IC CONTACT.

"YOU HAVE REACHED THE VOICE MAIL BOX OF XXX-XXX-XXXX. PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE.

voice. text. in person.
texts and messages will go to one of three phones
1 burner phone - 1 burner phone - 1 standard issue phone registered to DoloresH4ze
NONAH, NC. #003

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

magnitudes

What, no certificate? I'll go elsewhere, thanks. ( Grest Scott! She smiles briefly, and shakes her head, universal code for "I'm a moron.") No, I mean, I'll take my time getting in their good graces and shit, but I might need to know what the fuck sort of thing to look for.

( She throws back the rest of her bourbon and eyes the dwindling bottle.) I'm not gonna ask you to tag along, Jesus. I just gotta be steady enough to pull this shit off. And, wanna crack into the ouzo?

$nastygram: (C:\killerpoke)$

From:

nastygram

Obviously I would equip you with the basics. And do what you gotta do with therapy and doctors and meds, or whatever, waste your time, dope up, but the second you start using I-statements on me is the second I pop the proverbial cap in the ass of this little symbiotic relationship. You feel me?

[But also: she holds up her glass.]

And yes to the ouzo.

From:

magnitudes

I, ( She starts, hand over her heart as she stands and moves to the liquor cabinet, ) feel that getting fucked up on ouzo is a great choice.

( A smile, just on the understated side of obnoxious, as she tops up Darlene's glass from where she stands. If she weren't feeling quite so much like the garbage dregs pulled out of a dumpster by a racoon and dragged all over town, she might be civilised enough to get them fresh glasses for the bevvy change. )

To symbiotic mutualism, may this idea not blow the fuck up in our faces. ( And she's topping up her glass with ouzo, before unceremoniously tossing it back.

Okay, so she has a way to go to that stability thing. Give her time. )

$nastygram: (C:\kluge)$

From:

nastygram

Fuck off.

[--to the I statement, even though she did walk into that one. Darlene drinks to the toast anyways, a delicate little sip, before she hauls her ass to the edge of the couch cushion and climbs to her feet.]

Please tell me this flop house of yours has an ice tray. [She slaps her laptop shut as she maneuvers toward the kitchen, with a loopy stride that comes of sitting on her ass drinking bourbon for an hour or however long it's been.]

From:

magnitudes

( The most!! Helpful!! Smile!!! But she's moving, then, towards the kitchen as well. )

I got regular ice trays and I got novelty ice trays. You want cubes or pineapples or triceratops heads?

( The walk also isn't lost on her. ) Hungry? I make really good calls to pizza places.

$nastygram: (C:\FOO?)$

From:

nastygram

Of course you have novelty ice trays.

[Since Sarissa has followed her into the kitchen, she gets to see Darlene going through her cabinets, apparently either unclear as to where ice is kept, or just interested in going through people's shit.]

Jesus, ouzo and pizza? You're a menace. I think I've eaten pizza about a hundred times this week, I'm getting total cheese bloat. [She pauses in her cabinet quest to grab experimentally at her own waist, slouching so her stomach is droopy.] Ugh. Let's do Indian, I would straight up murder for some samosas right now.

From:

magnitudes

( The cabinets are less exciting than they might have been, with a fair bit of stuff already packed up in boxes. Sarissa lets her continue her amazing ice adventure, while stepping to the freezer and grabbing the regular cubes and a tray of triceratops out )

Really? ( :'| ) I mean, sure, Indian is fine.

( Indian is making her die inside. Sarissa lives the white girl meat-and-three-veg life, when she isn't living the Intensely Greek life. Still, she has an Indian take out menu and eyes it suspiciously. Butter chicken. She'll... go with butter chicken. )

So, you wanna be square or you want dinosaurs?

Edited (WHY NOT AGAIN CODE NO) Date: 2017-02-01 09:01 pm (UTC)

$nastygram: (C:\getalife!)$

From:

nastygram

I would never deprive you of the chance to throw some presh dinosaurs in your booze. Square, obviously.

[She baps the cabinet shut with an open hand and glances back at Sarissa, with a crooked grin. Is that reluctance she detects in her tone? Too damn bad.]

Show me the menu. I have a million coupons on this thing.

[This thing; her phone. She slaps one hand on the counter for support as she tries to extract it from her pocket.]

Shit is going to be free as fuuuuck.

From:

magnitudes

Aw, thanks.

(

Except then she's talking about the menu, and Darlene would be receiving the opposite of praise hands, for the record. Sarissa hands it over, and just sort of hesitates before actually handing it over. ) I'll just have butter chicken.

( And now; ice for their drinks, ice for their drsinks, tra la la, ice for their drinks. )

$nastygram: (C:\gilley)$

From:

nastygram

Basic bitch.

[It sounds halfway like an endearment and halfway not. Darlene, equipped with menu and restaurant name, shifts around so she's got the small of her back pressed to the counter. She starts scrolling through her phone, skimming through the millions of coupons.]

Butter chicken, aloo gobi... naan, some shit. God, I hate looking at menus when I'm hungry, I way over order. They need to, like, invent a self-control app or something.

[She flicks a glance up at Sarissa.]

Delivery is not going to wig you out, right?

From:

magnitudes

( And she will drink to that: yes, she is indeed a basic bitch, but she treats it like a toast. Sort of. )

I'm not gonna be living here much longer.

