Voicemail

[goddamngrenades]

You have reached the voice mail system of FOXTROT 12.

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

To request a locksmith, 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

[bothbarrels]

"Well. I'll just give her a call." He shifts to pull his glasses out of his pocket and puts them on. His hand comes back to rest on York's shoulder and he rubs it gently while the call is ongoing. Once he's done he gives it a squeeze. "We're meeting for a late dinner. I'll probably leave in an hour."

[goddamngrenades]

York dozes during the conversation, tension melting out gradually. He's all but a puddle by the time North gets his hand back on his shoulder. Something simple and grounding and utterly normal. Something he's needed. "Tell her i got her back when you see her?" He mumbles, burrowing deeper into the cushions and his leg.

[bothbarrels]

"I will." It's kind of catching, the way York's relaxing there. North closes his eyes and slouches his shoulders, preparing to join in the impromptu nap time.

[goddamngrenades]

"An, drew?" He manages one last muffled, slurred little rumble of sound. "Thanks. For bring'n me back to earth."

[bothbarrels]

He draws out a relaxed sigh. "'S what I'm here for."

[goddamngrenades]

"Mhm. love you, bro." He curls in a little tighter, nuzzles the leg under his cheek, and drifts off.