Mask or Menace ☂ IC Phone Post

[numberthree]

INBOX Voice | Text | Call | Video | Surprise Me A flat computer automated voice comes on and states in monotone: "This is the voicemail box for Allison Hargreeves. Leave a message at the beep."

Luther

Diego

Klaus

Five

Ben

Vanya

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[numberthree]

[ Allison can't help lingering on those words as soon as they are said. There's a precarious surprise, as blunt as it is by the night without sleep, in the strange place, in Luther admitting it at all. At the way, everything seems blown open thrown parallel to last time. When they could barely exchange a word.

She studied the menu over the coffee shop registers, ordering two coffees, and two breakfast sandwiches, and leaning to look at the bakery. When her breath caught looking at something she hadn't expected to see there. Which just seemed like another sudden brick of surprise dropping itself. Before ordering a few of those, too.

It's probably three or four minutes, once she done when she's finally able to answer Luther.
Holding the bakery bag and waiting on the rest. Restless at this time already. ]


Not that it changes anything, but I wish none of us did.

[obediences]

Yeah.

[ Now that they're out in the cold light of the next morning, there isn't as much for Luther to do here at the house. There's the hole in the wall, but the rest of it has him helpless, useless, compared to everything Allison is likely fielding at Aegis. So he pauses, thinks it over, but then sends: ]

Do you need anything from home? Would it help if I stopped by Aegis for anything?

[numberthree]

[ Allison knows she's tired because the answer inside of her -- the one she knows is only her, and very much not Vanya or for-Vanya -- is Luther. It's that undeniable, unforgettable ache in her chest that is only Luther. It's that truth that answers his first question with only wanting him from home. To see him. His face. What exactly that face is. Where exactly they are. Even this much talking is somehow more than she ever expected.

She wants to see him. She thinks just one look at him, his face, his eyes, his posture, his tone of voice, could tell her more of the truth of where they are than fifteen hundred of these messages. She doesn't want to let go of what she has, she never expected this much when he let go of her at the door, but she wants more -- which might as well be a treatise on her traitorous heart. ]

Probably not yet. I'll tell you if it changes anytime soon.

[obediences]

Got it.

[ And he, obediently, pulls back until asked-for. Because she's too far away: inaccessible, squirreled away and dealing with a situation that he's itching to get involved in, to fix, but it's not his place anymore. He fucked that up royally, the last time he tried.

In the meantime, there's a work shift to rearrange, swap with someone else if he can, go grudgingly lug furniture if he can't. ]