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[ shaw gets home, inevitably, to a plain box sitting on her doorstep, all legally packaged and papered and scrawled with the usual unintelligible codes of delivery boys across universes. in the address field for return to sender, however, there's just two words --
hey, sweetie.
OPEN BOX: Y / N ? ]
hey, sweetie.
OPEN BOX: Y / N ? ]
[ OPEN BOX: Y / N <
it's more difficult to crouch over than it should be, when she's wrapped in bandages and still spinning from vertigo, a little queasy, her head throbbing. it isn't a satisfying ache in the end, when she smells like menthol and rubbing alcohol, when she's spending an extra second just to pick up a damn package from her front step.
she almost shoots the thing, just to see if it explodes. a bomb would be better than the familiar address that she reads off the front, seconds before she tears into it, starting from the top corner, nails digging into the neat scrawl. ]
it's more difficult to crouch over than it should be, when she's wrapped in bandages and still spinning from vertigo, a little queasy, her head throbbing. it isn't a satisfying ache in the end, when she smells like menthol and rubbing alcohol, when she's spending an extra second just to pick up a damn package from her front step.
she almost shoots the thing, just to see if it explodes. a bomb would be better than the familiar address that she reads off the front, seconds before she tears into it, starting from the top corner, nails digging into the neat scrawl. ]
[ congratulations! the box contains:
-- one (1) long sheet of bubblewrap;
-- cardboard flakes;
-- air.
but she probably didn't get that far: the thin slice of a phone microSD card taped to the back of the mailing label must've jarred a nail long before that. ]
-- one (1) long sheet of bubblewrap;
-- cardboard flakes;
-- air.
but she probably didn't get that far: the thin slice of a phone microSD card taped to the back of the mailing label must've jarred a nail long before that. ]
[ it takes a moment or two to register.
she doesn't carry a phone very often, and this one has barely seen use besides the occasional reading assignment. she doesn't go home very often either, but she's fairly certain she's the one doing most of the watching these days, and if she's being monitored -- well.
she knows root wouldn't leave it, if it mattered.
she pops the fragile back of her phone with another scrape, fitting the little piece of plastic in place. the phone screen gets a good stare for a second -- for static, for a virus, for an app to pop up. but she's never really been very patient, so she opens up the documents after a quick scroll of her thumb. ]
she doesn't carry a phone very often, and this one has barely seen use besides the occasional reading assignment. she doesn't go home very often either, but she's fairly certain she's the one doing most of the watching these days, and if she's being monitored -- well.
she knows root wouldn't leave it, if it mattered.
she pops the fragile back of her phone with another scrape, fitting the little piece of plastic in place. the phone screen gets a good stare for a second -- for static, for a virus, for an app to pop up. but she's never really been very patient, so she opens up the documents after a quick scroll of her thumb. ]
[ trust is such an unfortunate commodity to carry in their business. which is to say: one second, ,another before her screen shivers -- and blackens completely, dead as something discharged.
at the center of the black screen, a single word begins to flash on loop: CONNECTING . . .
it takes a moment or two. ]
I thought you'd never call.
at the center of the black screen, a single word begins to flash on loop: CONNECTING . . .
it takes a moment or two. ]
I thought you'd never call.
[ hers is not a soothing voice.
even if it rings a lot more pleasant than she remembers it, when it's screaming from the echoing gap of a closing elevator. the headache she has now is nearly worse than the one she had back then, which lends well to the dark look she eyes the phone screen with. ]
Sorry.
[ she says, voice cracking a little with leftover exhaustion, with the wry humor of someone who's realized that nothing has changed. ]
I didn't really know what to say, if I did.
even if it rings a lot more pleasant than she remembers it, when it's screaming from the echoing gap of a closing elevator. the headache she has now is nearly worse than the one she had back then, which lends well to the dark look she eyes the phone screen with. ]
Sorry.
[ she says, voice cracking a little with leftover exhaustion, with the wry humor of someone who's realized that nothing has changed. ]
I didn't really know what to say, if I did.
That's. . . probably the wiser decision. Between bugs and enchantments planted all around the city, you never know what might overhear you.
[ practicing irons out the shakiness -- it's what, root knows, experience is supposed to do. but the air's all empty, beat after beat, and her tongue scrapes against her teeth like sand.
she closes her eyes. the smile, at least, is audible. ]
How's the head?
[ practicing irons out the shakiness -- it's what, root knows, experience is supposed to do. but the air's all empty, beat after beat, and her tongue scrapes against her teeth like sand.
she closes her eyes. the smile, at least, is audible. ]
How's the head?
[ but that's a new sound. the phone crackles a little, plastic against her fingers. she doesn't smile, but there's a higher lilt in her flat voice that implies she can still take the joke. ]
I think I feel an aneurysm coming on.
But I'm not bleeding.
[ . . . ]
Much.
I think I feel an aneurysm coming on.
But I'm not bleeding.
[ . . . ]
Much.
[ I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY WENT WITH IT, YOU HOMO. ]
Not really.
[ the phone gets balanced between ear and shoulder as she unravels her bandages and inspects the ugly welts underneath. ]
Apparently the psychopaths in this town are rabid and keep their own magical menagerie.
I don't remember the Mafia being so special.
Not really.
[ the phone gets balanced between ear and shoulder as she unravels her bandages and inspects the ugly welts underneath. ]
Apparently the psychopaths in this town are rabid and keep their own magical menagerie.
I don't remember the Mafia being so special.
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