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

[goddamngrenades]

For what? Have you seen the roads, man? I'm not lending Phyliss to anyone.

[motherfucking_ghost]

--you named your bike Phyliss? Why not Sheila?

Wait, I mean, it's a hover-bike. Emphasis the hovering. It's not gonna slide on ice it isn't touching. I need it. I need some fast transport, and it looks bitching!

[goddamngrenades]

Who the hell is Sheila?

Church you can't shoot. I'm not going to let you drive. If you need a RIDE somewhere, I can help. But I'm not giving you my keys.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Well who the hell is Phyliss? First the tank, now the bike...

How are shooting and driving even remotely the same? It's not a ship, dude, I can ride a fucking motorcycle. I will fucking figure out how to hotwire a car if I have to to get to Tex.

...Oh, uh, Tex is here.

[goddamngrenades]

Freelancer Integrated Logistics and Security System. FILSS, Phyliss. Basic AI wired into the Mother of Invention and-


What?

Where are you I'm coming to get you. Now.

[motherfucking_ghost]

How did a Freelancer not-as-smart-as-the-rest AI end up in our tank--you know what, better to not ask that question.

Dude I'm like down the street from my stupid apartment which is by the fucking way beside Carolina's. I figured your bike would be a better method of travel around the snowy hellscape that is this city than literally walking the whole way. [He fucking hasn't STOPPED walking even just to talk you can be damn sure of that.]

Voice > Action

[goddamngrenades]

Find somewhere warm to wait and gimme fifteen, I'll be there soon.

[ He cuts the call there, suiting up and swinging onto his bike after a word to his housemates about where he's going and why, hauling ass to D4 before the idiot dies in an avalanche or something.

He makes it in Ten. He's not going to say how. ]

[motherfucking_ghost]

[Whatever the reason, it's probably not because Church found somewhere warm to wait. Because he didn't. Fuck that. Tex would kick his ass (harder) if she was busting to get where he said to meet and he was just being a lazy fuck.

In fact, he only stops when he sees the bike coming.]

That's awesome.

...I'm still not driving, am I.

[goddamngrenades]

Nope. Hop on.

[ He pats the seat behind him, shifting forward to give him room. ]

[motherfucking_ghost]

Are you serious right now? Do you know how much of a dweeb I'm going to look like hanging off you and your ride?

[goddamngrenades]

Church if Tex knows you she already knows you are nowhere near as badass as she is. Quit your bitching, hop on, and lets go get her.

[motherfucking_ghost]

I am so completely offended, and yet, I know you're also completely right.

...Okay fine. [He will get on behind York but he is under no obligation to like it.] I told her we'd meet at that fucking huge skyscraper that I can only assume the people in charge live and/or work at that can practically be seen from space, if, y'know, space could be seen from here.

[goddamngrenades]

Welcome to life with York. I'm here all week.

[ He snorts and shifts his grip on the handles, patting one of his hips. ]

You're gonna want to hang on, dude. Or you'll fall off and I am not doubling back to pick your sorry ass up.

[motherfucking_ghost]

...Uuuuugh, this is almost as bad as Tucker flipping my switch. [He is hesitant because he's going to look like such a pussy ugh this is dumb why did he think he could just borrow York's bitchin ride what the hell but he also does not want to fall off. So. Hanging on it is.]

[goddamngrenades]

Dude what you guys get into back home is your own business, but I am not flipping any of your switches.

[ Just to be an ass, just to be sure he actually DOES hang on? York revs the engine and guns it up the street, leaning forward as they whip around snow drifts and covered cars. ]