Diana could hardly pay attention the next day, it seemed as though a man talking to her through a wall was suddenly more interesting than Shakespeare, which might have concerned her if she'd been thinking straight.
Nothing was more interesting than Shakespeare.
Still, even when she had tapped her pencil against the desk so hard it had snapped in two, she still didn't seem aware of her rare state. It seemed perfectly natural to her that her feet seemed incapable of being still, and that she needed to have something moving in her hands all the time. Less than three hours of sleep and she bounced with more energy than she had since her first case. And why not? She'd never used Morse Code before, let alone to talk to someone through the wall of an apartment building. Some insane part of her saw this as a new and endless project and leapt at the opportunity for something paranormal.
She anticipated the end of class with the eagerness of a high school student, and practically bounced home, forgetting to go to the police station entirely and biding her time until that evening. It wasn't until around four o'clock that she actually thought about what she was doing, and disgusted with herself, put on the layers of sweaters again and walked down to the station.
"Back again," said Greenly, whose small-eyed face lit up at the sight of her.
"Yeah. I wanted to see if there was any news on that robber."
"Sorry. It looks like you're still out of a lot of money."
Diana gave a melodramatic sigh.
"If you're having problems I'd be more than happy to give you a free meal… say eight o'clock and dressin' sharp?"
"Thanks," said Diana, appalled at his accent. "Actually that'd be wonderful."
Curse you David. The things I do for this job…
"Really?" Poor guy probably hadn't had a date since conception.
"Yeah. I'd like that." Diana gave a forced smile.
"Where do you live?" he asked eagerly.
"I'll meet you here." She started to walk away. "Eight?"
"Yeah."
Which of course meant that she would likely miss the meeting with the wall man tonight. She clenched her fists, and then unclenched the left one to wave goodbye to the resident police moron.
If she hadn't cared about waking up the building, Diana would have screamed upon returning home from the "date." She hadn't gotten much, just another heroic rendition of the appearance of the saints in Boston and an eerie flashback of the first time she'd ever watched West Side Story every time Greenly opened his mouth.
She opened microwave, shoving in a mug full of water and grabbing the most soothing tea she could find from the cabinet. She rubbed her temple with one hand, the other struggling with the back of the red dress she'd chosen to try and get Greenly to spill his pathetic little world into her waiting bosom. It might have sounded cheap… but it worked most of the time. Why change effective tactics because of their outdate. In all honesty, testosterone never seemed to go out of date.
Closing the microwave with one foot and reaching across the table to grab the sugar, Diana hissed at the pain in her calves. She'd forgotten to take the heels off. This was how the first set of dents appeared in the wall of the kitchen. Diana was so angry at the FBI at the moment that even with her meticulous nature she only muttered about "cheap bastards" and "pay it themselves" while leaving the kitchen… tea in hand.
She sat down on her bed, and set the tea down on the bedside table, and just in time too, because the minute it left her hand the man next door started tapping on the wall, and she jumped about a foot in the air.
BAD DAY?
WHY DO YOU ASK?
I HEARD A BANGING ABOUT OVER THERE.
DID I WAKE YOU?
NAH. DA AND MY BR……. THE REST OF THEM JUST WENT TO BED.
OH. WELL GOOD.
APPARENTLY NOT.
I WOULD SIGH IF I COULD DO THAT THROUGH A WALL.
I WILL ASSUME THAT YOU DID.
I AM, AND WILL CONTINUE TO.
THAT IS ALRIGHT. GIRLS ARE PRETTY WHEN THEY SIGH.
IS THAT SO?
WELL… WHEN THEY SIGH OVER ME.
I DO NOT SUPPOSE YOU WOULD ASSUME THAT I HAVE JUST HIT YOU THROUGH THE WALL?
IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER.
GOOD. CONSIDER YOURSELF SMACKED.
JUST TRYING TO CHEER YOU UP.
AND YOU ARE. THANK YOU.
SINCERITY? FROM YOU?
SHUTUP.
CANT… I AM NOT REALLY TALKING.
TRUST A MAN TO CONCERN HIMSELF WITH THE DETAILS THAT DO NOT MATTER.
TRUST A WOMAN TO HIT A MAN THROUGH A WALL.
HAH.. DO NOT BE OFFENDED. IT WAS AN IMPULSE.
I UNDERSTAND.
OKAY.
DO YOU FEEL BETTER YET?
A BIT.
I COULD COME OVER.
ONCE AGAIN, I AM NOT DRESSED.
I FEEL BETTER.
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO.
RIGHT. IF YOU LET ME COME OVER I COULD DANCE FOR YOU.
SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER, NOT WORSE.
YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN ME DANCE.
YES, LETS KEEP IT THAT WAY.
UNJUSTIFIABLY CRUEL. I TAKE PRIDE IN MY DANCING.
AND SINGING TOO I SUPPOSE?
CANNOT DANCE WITHOUT SONG EH?
I SUPPOSE NOT.
I BET YOU COULD SING FOR ME THOUGH.
YOU WOULD NOT LIKE IT.
I AM SURE I WOULD.
AND I AM SURE YOU WOULD NOT.
YOUR FLATTERY IS LESS EFFECTIVE THROUGH A WALL.
AH BUT NOW YOU ARE AMUSED WITH THOUGHTS OF ME DANCING FOR YOU.
