If it wasn't for the clear-as-day sarcasm, Noah might have been worried about her being serious. He was still on the fence about it, actually.
Then he realized he was starting to take her claim seriously. He had to call someone, if only to get this woman the help she so clearly needed.
"I'm sorry, but I just don't think you're-"
"Noah Sullivan, twenty-five, photographer. I've been observing you for the past few days now-"
"That was you??"
"-and I am confident I have found the correct Noah Sullivan. Am I wrong?"
Noah's thoughts started racing. He hadn't been going crazy, someone had been following him after all. The confirmation wasn't as reassuring as he'd hoped it would be, but facts were facts. He had to get her distracted, somehow, preferably out of the room so that he could make his phone calls. How? She didn't seem like she would take being tricked very kindly, and despite her having some issues, she sounded lucid.
"I...you're really an angel?"
"Have I given any evidence otherwise?"
Okay, he thought, so she enjoys dry sarcasm. That, or she takes everything literally.
"It's just...I'd need some proof." An idea struck. "Photographic evidence. Can I take your picture?" He held his camera up and tried to smile. The look on her face was almost worth it. Amanda eyed him over slowly, still as a statue, disbelief on her face.
"You want a picture."
"It might last longer," he joked, hoping she'd go along with it.
A minute passed, and she came to life with a sigh. "Very well."
He turned away from her and started opening a few programs on his computer. Making things look legitimate would help. "You probably want to get out of those wet clothes, there's a changeroom down the hall with some things you can try on. Don't worry about fit too much, I just want basic shots."
"I suppose you would like to see the wings, too."
Noah almost cackled. She was digging herself deeper into a hole - by the time she dried off, changed, and spent time rummaging around for a prop he knew he didn't have, he'd have the cops to the place and then he'd be able to go home with nothing more than a story to tell the next day. "Yeah, sure. Otherwise it's just a picture of a beautiful woman, y'know?"
Then he realized he was starting to take her claim seriously. He had to call someone, if only to get this woman the help she so clearly needed.
"I'm sorry, but I just don't think you're-"
"Noah Sullivan, twenty-five, photographer. I've been observing you for the past few days now-"
"That was you??"
"-and I am confident I have found the correct Noah Sullivan. Am I wrong?"
Noah's thoughts started racing. He hadn't been going crazy, someone had been following him after all. The confirmation wasn't as reassuring as he'd hoped it would be, but facts were facts. He had to get her distracted, somehow, preferably out of the room so that he could make his phone calls. How? She didn't seem like she would take being tricked very kindly, and despite her having some issues, she sounded lucid.
"I...you're really an angel?"
"Have I given any evidence otherwise?"
Okay, he thought, so she enjoys dry sarcasm. That, or she takes everything literally.
"It's just...I'd need some proof." An idea struck. "Photographic evidence. Can I take your picture?" He held his camera up and tried to smile. The look on her face was almost worth it. Amanda eyed him over slowly, still as a statue, disbelief on her face.
"You want a picture."
"It might last longer," he joked, hoping she'd go along with it.
A minute passed, and she came to life with a sigh. "Very well."
He turned away from her and started opening a few programs on his computer. Making things look legitimate would help. "You probably want to get out of those wet clothes, there's a changeroom down the hall with some things you can try on. Don't worry about fit too much, I just want basic shots."
"I suppose you would like to see the wings, too."
Noah almost cackled. She was digging herself deeper into a hole - by the time she dried off, changed, and spent time rummaging around for a prop he knew he didn't have, he'd have the cops to the place and then he'd be able to go home with nothing more than a story to tell the next day. "Yeah, sure. Otherwise it's just a picture of a beautiful woman, y'know?"
