voicemail

[memlost]

[An upbeat male voice comes on:]

Hey, it's Morgan! If you were expecting a girl, you picked the wrong picture. If not, then congratulations! But sorry too, because this means I've missed you. Leave a message!

[Beep.]

(( ooc: feel free to use this for face-to-face interactions as well! just leave a date and voice/action/etc. in the header. ))

Comments

[memlost]

My pleasure.

[ A rote response made heartfelt. His gaze lingers on her for a moment longer, warm, before following her attention to their hands. Funny that such a simple connection should feel so personal. ]

[bloodandblunder]

... I should probably try to rest before you make me any more... er. Red...

[ but she'd rather not sleep again, either. ]

[memlost]

Probably!

[ Making Noire blush is quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes. But he'll cut it out for now... if he must. ]

The sooner you rest, the sooner you'll get better. So I'll sit here and be a perfect pillow for you, no worries! Just pretend I'm not here and I'll keep my yap shut, trap clapped, and gob smacked.

[bloodandblunder]

... I'd like to keep holding your hand, though. [ So, tough. ]

[memlost]

I wouldn't dream of anything else.

[ With no social obligations to distract them this time, he sees no reason why they can't hold hands all day...! Which he does not say aloud or else risk more redness from her. Instead, he settles back and rubs his thumb along her hand in the increasingly familiar way, encouraging her to rest. ]

[bloodandblunder]

[ It's strange, to think she'd tried that gesture months ago, just to try and soothe him-- and yet it's somehow become something incredibly comforting to her. It's why she relaxes now, on the verge of dozing within minutes.

This... isn't bad at all. ]

[memlost]

[ He watches her breath even out and her expression ease, and finds a little bit of ease for himself. He sleeps early enough that this morning's nightmare left him no more tired than usual, but he's content to close his eyes and entertain himself with his own thoughts. That is, until his consciousness slips away without his notice, grain by grain, into nothing. ]