[text] Yeah... [text] Alright, well... then would you?
[text] I’m on my way, Miss Saxon. FM
[text] I'm not particularly good company this evening. I think that coming over would be a trip you'd really regret. [text] But I'm sure I've done a lot more damage than you have. And I'd really prefer not to do any more.
[text] That’s subjective, you know. FM
[text] If you’d like me to head over, I can, and I will. Just keep that in mind, yeah? FM
hi hello i like your face
[text] Oh, we do not want to get onto the topic of psychoanalyzing dreams, MacRory. That's a conversation for an entirely different day. However, back to the bugs... I killed a centipede in my apartment earlier today. [text] What if that centipede had other centipedes that cared about it? [text] What if, by killing that centipede, there's one out there that's heartbroken because of it? [text] ... It's not a good day.
[text] … Would you like for me to stop by, Miss Saxon? It’s just that I, um… Y’know. I’ve done my fair share of damage to centipede-kind. I’d be willing to listen. FM
"-- I'll go put the kettle on then.." Kayla hummed as she held onto the phone, turning the sink on to get everything ready. The bounce in her step was still apparent as she hummed on the phone, "so long as you're in one piece and get here before it boils. Otherwise, I'll scrounge some money up and pay someone to trace your call and find you myself.."
“I’ll be sure t’hurry, then, Miss Kayla.”
T’s clicked against Flannagan’s teeth, proving the grin upon his set of features to be true, despite the force of invisibility beyond the mobile in hand. The device was pressed to his bony shoulder as slender fingers tucked a pack of cigarettes into his pocket, accompanied by a worn leather wallet. “I’ll see y’soon, yeah? Five minutes. I’ll run.”