IC CONTACT

[textualhealing]

Leave a message after the beep...

(For all MoM, PSL and random needs. Previous found here.)

Comments

[textualhealing]

Sure. Depends on the problem.

[enustari]

i keep gettng these messages
no idea how to make them stop

[textualhealing]

What kinda messages?

[enustari]

weird astrology fortune shit

[textualhealing]

Did you sign up to anything recently?

[enustari]

no! i barely even use this

[textualhealing]

Block the number.

[enustari]

[... um]

how

[textualhealing]

Seriously?

[enustari]

what
is there a button

im not a fucking expert

[textualhealing]

Check your call settings. You know how to do that right?

[enustari]

why would i know that?

[textualhealing]

Because it's basic phone usage. Do I seriously need to come show you?

[enustari]

that or send bettr instructions
take yr pick

[textualhealing]

It's like you just want to see me.

[enustari]

wow you caught me this was all an elaborate ruse

[textualhealing]

Knew it. You free tonight?

[enustari]

sure
time & place?

[textualhealing]

Kinda assumed you'd already have that planned seeing as this was all a set up to get me on a date.

[enustari]

i assumed youd pick up sarcasm but looks like were both wrong

but fine

8 at [insert shitty dive bar] work for you?

[textualhealing]

I picked up on it, I just chose to ignore it! And look at that, it worked.

Works for me just fine.

action!

[enustari]

[She doesn't respond—honestly it's a miracle she maintained a text conversation for that long—but when the appointed time rolls around she'll be there. In fact, she'll be several drinks in when Jeff arrives, laughing and joking with the bartender. In accordance with the dive-y surroundings, she's dressed in a tank top and cut-off jean shorts, her scars visible.

As soon as he approaches, she'll thrust the offending device at him, a series of messages detailing the ups and downs of a Capricorn's love life already displayed on screen.] Do what you must.

[textualhealing]

[Jeff arrives in jeans, t-shirt and hoody in a vague attempt to sort of kind of fit in. Except his t-shirt alone probably costs more than most other outfits in this bar, but shut up he can't help liking fashion.

He's not entirely surprised she's started drinking without him, he can even appreciate the shorts and tank top look on her, but he's less appreciative of the phone shoved in his face as he slides into the spot next to her.]

Hello to you too. [Taking it anyway to nose through all the texts >(]

Capricorn, huh?

[enustari]

[Sorry, Jeff. Politeness is hardly one of Elsa's star qualities at the best of times and certainly not while she's being plagued by texts about someone else's star sign.]

Ugh. That's the strangest part. It's not even my sign!

[textualhealing]

[No need for manners, Jeff's lost all ability to be polite the second he's got that phone in his hand, now he's just idly prodding with both thumbs, elbows resting on the bar as he zones out.]

Uh-huh. [Is he listening? Maybe. Although he does pause long enough to look up from the phone and back to her.] You must've signed up to something.