Special Delivery

It's about ten in the morning, the clear skies of Dallas beaming the sun's glorious light down onto the city streets.


A late night previous has meant that someone has decided to sleep in, enjoying the morning languidly in bed. Hope is awake though, smiling over at a silly flying-pig hat, and a large bowl of goldfish, when the buzzer rings. Throwing on a track suit, she runs to the intercom, thinking it to be her sister. "Hello? Who is is? If it's you, Faith, I'll be down shortly." Not that she's expecting her sister to just appear, but the only other visitor she tends to have won't bother even calling for several more days yet.

The voice that trickles back through the crackling intercom is female, and bearing a sweet, North Carolina accent. "Hi," it says. "I have a delivery for a, ah, Miss H Tyler? Y'all have to come down ta get it."

"A delivery? But I haven't ordered anything." Hope's brow furrows, and she releases the intercom for a moment. "Are you sure you have the right Tyler?" Surely there are other H Tyler's in the vicinity. It's a common surname! "Look, I'll be right down to clear this up."

A headband is slipped on to hold her blonde hair back from her face, and she's off to head down to sort everything up.

"Miss Hope Tyler? I got the right address, I know. I'll be waitin' right here," says the voice, brightly. Downstairs, outside the door, waits a neatly attractive blonde, dressed in an obviously expensive, tailored trouser suit. In her hand is a small folder, and a set of keys. Not far from the entrance is parked a gleaming pink Sidekick, glaring its brightness against the general drabness of the other cars around.

There is a pink Suzuki Sidekick at the curb, and Hope just stares at it curiously. "There must be some mistake. I know the insurance company was meant to send over a loaner vehicle until mine is repaired, but…" It's too new looking, too shiny looking, and far too pink to be from the insurance company. "Did I enter a contest I forgot about?"

"Indeed there is no mistake," says the blonde woman, delivering a dazzling smile. "Hi, my name's Erica, and I'm here representin' an independant escrow service." A hand is thrust forwards for shaking. "Are you Miss Hope Tyler? I have here the documentation and keys for a gift that was entrusted to us to deliver to you."

The newly blonde Tyler twin just sort of stares at the woman. "Well, yes. I'm Hope Tyler, but surely there's some sort of mistake, Miss Erica." Polite, even when in shock. After all, this woman isn't Ivan. "It just seems that this is a rather expensive gift, and not one I feel at all comfortable in taking."

"Weeell," Erica says, drawing the word out through her smile, "she's all yours, and it'd be a pity to see her sit there all useless and unloved, wouldn't it?" Withdrawing the hand offered for shaking, she instead turns towards the vehicle. "I'm not permitted by contract to take no for an answer, I'm afraid. C'mon, shall we have a look over her? She drives like a dream."

It's not that Hope is purposefully snubbing the woman. While she's prone to being pleasant, she's also extremely wary of new people these days. What with an ex-friend back from the dead, and paranoia over vampires coming after her due to being the new poster girl for the Fellowship, she's just generally ill at ease with new people. She /does/ look at the Sidekick again though, before turning to Erica. "I couldn't possibly. It's far too expensive of a gift, especially when I've no clue who it's from, or why it was gifted."

The blonde turns once more, another smile coming out, beaming and bright. "Honestly, sweetie, I got no clue as to who or why. All I gotta do is put these here keys and documents in your hands and do my best to make sure you love your new car. Here, it comes with a note." A quick flick through the folder reveals an envelope addressed to 'Miss H Tyler'. Within is a short note;


This is all yours, no strings. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed buying it for you.

A little late perhaps, but always, I hope,

Your secret Valentine

The note is read, a hand going up to her still somewhat bruised temple to ensure it's not some weird concussion dream. "I still can't accept this, Miss Erica. It's far too extravagant. Can't you return it to the sender and tell whomever it is that while the thought was appreciated, it's just too much?" The note is read again, and while her mind wants to believe that it's from a specific someone, it's not like he's entirely made of cash or would go through escrow.

"Miss Tyler," says Erica, with a softer smile, though her voice turns a little more businesslike. "There's two things'll happen if I take this beautiful little vehicle back to my bosses. First, I'll be outta a job. Second, it'll get crushed. There's no return to sender, no nothin'. Independant escrow means we don't breach contract, and contract says this car's yours. Even if you don't know who or why, I'd hate to see such a pretty little car become a cube of scrap. Just come have a look-see, and we'll get you scootin' along in no time."

