dice to Diagnostics (Diff 8: Quick and dirty) 3,8,3,5,5, 5,6 (1 success)

With a pop and a twist and a bitten tongue and a few seconds of squinting I look at Hyde with my deformed approximation of the look a million IT professionals give every day.

'Im thinking its user error; but Ill change out the batteries for you- maybe they are gettin low...'

Her shivering is becoming more violent as the chill of the sewers and the fact she's still wet from the travel through them just leeches every bit of warmth from her.  She could swear she's turning blue from cold, as she hugs herself, hoping for a little warmth.

For now, she's thinking of being dry and warm, not of escape or anything else.  

"Ah." says Hyde, "I s'pose that ain't much of a surprise. At least I didn't break it this time." he adds sheepishly.

He glances at Christine as Grey busies himself with the device, furrowing his brow in confusion at her increasingly violent tremors.

"Oi!" he calls to his Broodmate as he rifles around in his nearby chamber, presumably looking for the aforementioned batteries. "I think yer new toy is busted. She's about ta rattle 'erself ta pieces."

'i...its just cold'

Chris will look up with wide, worried eyes.  The last thing she needs is someone thinking she's a weakling.  She very well may be, but one person tossing her out like an old shoe per day is kinda her limit.