nastygram | 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:

rathercommon

[ Hah. Like hell, she's missing out on seeing this. No need to guess exactly what Darlene is doing: using her wiles to get access to this guy's phone. Kitty had done that in the past herself. Wiles were, as it turned out, bloody useful when it came to this sort of thing.

The question is, of course, who is this guy? Jake. What does he do? Where does he work? A security guard around the Porter, maybe, or a low-level government official, or an executive...

Sparrows cannot, unfortunately, hover. At least not well. And Kitty needs to be positioned behind Darlene in order to read over her shoulder. There's risk involved - she'd turned into a hummingbird in the woman's presence before, after all, and so Darlene might make that connection - But like hell she's missing out on this.

So a quick flicker of magic, a change of form, and then Kitty positions herself above Darlene's head and behind, far enough away that the woman (hopefully) won't hear the whirring of her wings. ]

$nastygram: (C:\BFI)$

From:

nastygram

[She only has so much time. Then again, she doesn't need very much time. With Jake's phone unlocked, Darlene grabs hers and hits SEND on a pending text message. Then she puts her phone down again and picks up his, opens her own text, and follows the link she texted him.

Whatever passes for wifi around here is a little slow, and her eyes flick up to keep an eye on Jake, navigating the perilous waters of coffee ordering inside the cafe.

The link connects; she closes the browser and hits DELETE on her text, eradicating that obvious footprint. Then she goes to his phone book and deletes her profile, and it's just then that she hears this quiet hum, not unlike a bee. A little lower than a bee maybe. It's weird. She doesn't mark it at first, beyond a tightening of her eyebrows.

She puts in a new entry. CASSIE, a string of phone numbers. Adds a smiley face at the end of her fake name.

The hum, again. She looks around at last.

A goddamn hummingbird, right in her line of sight. Is it weird and crazy and paranoid to think she recognizes a bird? But come on. Ecology was never her strong suit, but how many hummingbirds hang around downtown areas in North Carolina? Fuck if she knows, but having come off from a recent bar fight with a hummingbird--]

What, [she says, clearly,] the fuck.

From:

rathercommon

[ Shit.

Well, okay. Two options. Option one: flit innocently away, go and sip delicately from a little flower on that nearby flowerbush, and hope Darlene forgets about this. That option would mean she wouldn't seem like a creepy stalker type, it would mean that she could stay relatively incognito...but that option would also mean that she probably wouldn't have any opportunity to find out what this is about. She'd have to just fly away and drop it - because if she ever brought this up, Darlene would know right away exactly who that hummingbird had been. Incognito means ignorant.

Option two, then. ]

So - [ Kitty asks, voice cheerful and casual - ] Who is he?

$nastygram: (C:\bogosity)$

From:

nastygram

[Of goddamn course it's Little Miss Revolutionary Retiree. Somehow. Inexplicably.]

Not that I owe you shit, but he's my date. And you're a voyeur, freak. How about you go fly into a big picture window somewhere.

[Huh? Great idea, right? Darlene turns away very pointedly and hits SAVE on her new contact info.]

From:

rathercommon

Is he?

[ Kitty buzzes down to land on the table, cocking her head up at Darlene. And she speaks in a voice that's really bright and optimistic and warm. ]

So you are settling down and just living a happy life here? Oh, that's so good. I'm so happy to hear that. I was really worried before.

$nastygram: (C:\jrst)$

From:

nastygram

[Oh my god.

There's a thin whippy menu tucked between the umbrella and the salt and pepper holder, the kind that's barely anything more than laminated cardstock. Darlene snatches it up and slaps it down. Probably not fast enough to squash or hurt her avian friend, but she'll make her point.]

Get lost.

From:

rathercommon

[ Oooh.

Fuck it. Kitty sees that menu coming, and her response is quick: she turns into a flea, tiny as anything, and springs forward to cling to a fold of her clothing. And her date is coming back now. If it's a real date, Kitty thinks, Darla will tell him the truth - there's some weird imPort here, things are so strange, help me find her, et cetera - and if it's a great big lie, she'll pretend everything's okay. In which case, Kitty will get to continue to listen in. So screw you. ]

$nastygram: (C:\derf)$

From:

nastygram

[One thing Darlene is not good at is pretending not to be mad. When she lifts the menu and Kitty has fucked off somewhere--well, that's good, but what's not good is she didn't see it happen. A hummingbird is pretty small, but not small enough that she'd just flat-out miss it zipping away from her.

Which means, what.

Doesn't matter. Darlene is irritated.] Fucking, [she mutters, under her breath, and then Jake is back with two coffees in paper cups. He takes in the sight of Darlene and a puzzled expression comes to his face.

Everything okay?]

Everything's awesome. [Darlene holds out her hand for the coffee. She pastes on a smile. It's a little too tight to be believable.] Thanks.