PERHAPS.
IF IT HELPS. I AM NOT OBESE.
YES. IT HELPS.
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE LIKE?
I AM A STUDENT.
YES.
I STUDY A LOT, AND I EAT AND SLEEP.
YOU DO NOT SLEEP.
WELL…. STUDY A LOT, EAT, AND TALK TO MEN THROUGH WALLS.
WELL THAT IS INTERESTING.
INDEED.
DO YOU DRINK COFFEE?
TEA.
NO COFFEE?
NO.
YOU ARE A STUDENT AND YOU DO NOT DRINK COFFEE?
YES.
YOU ARE WEIRD.
I AM HEALTHY.
YES. THAT IS WEIRD.
ONLY IF YOU ARE A TWENTY-SOMETHING BACHELOR.
DO NOT KNOCK IT.
REALLY?
WHAT?
YOU ARE THE TWENTY-SOMETHING BACHELOR.
YES.
OH.
WHY?
I SUPPOSE I WAS EXPECTING SOMEONE WITH AN AGE TO MATCH THE IQ.
OUCH. YOU WOUND ME WITH YOUR WIT.
I AM SORRY. I DO IMPROV COMEDY. BEING MEAN IS FUNNY.
I SUPPOSE IT IS. I MYSELF AM LAUGHING AT YOU.
AND MAKING ME FEEL BETTER?
MY LAUGH MAKES THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE.
REALLY?
SAINT.
YOU HAVE BEEN SAYING.
I LIKE YOU.
I HOPE SO.
REALLY?
WHO TALKS THROUGH A WALL TO PEOPLE THEY DO NOT LIKE AT ONE IN THE MORNING?
RIGHT. INSANE. YES.
YES. SANE PEOPLE CAN ALWAYS TALK THROUGH WALLS.
ABSOLUTELY.
RIGHT.
TELL ME YOUR NAME.
DIANA.
SEE. THAT WAS NOT HARD.
WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
CONNOR.
IRISH?
YES.
I SHOULD HAVE GUESSED.
WHY?
I WILL TELL YOU SOMEDAY. NOT NOW.
GREAT.
GREAT?
YES. YOU WILL TELL ME SOMEDAY. THIS MEANS WE HAVE TO KEEP TALKING.
DOES IT MEAN THAT MUCH TO YOU?
YES. I LIKE YOU.
YES. YOU SAID THAT.
DO YOU LIKE ME?
I DO NOT KNOW YOU.
THEN WE WILL FIX THAT.
THROUGH A WALL?
OF COURSE.
I WILL HAVE TO TAKE YOUR WORD FOR IT.
SEE? ALREADY THERE IS TRUST.
DO NOT PUT WORDS IN MY MOUTH.
I AM NOT. YOU ARE NOT SPEAKING.
INCONSEQUENTIAL DETAILS.
DIDN'T IT HURT TO TAP OUT THAT WORD?
NOT AS MUCH AS I AM SURE TRANSLATING IT HURT YOUR BRAIN.
YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL WAY WITH WORDS.
YES. AND YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL WAY WITH PERCUSSIVE SOUNDS.
I SAID I WAS SORRY.
YES. YOU DID.
GO TO YOUR DOOR?
WHY?
I HAVE LEFT YOU A PRESENT.
…..
OK.
Timidly, Diana made her way to the door, hissing as her feet hit the cold tiles in the kitchen. She looked through the peephole, making sure there was no one there, and cautiously opened up the door.
There, lying on the ground, was a mug full of hot chocolate and another book. Diana smiled as she picked it up.
The Lark's Time a collection of Elizabethan poetry.
Grinning madly, she walked back into the apartment and shut the door. Taking the book and hot chocolate with her she wandered into the bedroom.
IT IS BEAUTIFUL.
AYE… SWISS MISS IS BEAUTIFUL.
THE BOOK IDIOT.
OH YES. THANK YOU.
NO. THANK YOU. IT IS WONDERFUL.
YOU ARE WELCOME.
IT WILL BE NICE TO READ SOMETHING ELSE FROM THAT ERA.
SO CAN I COME OVER NOW?
ONLY IF I CAN SHOVE YOUR BOOK UP… WELL…
I WILL TAKE THAT AS A NO.
YES. NO.
MAKE UP YOUR MIND WOMAN.
I TOLD YOU MY NAME.
AND IT IS LOVELY. DIANA.
I WOULD THANK YOU. BUT THIS TIME I DO NOT THINK YOU DESERVE IT.
THIS IS TRUE. I AM ONLY SAVING MY OWN ARSE.
DIGNITY.
YES. SORRY.
IT IS GETTING VERY LATE.
YOU MEAN EARLY.
YES.
THEN YOU SHOULD GO TO SLEEP.
GETTING THERE.
GOODNIGHT.
GOODNIGHT.
Her conversations with Connor became so regular that she made a conscious effort to never have to do anything during the night so that she was free to talk to him. When she was late coming home she'd worry about him wondering where she was, something she hadn't worried about since her mother died. It was almost like she had a brother or family member at home, but not really at home.
She wondered what he would do if she did leave, or if she didn't come home for a few days. Would he worry? Did he care about her that much? It certainly seemed like he might. Why else would he continue to stay up till whatever time in the morning to tell her about his mother and Boston and listen to her talk about L.A. and Shakespeare?
