☎ voicemail [v 2.0]

[as_damaged]

❝You've reached Allison Cameron, please leave a message.❞

☎ voicemail ☎ text message ☞ action

[ooc: retired thread, for reference, here.]

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hold my hand, ooh baby it's a long way down to the bottom of the river

[intheblanks]

[The cat deigns to stalk back and forth in front of Chase's face, his eyeline now somewhere level with Cameron's lap, but blocked by a small patrol of purring grey fur which nudges it's face against his nose on every pass until he finally relents to stroking it.]

You should meet my... my new-old cat.

[It's not completely clear whether he's talking to Grey or Cameron, but no matter. A few moments later his elbows have skidded forward enough that it's a small drop to rest his head and curl in, blond hair mussed against her leg.]

I'm just

[Struggling to keep conscious. Quietly losing the fight.]

Just. Trying to be better.

[He's trying to feel better. It's the more possible (still unreachable) choice.]

hold my hand, ooh baby it's a long way down to the bottom of the river

[as_damaged]

[She doesn't realize she's holding a breath until she lets it out, slow and quiet and wavering a little. Now there's no second-guessing her decision to ask him to stay.

She puts a hand out for the cat to sniff, not far from Chase's cheek but not quite in danger of brushing against him. It's a gesture of indecision. Whatever this is about... really about, whatever it is that pushes him to this... She can't bring herself to want to know.]

Better,

[She just echoes quietly, a little numbly, half hoping he won't say anything more.]

hold my hand, ooh baby it's a long way down to the bottom of the river

[intheblanks]

[If he closes his eyes he can listen to her words, and her breath, the faint perfume that still lingers at the end of the day. He can take this small offering of human contact and grasp it like a life raft.]

Shouldn't be so hard.

[Hard to live with. Doing the right thing.

If he could just stay awake. If he wasn't drunk. If he could keep this memory.

If he wasn't already gone, breathing turning laboured and deep as a blank, empty sleep pulls him down.]

hold my hand, ooh baby it's a long way down to the bottom of the river

[as_damaged]

[Aside from the fact that she doesn't have any answers-- she never has, not really, but these days it's more strained than ever, the inconstancy, the uncanny way he is and isn't who she remembers him to be-- it's obvious that he's not waiting on one. Absentmindedly she scratches the cat's chin, unwilling to move too soon in case it wakes him up. She'd rather not have to argue him into staying.

But soon enough his breathing's evened out enough, and she deems it safe to stand-- slowly, cautiously, slipping a cushion onto the end of the sofa in case he stretches out a bit, into the space now unoccupied.

And maybe, just for a moment, her hand lingers on his shoulder after tossing a throw over him. Who's to say?]