Because Thursday with Blank Mastermind things just had to be stretched out for another week.
So, totally unrelated to our previous story conflict, Dallas is actually a really good actor when he’s not being shy about it. And I wanted to expand on that.
Enjoy the story that resulted. Along with another Dallas collage. -bows-
From Wolfgang’s point-of-view of course.
Because I miss writing in that now that the story is over.
So deal with it.
At first, I thought the Fernsbys had a guest in the house, the voice coming from the living room sounded so different. I couldn’t quite place it in my mind, but it sounded somehow familiar at the same time.
“ . . .And joining the agency today, I have here Agent Beckett Fernsby. Wave to everyone, Beckett. What a great kid, eh? He’ll be an incredible addition to the force, I’m positive.”
Charles could put on a showman’s voice when he wanted to, but this was a few notches above that. Like, over-caffeinated car salesman level.
I rubbed a hand over my face as I walked down the stairs and the voice finally clicked in my mind. Director Ecks of the SPI agency. I’d seen him in enough news videos to know . . . but . . . I frowned. What’s he doing in the living room early Sunday morning, making Beckett an agent?
And to add to the confusing mental image, I heard Charles and Angela laughing about it.
It was always harder to add things up before I’d had coffee.
I craned my neck around to peer into the living room as I came to the bottom of the stairs. Standing there on the fireplace hearth was the answer to my first questions . . . and the start of many others.
He’d done his best to pat his hair down into a slick side-part and was giving a charming grin with all his teeth. He waved over to where Charles and Angela were sitting, practically oozing charisma.
I stared and rubbed at my still bleary eyes. This . . . couldn’t be Dallas. It was like someone else was inside his body. He’d been mind controlled by Ecks . . . made to be a clone . . .
Another peal of laughter came from Angela. “Dallas, you’re fantastic. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this!”
Dallas reddened and the alternate mannerisms dropped immediately. The grin faded back into his own shy, half-smile and the widespread arms dropped back down to his jeans pockets.
He shrugged self-consciously. “I don’t know . . . it’s not that good.”
It slowly dawned on me. Dallas was doing impressions. Almost professional level ones, at that.
Charles chuckled, “He’s kind of self-conscious about them. You’re getting a special showing here, Angela. Sworn to secrecy and all that.”
It suddenly seemed like a good idea to move to a less obvious place to watch. I stepped quietly off the stairs and stationed myself by the corner.
“Do another one, Dallas.”
Dallas twisted his hands and looked doubtful. “I don’t even know who . . .”
“Oh! I know,” Angela’s voice came again delightedly, half laughing. “Do one of Wolfgang.”
Trust me, that worked better than coffee for waking me up. I raised an eyebrow, straightening up. I wasn’t that distinct, was I? I mean . . . what would he do?
I kept quietly to my spot, watching with interest.
Dallas laughed at the suggestion, but seemed to consider it. He shrugged. “I’ll try.”
Sunday morning just got a bit more interesting.
He stood there for a few seconds, squinting into the middle distance. After a second of silence, Dallas rubbed his hands together and ran them up through the front of his hair, nearly standing it on end.
I touched my own hair unconsciously, trying to pat down the cowlick.
Dallas closed his eyes and took a deep breath, almost like he was getting ready to run a marathon. Then his eyes came open and he threw up his hands.
“Holy smoke, guys. You just . . . you wouldn’t believe today. I must have activated some ancient curse or something.” He tugged at his already wild hair, stepping down off the hearth. “Really, it was like everything I touched just . . .” he made a few broad hand motions and looked like he was searching for the word.
Dallas’s voice had entirely changed. Slightly more oral-sounding than his own . . . a lot louder and kind of cocky. And he was talking a little out of one side of his mouth.
He moved constantly. When he wasn’t gesturing, he was pulling at his hair, sticking his hands in his pockets and occasionally bouncing on his heels.
I stared. Was that really how I talked?
Angela was laughing too hard, but Charles managed to play along.
“So what happened today, Wolfgang?” he asked.
Dallas tugged at his hair again. “It was just . . . ridiculous. One thing after another. So I got up this morning and Lucius . . . the bleeping bird . . . he tipped his perch over and smashed through the window and flew out. Then I had to go out chasing him all over creation to try and get him back in his bleeping cage . . .”
He let out his breath and shook his head in disbelief, patting down his sides like he was feeling for his leather jacket pockets. “That made me late for work of course, so I broke the speed limit the whole way. And forgot to get breakfast. And then the jobs for the day . . . I mean, what the bleep . . .”
His face shifted into an almost toddler-esque scowl as he launched into a tale of leaky showerheads and disagreeable customers. Dallas’s hands were never still as he talked, making elaborate maps in the air. He said “bleep” so often he sounded part alarm clock.
I didn’t swear that much . . . did I? I at least watched it around the kids . . .
Dallas strode back and forth in front of the hearth. He pulled at his hair for a few seconds, then continued his dramatic reenactment of my hypothetical day at work.
“ . . .So then the guy says I did such an awful job that he’s not paying me at all.” He threw his arms wide. “I . . . well, yeah I flooded the bathroom, but I cleaned it up for bleep’s sake!”
Charles and Angela were doing a very bad job at muffling their laughter. I wondered how they weren’t waking up the kids at this point.
Dallas ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it down by a microscopic amount. “I wanted to cuss the son of a bleep out right there, but . . . I . . . y’know, if it was my business, I would’ve done it, but it’s not so . . . I just told him to have a nice day and left. But . . .” Dallas gave a sideways smirk. “I do hope he enjoys the complimentary mint I left in the showerhead.” He made a finger-gun and pretended to blow off the end.
Oh come on . . . I really didn’t do that. At least not very often. I’d done it like once. Maybe.
The laughter wasn’t even trying to be muffled at this point.
I couldn’t just let it lie any longer and stepped out around the corner. “Come on, Dall. I don’t actually sound like that when I talk, right . . .?”
Dallas’s face went beet red when he saw me and he dropped his hands, frantically smoothing his hair back down. “No . . . I mean . . . oh gosh, Wolf . . . how much of that did you . . .?”
“All of it.” I was torn between scowling and smiling.
Dallas didn’t meet my eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. “Well . . . ah . . .”
“You do, actually,” Angela answered bluntly.
I wasn’t sure what to say, but I felt that my ears were red.
Dallas sighed and looked down at his shoes. “And this is why I don’t usually do impressions.”
Hope you guys enjoyed that little bit for today. :3
Have a great rest of your Thursday, everyone!