Agent York | Taylor Murray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goddamngrenades) wrote2013-12-02 03:34 am
goddamngrenades) wrote2013-12-02 03:34 am
Voicemail
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
no subject
It's still chocolate so fuck it, he takes a sip of his anyway. Mmmm. Tasty. ]
What do you wanna talk about? I'm here for you, Clair.
no subject
Palm scrubs over her face a moment, and she feels..older. Just, older. Older than York, which she is, older than her mother and her mother's clone combined -- but never as old as the man that sired her became. Palm cups her chin, rough fingers with their scarred knuckles caging her mouth, before a crooked smile forms and she opens her eyes. ]
Can I just. Stay here a little while?
[she doesn't want to talk. just listen, let his voice be an anchor for her if only for a time.]
no subject
[ It's a tentative thing- reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder. What he really wants to do is comb his fingers through her hair but that- he's not sure if he's earned that right back yet. Just a moment's hesitation before it dodges to the left to rest on her shoulder. Squeeze, thumb rolling a soft circle against her collarbone. ]
Sure, Clair. As long as you like.
[ He can't say no. Won't. It's not in him to deny her anything and that- that's probably not all that healthy but he's working on it, baby steps to leveling out, to scrapping together the torn up bits of him into someone that she can really depend on. Trust to have her back in more than just the ops. ]
Wanna hear about how I acidentally almost married into the mafia again?
no subject
But a hand on her shoulder is a welcome weight, and her free hand lifts him, curls around his to offer a squeeze in return. It's a thank you. It's appreciation. It's a sign of her own progress in healing, after a fashion. She's spent a long time keeping her hurts to herself, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Letting someone else help lift, if only for a little while, is huge progress for the likes of Carolina. ]
Only you could manage that accidentally. [she's smiling very slightly, just at the corners of her mouth, but there's amusement in her voice. She can always stand to hear this story again.]
no subject
[ He shifts enough that they're pressed together from shoulder to knee on the sofa, something simple and grounding as he works through his mug of cocoa. THe story's an old one, more fiction than fact at this point, but it never fails to get a laugh or derisive snort from her. That and that alone is why he drags it out, gesturing and embellishing on every single shade of the tale. ]
no subject
[It's a light verbal ribbing, something that continues in quiet tones, a proverbial punching of an artificially inflated 'ego' for the pure intent of describing a nonsense story. He never quite tells it the same way twice, and she appreciates that - even as she picks apart some of the nonsensical parts and points out where he's contracting himself.
It's nice. It's a nice distraction, if only for a little while, from the world outside the bunker. ]