Even though the day went so wrong Who: Amanda Where: Home When: Evening
"Mother, you’re not going to die.”
Somehow, despite the blank expression of one who was preoccupied, Amanda was managing to sound as though genuine reassurance was not completely out of her grasp. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her mother’s obvious concerns. She just had better things to do than recite that one sentence until it occurred to Tiffany that putting down the phone and picking up the liquor was a more productive course of action. “No, daddy isn’t going to die either.” Juggling her Blackberry and several files that apparently needed her attention, she frowned into mid-air. All her mother did was hear the words ‘demons’, ‘angels’ and ‘fae’ on the television and didn’t bother listening to the rest-- “Mom. Mother. Hold on, I’ve got another call.” And it had better be good.
“Amanda Blake.” There were demons and god only knew what else wandering around and people were still RSVPing to the wedding. She couldn’t figure out what that said about them, exactly, but it was making her life easier, so she didn’t really care. There weren’t exactly demons on the telephone lines, were there? Nevertheless, it was another name to tick off the guest list which was... in the study.
“Mother, hi-- What? ... Which channel have you been watching?” Dear god. If this is a test, please let me pass. It would be tragic if I killed my own mother before killing Cameron’s. With the presence of mind to recognise one of Tiffany’s tangents before it really started, Amanda set the Blackberry on speakerphone, the files on the desk (what? Cameron wasn’t using it) and went to make a cup of coffee. She couldn’t hear what was actually being said from the kitchen, but she could still hear the tinny pitch of her mother’s voice while she tried to drill home certain ‘truths’ that she had picked up from god knew where. ‘Ridiculous’ wasn’t really the word.
And that was the sound of Tiffany Montgomery-Blake realising her daughter had left her on speakerphone.
Eyes rolling, Amanda dropped herself into the chair and picked up the phone. “Yes, I was listening.” A shameless lie to answer the question that had not yet been asked. Fortunately, her mother was not currently sharp enough to point out the guilty conscience behind such a remark. Possibly because her daughter simply didn’t do guilt. “Cam is fine, mom. We both are.” Obviously Amanda was fine if she was available to sound increasingly irritated and the little signs of life around the house confirmed that Cameron was not dead, so what was the point of this call? Oh, right. To remind her to be careful. Because getting married without a pulse was unacceptable. Ew. Wrinkling her nose, she tried to push the mental image of a zombie-vampire wedding out of her head and refused to think of the children.
Her one idle hand leafed through the nearest of her files, then the next (of course they would need her attention if the person who originally put them together was completely incompetent) before her fingers found the edge of the book she had set them upon. With Tiffany’s monologue ongoing, Amanda murmured a vague noise of agreement as she moved the files aside. Huh. Absentmindedly tracing the edge with her index finger, she actually made the effort to listen to her mother for all of ten seconds. It really wasn’t worth her time. “Attacks are down over sixty percent, mom-- No, you won’t be in the other forty.” Besides, it wouldn’t be forty percent, it would be thirty-six. She glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t know where Cameron was, exactly, but he wasn’t in her line of sight, so...
“Mother. I love you, but demons will not think twice about attacking you just because you’re on the phone to your daughter.” The cover flipped open. Amanda checked the doorway again. She had never been the kind of person who necessarily believed in the privacy of others. Information was public property, in her opinion, and if you didn’t want someone knowing what was going on inside your head then you just shouldn’t write it down. But she had never known Cameron to keep a journal. Once the fleeting moment of conflict had passed she buried what precious little guilt she felt over reading it. Arguably far too easily done, but there was a buzzing in her ear that she couldn’t just hang up on and once she had read the first line there was little point in stopping. Not when she had already seen her name mentioned multiple times. Unless she knew what had been written, she believed writing about her to be as bad as talking about her behind her back. Except she knew what they were saying then, too.
Skimming the part about demons - she was well-versed in it herself and would have to refrain from adding her own input - her attention flicked between the parts pertaining to her. “Sorry, what?” For a split second she had forgotten her mother was there. “No, I am listening. Go ahead.” Spoken in the same distracted tone people received when they tried tearing her from her work. Or when she just didn’t want to speak to them. In this case a mixture of the two applied.
Dial tone.
Tiffany had hung up.
Amanda flicked her phone shut without thinking twice, a smile playing about her lips.
And Cameron just wanted the End of Days to wait until after they were married.