( With a faint smile, but the joke falls a bit awkwardly. ) I'm fine with delivery.

( There's company, they aren't ordering a serve of watches and electric shocks to be delivered, it's great. Sarissa hitches herself up to sit on the counter. )

What would a self control app even do? Just start slinging insults the more you ordered? Zap you?

$nastygram: (C:\fnord)$

From:

nastygram

Course correct. [Duh.] Put in how many people are eating, order twenty samosas and it bumps down to ten just before the order goes through. You could cheat it by pretending you had a house party I guess, but at that point you're pretty much beyond help anyways.

[Darlene thumbs in the phone number and hits dial. As she waits through the rings, she raises her eyebrows at Sarissa.]

Zap?

[Come on, girl. Then the restaurant picks up, and Darlene turns away to start ordering.]

Yeah, hi. Order for delivery. Start with your blandest butter chicken...

[blah blah food.]

From:

magnitudes

Yeah. Like negative reinforcement.

( With an idle shrug, and she tips back some of her ouzo. ) Someone'd probably be into it, but.

$nastygram: (C:\borked)$

From:

nastygram

[Darlene rolls her eyes and holds her phone a little ways away from her mouth so she can make a comment, because of course she's got a comment.]

This is to discourage ridic gorging habits and over-ordering, okay, not for you to get your electrostim rocks off. Yeah, uh-huh-- [Back on the phone; she holds up a hand to shut Sarissa off, if she was going to say anything.] Yeah. Thanks.

[Order complete, she ends the call and shoves her phone back into her pocket.]

Donezo. It'll be like an hour. When are you moving?

From:

magnitudes

Not a bit fan of things getting sparky, personally.

( Light and easy, even if there's a line of seriousness in it, an undercurrent. Nothing like being electrocuted to unconsciousness, and all that. It's more a murmur to herself, than much of an audible response given the hand, but she drains the rest of the glass, before going to top it up. )

Not within the hour, if that's what you're worried about.

$nastygram: (C:\lostinthenoise)$

From:

nastygram

No, this is me making conversation.

[She follows Sarissa back to the bottle, with a little sip of her drink before she takes her seat back, legs curled under her with a looser grace than before.]

Whose dime are you moving on?

From:

magnitudes

Ah, gotcha. Ten out of ten. And mine. Well, mine and Sarah's, we're buying a place outta Nonah. I still got some money from when I was working security for Kavinsky, but I need to make a decision about registering if I'm gonna go job hunting.

( More ouzo, yes. Her poor liver, rip. )

What do you do, anyway?

$nastygram: (C:\forkbomb)$

From:

nastygram

Pretty much what I want.

[--says Darlene, with enough smug confidence to suggest that she means it and she lives it. She takes another quick sip, slurps up an ice cube while she's at it.]

I'm a bad wage slave, because capitalism sucks donkey dick, and I am very anti nanny state, so like hell I was going to do the job Big Brother pinned on me. It was a frickin' joke anyways.

PS, the only Kavinsky I've seen on the network is a skeevy little dickhole. Please tell me you aren't besties.

From:

magnitudes

Fight the system, etc. ( Quiet and good humoured, for the dryness in it.)

And I used to be his bodyguard. ( A huff of laughter, self mocking.) Thought I could help a troubled youth who needed an adult to care. And then he made creepy corpse duplicates of my body and left them about town, so no. Not besties. Made the fucker a sweet koala hat, though.

( She glances at Darlene and shrugs. Whatcha gonna do? ) I'm a dumbarse idealist, despite my compelling and convincing shell of cynacism.

$nastygram: (C:\rude)$

From:

nastygram

[Darlene's eyebrows raise, slowly, at each new facet of this relationship. Then she sucks in a breath, lets it out through her teeth, harsh and quick and skeptical. Wow.]

Yeah, you sure know how to pick 'em.

[She takes a drink.]

Do you ever consider solitary confinement as like, a protection to yourself, because this drama after drama of yours is bumming me out. And I'm not even living it.

From:

magnitudes

Oh, it's all good, but. You make up for all the fuckheads.

( A bright grin, before she shakes her head at herself, and tops up her glass. Her lips are starting to feel a little fuzzy from liquor, and she leans back and rests her head against the cushions.)

Not a bad idea. I'll think about it.

$nastygram: (C:\runic)$

From:

nastygram

Bi-itch, please.

[Darlene flops back against the cushions too, so she can roll onto her cheek and give Sarissa a look.]

Is that supposed to be cute and flirty?

From:

magnitudes

How dare you. I'm always cute and flirty.

( The smile is self deprecating, coupled with a quiet laugh. )

And no fucking comment, because there's no way to answer that question that couldn't end awkwardly with me trying to add explanations and then just deteriorating into a burning mess.

$nastygram: (C:\itanic)$

From:

nastygram

Awww.

[Darlene, grinning, takes another sip of her drink. Then she slumps down, chin on her chest, legs loose. The glass is basically empty and so can safely loll at her side.]

'Always' is being pretty freaking generous to yourself.

From:

magnitudes

( Sarissa holds up the bottle, eyebrows raised in a silent question - top up?

It occurs to her they've not really been keeping track of how much liquor they've been hitting, so probably they should ease up. On the other hand, she's miserable and this is making her feel better, so hmm. )

Yeah, but someone has to talk about how great I am. May as well be me.