[ Another two minutes. A buffer. When he speaks again there's a thread of sadness to it, resignation. But it's undercut and overrun by the firm precision of what he has to say. ]
If you find me, follow through. Quickly. Do not hesitate.
[ this, of all things, makes her hesitate. she thinks of kovacs, telling her not to trust anyone, even him. she thinks of how stupid she'd felt, having trusted anyone in the first place.
most of all, she hopes that she doesn't find him. hopes that he doesn't come back. ]
cw: in case it wasn't abundantly clear the above CW is in effect Throughout
[ Two minutes, nothing. Ten, nothing. At fifteen though, the flash of a remembered image shared briefly across their connection.
It's a small leaf of paper, maybe just the torn corner piece from a page of a book (if she searches hard enough later, she'll find a corner missing from one of a few borrowed volumes she's left strewn across his bed in the aftermath of her ransack of his half of the room - the book has nothing significant to say, aside perhaps from being a romance). A piece of paper scarred fingers are tucking into a skirt pocket.
If she goes looking, she'll find it where he left it. A small corner of paper, on which an imagined constellation is sketched unsteadily in a style he's tried hard to emulate. It contains no meaning. It contains all the meaning any little piece of paper tucked away like a secret could ever hope to express. ]
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no subject
I'm sorry. I can't talk long. Just snatches. I don't know if it can hear.
no subject
You're just embarrassing yourself, at this point. And wasting both of our time.
no subject
If you find me, follow through. Quickly. Do not hesitate.
[ And back to empty nothing. ]
no subject
most of all, she hopes that she doesn't find him. hopes that he doesn't come back. ]
cw: in case it wasn't abundantly clear the above CW is in effect Throughout
It's a small leaf of paper, maybe just the torn corner piece from a page of a book (if she searches hard enough later, she'll find a corner missing from one of a few borrowed volumes she's left strewn across his bed in the aftermath of her ransack of his half of the room - the book has nothing significant to say, aside perhaps from being a romance). A piece of paper scarred fingers are tucking into a skirt pocket.
If she goes looking, she'll find it where he left it. A small corner of paper, on which an imagined constellation is sketched unsteadily in a style he's tried hard to emulate. It contains no meaning. It contains all the meaning any little piece of paper tucked away like a secret could ever hope to express. ]