"Nothing? You can't keep it for yourself? What if I re-gift it to you?" The woman seems to like the vehicle after all. Hope just eyes it warily, the note read a few more times. "I will agree to take a look at the vehicle, but…" It's just not right to /keep/ it.

"Much as I'd love one o' these," says Erica, "it'd look mighty fine if I were to turn up and say the client gave it to me, wouldn't it? 'Sides, I already got a car I love." A huge, black SUV, with tinted windows and killer alloys is what she usually drives, after all. "C'mon. You're bein' a bit silly thinkin' about giving this over to a stranger." Again the blonde turns, this time starting to walk over to the vehicle itself.

"It would be more silly to think about keeping it," Hope points out, prudently. Yet someone /did/ go to all the trouble to replace her car, with another pink vehicle. A really pretty pink vehicle. "I could write you a note, get it notarized or something?" She does walk to the vehicle, but only because she agreed to take a look at it.

"Again, ma'am," Erica says, with a light shrug, "whoever decided to give you this thing was certain to make sure you ain't got no way of refusing it. Maybe 'cause they knew you're a nice girl, who wouldn't dream of acceptin' a gift like this; you must be somethin' to someone for them to go to the trouble." Lifting the keys in one hand, Erica thumbs the locking button, and the doors make a soft 'click'. "If you really wanted, you could take it, give it to charity or somethin'. I'm thinkin' once you've sat yourself in her, though, you'll be in love."

"Maybe," Hope says, though those who know her know she's not really all /that/ nice. "Are you /positive/ that you have the correct person?" There's a brief thought that it could be from Tripp, but that's pushed far to the side as Tripp is obsessed with her sister, not her. "That's a good idea. Maybe I'll do that." Give it to charity, or to a twin who should get her own set of wheels eventually. "Love is a very strong word, Miss Erica. It shouldn't be used lightly at all."

"Here," says Erica, offering the folder forwards, "is the documentation. Your name, address, phone number in case you weren't in, the lot is in here. Trust me, you're the lucky girl." Another light shrug touches her shoulders. "True, true, you got me there. What d'you think?"

The folder is taken, and that some unknown has /this/ much information on her unnerves her just a tad. There is a brief frown, but she masks it quickly with a smile. "It's a lovely vehicle." The passenger door is opened, because she doesn't want to chance sitting in the driver's seat just yet. "What year is it? The model, I mean." In case she needs to get a mechanical or any work done on it before giving it away… if she decides to do that.

"All in there," says Erica. "But she's a 2000 1.6 litre, two doors as you see, so not completely brand new. Documents look like a full history of services done, so she's in good condition. Honestly, sweetie, I'm just sayin' what I read in that folder." It would seem the inside is also trimmed in pink.

The fact that it's not /completely/ new, but still newer than the Ford Aspire that she totaled the front end of makes her relax a little. Very little, but enough so that she's not so standoffish. When she sees that the inside is trimmed in pink, she does her best not to squeal. Hope instead clears her throat several times, and then smiles. "I suppose that I should read what's in the folder as well, and let you get on with your day then?" After all, the disbelief and the slight argument over keeping the vehicle has likely stopped this woman from doing her job.

"I think y'all be needin' these," says Erica, lifting the keys to dangle tantilisingly for a moment, before she tosses them onto the driver's seat. She delivers another beaming smile. Her voice lilts with vicarious joy. "You've made my day already, a nice modest girl gettin' somethin' I just know she'll enjoy. You have a most fantastic day, Miss Hope."

Right, the keys. Hope takes them up in her hands as soon as they land. Then she extracts herself from the passenger side of the vehicle, promptly locking it. She'll go on the assumption that the paper work for the insurance is already in the folder, and she'll merely have to call them. "That's very sweet of you, Miss Erica, but I still don't deserve this. Thank you though. For the delivery."

"Hey, not my job to decide who deserves what," Erica says, lifting hands in playful mock innocence. "Maybe some day I'll see you drivin' around, a big ol' smile on your face. As said, you must be somethin' to someone to get this. See you, Miss Tyler." She still smiling as she turns to leave.

Walking away at some speed, red heels clicking against the floor, Erica waits until she is beyond earshot before lifting a cellphone to her ear. She presses a speed-dial, which goes straight to voicemail. "Next time you want something delivered to a moron, Will, send someone else? I practically had to shoot the damn girl to get her to take the car. Idiot fanatic false modesty. It's done." Beep.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License