The Phone Interview

Nathaniel Brideston:
:: crosses his ankles on his desk, taking a bite out of a granny smith apple as he hits the dial button on the speaker phone, and it begins to ring ::

Benjamin Bishop:
*cleaning out his desk as Douglass grabs the files on his computer* Quickly, quickly. *He jerks when the phone rings and eyes it, debating not answering. But then that would just make more noise than they were already making. He grabbed it up quickly, juggling the files under his arm* Dr. Bishop speaking.

Nathaniel Brideston:
Good afternoon, Dr. Bishop. My name is Dr. Nathaniel Brideston, and I'm calling from the St. Matilda Institution and Rehabilitation Hospital, in Vermont. Do you have a moment? :: the crunch as of an apple being bitten into again ::

Benjamin Bishop:
*frowns slightly. St. Matilda's? That...sounds familiar. So does Brideston. Ominously so. Tucking the files into a satchel he moves to the book case.* Of course Doctor, just reading over some files. How can I help you?

Nathaniel Brideston:
:: munch munch munch, swallow :: It has recently come to my attention that you may be in search of something. Or, more pointedly, someone. ... Oh, and that your time at Hadley may be coming to a rather abrupt end of course. :: waves a hand in the air though no-one's there to see it, and takes another bite out of his apple ::

Benjamin Bishop:
*lifts the Physicians Desk Reference from the shelf and opens it to thumb through the pages and pull out pieces of paper with pictures of maps, pass-codes and other scrabbles of information written on them. He isn't listening until the man mentions he's searching. He stills, frowning into the receiver he cradles between his cheek and shoulder. The last sentence sends the heavy text spilling out of his hands and landing on his foot with a loud thud. A soft hiss escapes him before he scoops it back up and shoves it back onto the shelf.* And what makes you say that Doctor? I'm rather enjoying my time at Hadley.

Nathaniel Brideston:
:: shrugs unseen, leaning farther back in his office chair with a slight squeaking of springs. Needed to get that oiled :: You know, little birds. News travels fast. Faster than your investigation, I'll wager. :: crunch, munch, munch ::

Benjamin Bishop:
*Eyes widen and his fingers dig into the bookshelf. Andrew...* Why would my alleged investigation interest you Dr. Brideston? *St. Matilda's...now he remembered. All this time...why had he never looked there? But then again, he'd been looking at New Orleans.*

Nathaniel Brideston:
Because, Dr. Bishop, you've been getting your sticky fingers into my affairs. Luckily for you, I'm not one to hold a grudge, so I propose a bargain of sorts. ... If you still want what you've been 'allegedly' looking for, of course.

Benjamin Bishop:
*Another book, another group of notes - information on a 2 month long quest of searching through patient records, medical institutions and police records. All looking for one man. One man that this disembodied voice claimed to have...* ...And can I be assured that what I'm looking for hasn't been harmed in any way...?

Nathaniel Brideston:
:: laughs on the other end of the line :: I'm not Dr. Mengele, Benjamin Bishop. Do you want to see him or not? I have an appointment very shor- :: a loud thump in the background. Nate's voice is muffled as if his face is turned from the speaker phone :: Stop that, I'm on the telephone. :: the voice clears again :: ... an appointment very shortly.

Benjamin Bishop:
I want to see him. *He bites back a curse as he realizes that he's answered too quickly. He's off his game tonight. Blame the alcohol perhaps. Blame being away from home for too long. He's shown his hand far too quickly and now he has to dance as the man tugs on the noose around his neck.* I want to see him...What do you want?

Nathaniel Brideston:
Your services, as it were. My medical department's going through a bit of a ... shuffle lately, and to be frank, I want you where I can see you, Dr. Sticky Fingers. I trust your plans to remain at Hadley for some time won't interfere with this job opportunity...

Benjamin Bishop:
*blinks* A job? *His eyes meet Douglass' in the dark of the office and he frowns deeply. He doesn't like the feeling of being controlled by anyone, especially someone he worked for. Not like this. But...he's lost his position here. Someone will have been sober enough to report the use of an unidentified sedative on a member of the staff. Not just a staff member, a shrink. Even in self defense...it was still enough to at least warrant an investigation. He couldn't let that happen. He had too many ties that could lead back to the rest of his family. And now it was being threatened again.* ....when can I start..?

Nathaniel Brideston:
:: sounds like he's smiling when he speaks again :: Marvellous. I suppose I ought send you your paperwork to whichever hideaway it is you're running off to then, and I'd like you to start as soon as possible.

Benjamin Bishop:
Send me the address of your institution along with the paperwork. I'll be needing a few days to house shop in the area around there of course. *He sounds resigned...but at least a little relieved. Into one hell hole from another...but he could take care of Andrew at least.*

Nathaniel Brideston:
Oh, no need, Dr. Bishop. All valued employees of the St. Matilda Institution receive on-site housing, free of charge. :: he smiles behind his desk and takes another bite of his apple. All the nuts in one bag, just where he wants them. ::

Benjamin Bishop:
I had assumed such, Dr. Brideston and thank you for your generosity. I will however, still need a few days to house shop. I hope you'll understand. *Back to piling books into the boxes. Everything must go.*

Nathaniel Brideston:
:: swings his legs down off of his desk, leaning his elbows on the edge of it, voice clearer, closer to the speaker perhaps :: Beggers and choosers, Dr. Bishop, beggers and choosers. You have three days to make arrangements. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon. :: click, dial tone ::

Benjamin Bishop:
*stares at the phone in his hand for a few minutes before tossing it to Douglass* Apparently...I have a new job. *He wraps the box in packing tape as Douglass asks where, still packing his own box filled with the computer hard drive and assorted memory sticks and CDs* Another institution....the one Andrew's at. *His eyes meet Douglass' again as there's a soft sound of muffled disbelief and hope from his companion. He nods before hoisting the box and setting it by the door to join the others before moving into the bedroom.* Come on...we have three days to find a house.