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

Day 170 | Morning | Action

[goddamngrenades]

"Look me in the eye and say you wouldn't." York crosses his arms, brows lifted, waiting for some grand line of bullshit that neither of them would buy.

Day 170 | Morning | Action

[logicunlocked]

Easier said than done. York's comfortable lying, even if he's bad at it. But sitting up and keeping his eyes open right now? That's another matter. "Shut it," he mumbles irritably. He gestures toward himself. "Do it now." He doesn't want to be asleep when it happens. He wants to feel the needle go in, the depression of the plunger. He wants agency in this whole thing.

Day 170 | Morning | Action

[goddamngrenades]

"Any last words for D, North, or Clair?" Because they sure as hell don't have last words for each other. There isn't much more to say. Still, it bears asking as he comes around to sit behind himself, prop him up so he's at least not staring at the great blankness of the Dome's sky when he goes. No one should go looking at nothing. He's done it before, not fun. One arm around his own waist, one on the syringe, he tugs York's sleeve up.

Day 170 | Morning | Action

[logicunlocked]

"Nothing for you to hear," he retorts weakly. "We already sorted our shit, anyway. Said our goodbyes." If only he could touch Clair one more time, he thinks, but he's not going to say it. This York doesn't need to know what they shared; it's none of his business. He slumps against York's side, and as pissed as he'd just been at him moments before, he can't help laying his head over on his shoulder. He knows he smells like some weird cleaner but the other York is just going to have to deal.

Day 170 | Morning | Action

[goddamngrenades]

"Nothing I wouldn't say, probably." Which is a pretty short list, really. He hadn't had time for last words. Just 'don't let them take D.' That's the only sentiment he had time to really parse before darkness took hold and-

Nothing.

And here he is. Spreading that nothing along.

Sure the cleaning fluid smells weird and his skin is tacky where they've touched but he slides the needle in without complaint Runs a hand through York's hair like their mother did when they were upset. Presses the plunger and tries not to think about morphine overdose. "Just like falling asleep, man."

Day 170 | Morning | Action

[logicunlocked]

He tries to laugh but it comes out as an ineffective warbling chortle. "Nothing you'd repeat, if I told you," he mumbles, and follows that up with a strained little 'mm' sound, slumping even more. "I'm gonna miss her," he says under his breath, the world elongated, and trails off, eyes closing.

It's about three breaths later when his lungs quit.

Re: Day 170 | Morning | Action

[goddamngrenades]

That's not ominious at all. He could ask. Could poke- not at him, he's gone, but Clair but-

She has her own life. She's got a right to it. He's fucked it up enough and if she'd found something good with this other him he's not gonna ask about it. He doesn't have a right to much of anything when it came down to it. Not anymore.

Just like sleeping except for how the breath goes still, then the heart, then- well instead of a death rattle it's this strange sort of upkick in heat and smell as the melting starts. Along with the foaming. Soon what had been him is a mass of sweet smelling suds, soaking the ground and York entirely. Cleaning fluid.

Ugh.