[Jake hesitates. Then he hands over the cup and sits down again. Are you sure? You don't look like, but, impatiently, Darlene interrupts him:]

Are we seriously going to sit here and make small talk? [The directness wrongfoots Jake. Unruffled, Darlene wrenches the lid off of her cup and blows across the top of it.] I can do a little if you like have to pretend. But please don't start telling me about your childhood or something or I will straight up hurl in this coffee.

From:

rathercommon

[ This...isn't really a date, is it? Kitty suddenly starts to worry. What if it really is? What if she was wrong? And she's just pissed off Darlene so that she blows it? No, it can't be. Giving a false name, acting all fake - all that has to mean that this is a sting. Right?

...Right?

Hell. Though, to be fair, if it is a real date, it seems like that poor Jake would eventually get moody pissed-off Darlene instead of the nicer version he had gotten earlier. Still, as a little rebuke for her nastiness, Kitty - buried somewhere near Darlene's collarbone - gives a little nip to her skin. ]

$nastygram: (C:\notwork)$

From:

nastygram

What the ef--

[Darlene's intake of breath is a sudden sharp hiss, right on the heels of that near-swear. Not that she's censoring herself around her date (fuck that), just, that's what comes out first. She slaps her hand against her collarbone with force and stares down at her own boobs and decolletage.

Jake's surprise changes slightly. What's wrong?, but Darlene pretty much cuts him off with a bland but forceful,]

Nothing. [--Even if she's still staring down at herself. Because fuck you, Kitty Jones, because this has to be her fault, somehow.] Do you have a psycho ex? Who's like, probably super underage? And who's kind of a megabitch?

[Very Pointed Comments. None of which help Jake at all, who honestly just came out to have a good time. Um. No?]

From:

rathercommon

[ Another small bite, this time sort of on the shoulder region. Underage. Megabitch. How completely fucking rude. Honestly. That steams her enough that she doesn't care if she is maybe ruining a legitimate date. ]

$nastygram: (C:\bogosity)$

From:

nastygram

Bitch!

[Darlene's curse interrupts whatever else Jake might have to say. She slaps her hand against her shoulder.]

Cocksucking little-- Okay, no. You know what? Bye.

[No more Ms. Nice Darlene. Jake is getting the full treatment. Which, tbh, even while she's catfishing, Darlene keeps herself pretty real. Just sweet enough to get what she wants. She has a hard time representing herself otherwise; too honest, or something.

Which means that it's still probably pretty surprising when she stands up and shoves her chair back with the backs of her knees, grabs her purse and sunglasses and coat and shoves the chair back in again.]

Raincheck, dude. Thanks for the coffee.

[Which she grabs off of the table, and turns on her heel to stalk out of the confines of the cafe's patio, muttering to herself:]

I swear to God, you little--

From:

rathercommon

So what was that for?

[ The voice echoes from somewhere behind Darlene's ear. There's maybe a slight hint of sheepishness, complemented by the fact that her follow-up question is: ]

That...wasn't a real date, was it?

$nastygram: (C:\jrst)$

From:

nastygram

Oh my fucking god.

[--Darlene says, under her breath. Just barely under her breath. She resists the urge to slap her ear against her shoulder to squash Kitty Jones, earwig. Or what the hell ever.]

Are you kidding me right now. Please fuck off already. How are you not getting that I am not wanting to hang out with you right now? Or ever?

From:

rathercommon

[ With an irritable sniff - ]

Tell me what that was about and I'll go away.

$nastygram: (C:\dontdothatthen)$

From:

nastygram

That was a date. And while I realize you probably have never been on a date in your life, you're still a piece of shit for screwing everything up for me, and you basically owe me now.

[Except for the part where she spent a long time fucking with Jake's phone. Date stuff.]

From:

rathercommon

I'll have you know that I'm in a committed open polyamorous relationship.

[ The nerve. ]

And that was a weird date. What were you doing to his phone?

$nastygram: (C:\rude)$

From:

nastygram

Wow, gold star!

[Hard fake cheer.]

Guess what? I didn't ask. Because it's none of my business who you're fucking, and it's none of your business who I'm fucking because we're not friends.

[Skirting the phone issue entirely tyvm.]

What the hell do you care, anyways. [AND ALSO] And would you please fucking-- stop doing whatever you're doing and walk next to me like a normal person, you psycho, I'm over this--

From:

rathercommon

[ Firmly: ]

I will when you tell me what you were doing.

$nastygram: (C:\net.personality)$

From:

nastygram

Ugh.

[With a huge eyeroll that Kitty, no matter where she is, will miss out on, because Darlene is wearing her sunglasses. It hardly matters, the eyeroll is basically in her voice.]

Look, I hate to disappoint you, since you were probably spying on me to actually get some real revolutionary shit going for yourself again. Props. But it was. [Slowly.] A date. Okay, Nancy Drew? God, you're a crappy detective. Elbowing your way in and accusing people of shit without basis.