Voicemail 2.0

[goddamngrenades]

You have reached the voice mail system of Officer Taylor Murray.

When you are finished recording, just hang up or press pound for more options.

To request a locksmith or report a crime, press one.

To hear these options in Spanish, press dos.

To send a verbal confirmation of a written command, press three.

To send a written confirmation of a verbal command, press four.

For delivery options, press five.

To page this person, press six.

To locate your nearest operator, press seven.

To leave a call back number, press eight.

To repeat this message, press nine.

Press zero for other options.

To mark this message as urgent, press eleven.

Thank you for calling, have a nice day.

BEEP


Comments

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"Wha..."

The kitchen is a disaster area, as if some particularly nasty tornado had torn the room apart, or at least part of it. His hands and his feet have cuts, and there aren't many safe places to stand. But he was just--wasn't he just--?

Is that York? He has to swallow down the rising panic, the fear bubbling up, or try to at least when he turns to York. York who's on the floor against the wall and defensive, and hurt, and talking to him.

"Taylor?" His voice is quiet, questioning, urgent, while he flexes his fingers, brings them to his chest. All of a sudden afraid to move.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"You're home, you're safe, it's just us okay? It's just us- and duke but he's in the other room it's okay it's-" It's okay. It's gonna be okay because he won't let it not be okay because they're fine. It's fine. Whatever has Malcolm all wound up they can talk through and it'll be. it'll be fine. He lowers an arm to get a good look at him, blood blinding one eye in a red smear, the rest of him made as small and harmless as possible.

He goes still.

Swallows.

"...Malcolm? Are you with me, boo?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

York looks scared and damnably helpless. He's looking at Malcolm like that. Everything is cold. "You're hurt." That's the most important thing, everything else be damned, he's going to come over and smudge some of that blood off on his shirt. "How did you get hurt? What happened here?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"Yeah." Only training keeps him still instead of flinching. It's mal. It's really Malcolm this time and- they're fine. "You kinda. Threw a mug at my head."

The remnants of which are shattered on the floor. He'd liked that mug too, one he got for the office.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

Blink. He pulls back a little, startled. "I did what?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"Threw a mug at my head. And trashed the kitchen." He blinks at Malcolm, slowly unwinding from his crouch to slump against the wall instead. "you okay?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"I di--" His head swivels, eyes darting around the kitchen, before the horrified look settles back on York. York who he hurt. Who he would never hurt. "I did this?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"You need a recording?" he blinks once, twice, and a holographic projection of a York eye view of the past thirty some odd seconds plays, from getting up from the sofa to the mug to the face to the rest of the destruction.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

He's so startled that he skitters backwards along the floor, mess be damned. That's him. That's him, but he doesn't remember that happening, and he doesn't know why it happened, but it's him. It's him but it's not.

"I'm..." He doesn't have the words. Especially not for how sorry he is.

He needs to pull himself together. God damn it, get up and make something of yourself. But his body doesn't move except to curl in a little on itself.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"Going to a hospital. Or a therapist. Or something. Because that's a fucking disassociative episode if I've ever seen one." Which he kind of hasn't until now but he's seen one now and that's all that matters okay? okay. It feels a little - well a little wrong and unfair that he has to push up from the wall and crouch back down in front of Malcolm and try to comfort him after taking a MUG TO THE FACE and-

well shit he can't move one leg all that well. Shit. Okay. Limping over the floor and crouching. "Breathe, Mal."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

No no no no no he did this to his own boyfriend. He moves perhaps too quickly when he curls an arm around one of Yorks and gets up. "Sit. Sit, you need to sit and rest and get looked at." Steers him toward a chair. "Just sit." There's a smear of blood where he touches York. Why did this happen? "Please."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"I'm fine. Scalps bleed like a bitch but I'm fine." The leg he's worried about but it might just be a cramp and he's. He's fine. Still there's no fight in him as he gets steered down, leaning against the counter. "Are you okay, Mal?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"Apparently I'm not," he snaps, not quite hysterical but edging very very close to it.

"I didn't mean--I don't remember doing any of that. I don't know why I would have done that. I would never--" But he had. "I am...so sorry. I am sorry; I would never hurt you; I would never try to hurt you, I don't know what happened." Breathe. Have to breathe. He resists the urge to pace and instead settles for idly scratching at his rough patches down one of his arms.

Re: Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"Okay-" He holds his hands up, going still and quiet until Malcolm talks again and is- well. malcolm. "Okay. We're okay. You're okay."

The itching, though. That's weird. "...lemme see your arm?"

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

He'd like to snap something about not patronizing him, but that might not go over so well. At the request, he holds his arm out. It's not the only place with dry, scaly spots, but there are a few there. "Reaction to something," he mildly mumbles, "or getting sick with something." That's not important.

Re: Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"...Mal these are scales." Little hard scales. Not scabs. Not just dry skin. And now that he looks him in the eye he can see how red they are and- jesus. He was in the suit the entire time. "Mal I think- I think you got what they had."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

Which he'll echo. "I was in the suit." If he got it, then doesn't that mean York has it? That Carolina-- "They tested Clair, and she was down with them, got hurt by them."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"...some of us are Immune." Which- they're all supposed to be Immune but- no. NOt worrying about what this implies right now. Not at all. "We gotta get you to a hospital."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"We're immune to the dysthrope virus. This isn't the same." Dysthropes sure didn't look like that. Not quite. "It's not the same." But hospital...doesn't sound bad. Not with his cuts all over, and he'll have to get some very irritating shards of glass and porcelain out of his feet, and York needs looks at in the head and his leg.

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"Boo?" He reaches up to rest a hand against Malcolm's jaw. Rubs his thumb in slow passes along his cheekbone. "We're okay. This wasn't- You didn't do this."

To the kitchen, to him. "We're good."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

It means York will feel the way his jaw sets. Maybe it wasn't him, but that does nothing to make him feel any better that it happened in the first place. It means something worse is hijacking him. "None of this is good."

He has to collect himself, and it's not happening very well. "Are you okay with your bike or should we take some more public transportation? No, no, shouldn't have me in public. If I'm infectious, if we both are--" Is there any good way around this? He scratches a little more. "We should go. I'll...I'll see if anything's happening. News. I'll check the news on the way."

Re: Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

His chin's doing the thing. The little crumply thing and he doesn't think twice about leaning in to kiss it. A quick press against skin before he tips up the last of the distance to press their lips together. Nothing long, nothing lasting- absolution if he can offer it.

Forgiveness.

"Not your fault." Even if his head is ringing and he's still bleeding. "We'll fix this."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

That feels like too much. Look at this mess. Just look at all of this. "Don't leave the animals with this before we clean it up." He tries to remember to breathe. "I'll put...something more suited for travel on. And we'll go. Sorry. Just--sorry."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[goddamngrenades]

"We can call a service. Put Duke in the yard till we get back home. Harry'll follow us." He always ends up where they don't want him, the damn cat. His hand drops down to Malcolm's to squeeze. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

Day 222 - afternoon - action

[tactical_alert]

"Okay." He squeezes back, just a little, enough to acknowledge the comfort, before slipping away, a little distracted. A little numb. Make himself somewhat presentable, go digging for information. A job, a duty, something to focus on.

Elena is on the network with a very important announcement to make, and things begin falling into frightening place. How much should be trusted? He can't be sure, but sitting around doing nothing isn't going to help, either. Aggression, ha, well, that certainly was an aggressive display, wasn't it? Lost time--even just a minute of it, a complete blank where he lost himself, the evidence foreign. He's a danger to himself and everyone around him. Even his boyfriend.