as_damaged | ☎ voicemail [v 2.0]

maybe we'll all get a turn in the end.

how are you?

to be honest, i hope not.

i've been better, but all things considered, i've been worse. october's off to a rough start, how are you holding up?

not bad. didn't have anything fall on me or drag me underground. haven't had to navigate a tricky divorce.

is there anything i can do?

i don't think most of the "couples" made it to their weddings, luckily.

it's all right, i'm getting by.

you could be better. i wondered if dinner might help with that.

it might. ordering in or going out?

nothing's falling from the sky today. out?

I suppose we might as well take advantage of that fact. it's a rare situation here.

pick you up at eight?

see you then.

[Or he'll be knocking at five minutes to, even, a time calculated so as not to interrupt her in getting ready, while still showing a certain eager interest. For someone whose career path means he's often late to personal engagements, Chase is meticulous about the clock.

He's dressed smartly, but not work-smart. A more tailored suit, and he's lost the tie. White shirt, dark blue jacket that, reflected, similarly darkens his eyes. The indigo wash jeans are standard but the converse have also been ditched for something smarter. Put together, it's all a little more effort than a casual arrangement should have allowed.]

[That, in fact, is exactly her first thought on opening the door; it's a mild note of surprise in her expression. Nothing to mention, but not quite what she expected given the spontaneity of the invitation. It's lucky that by habit she's rarely underdressed, or it might be an awkward moment.]

Would you like to come in for a minute? I'm nearly ready.

[As attested to by bare feet and the lack of a jacket on her arm. It feels rude to leave him in the hallway, even if she's out of the habit of having him visit.]

[He nods, moving past her into the apartment with the usual cursory glance around to see what's changed, what might have been accrued. To see her, as much as her taste has always been representative of that.]

Of course, no need to rush. [And then he lets himself look back at her - no lingering glances when she'd opened the door.] You look great already.

[Impractically dressed for the outside world, yes, but great.]

[Her home is the same quiet place it's been for years, neutral colors and understated art on the walls. The same line drawings, the same sofa, still miraculously unshredded by Grey's claws. Another woman might blush at the compliment; Cameron nearly gives him a look of sharp surprise, but manages to keep it to herself. So much for casual; or perhaps not, which is surprising in itself. It's not the kind of thing she expects, but then, she never knows what to expect.]

Thank you,

[she murmurs with a slight smile, though she doesn't return the compliment in kind.] Just a moment... [This calls for fancier shoes, which she steps away to find, casting a quick glance-- appreciative, and a bit curious-- at him as she passes.]

So, where are we headed?

[In all fairness, he'd have given her the compliment for politeness alone if there hadn't been cause to mean it. Although - in all fairness - that would have to be a very bad day on Cameron's part. Another woman might blush. He'd be the surprised one if it was her.]

Le Petit Oiseau? French. [He says as if she won't have seen the place before, a slight, uncharacteristic nervousness giving itself away in his tone. French, expensive, almost certainly requiring a reservation.] I booked it before I remembered that I should have asked what you wanted.

[Not-so-casual it is, then. Perhaps not even so spontaneous. Now, that's a thought that has her wondering if she ought to be worrying, though she has no idea what she might worry about.

She's made the right call on her shoes, at least.]

French is fine.

[Half-hidden by the closet door, Cameron pulls a light jacket on.]

Shall we?

[Spontaneous enough - he'd just been on the phone again minutes after tapping out the last reply to her. The decision to ask, however, may have involved some prior thought. The timing was a situation taken advantage of.]

If you're sure you've got everything? I don't want to be accused of rushing you half way down the street - there's time.

I'm good.

[Looping her handbag around her wrist, keys in hand, she glances back at him.]

Unless you were just hoping for some quality time with the cat.

[He smiles and glances behind her to see Gray sitting expectantly on the couch.]

No, but next time I bring salmon treats with the take-out you'll know who I really came to see. Well, if you're ready-

[He'll be there to hold the door.]

Don't get her hopes up unless you mean it.

[A last glance around the room confirms she hasn't left anything she needs (not that dinner is much of a trip,) and she slips past him through the open door with a slight quirk of her lips.]

If she's seen the weight my cat's put on lately, she'll know I follow through.

[And he closes the door, hesitating for a minute as if he's forgotten something until it clicks that locking it isn't his job.]

Sometimes I wake up, and he's staring at me.

[She doesn't quite notice the pause, distracted by the fact that it is her job. And one she takes quite seriously, given that the City is the City; it at least provides the illusion of safety, of privacy.]

Don't let him bully you into letting him get fat, it's not healthy.

Have there been any recorded incidents of cats eating their owners? I'm getting scared to sleep through breakfast.

[Genuine question. No, okay, but genuine smile as they head for the streets.]

Only posthumously, as far as I know.

[The light tone keeps it, more or less, from being morbid. Not awfully so, at least. The time spent willing herself to relax is starting to bear results, at least-- it helps that human company is much more effective than the cat's-- so her small smile matches.]

You could always lock your door, if you're worried about being the first.

[Gallows humour, a basic requirement of anyone wanting to survive a specialism outside chiropody. And the cat is something they share, in some small way. He's always grateful to see a flash of grey fur when he visits her, and know that tenuous link still exists.]

And wake up some morning cursed and trapped in my own room. Not that that would necessarily be for the worse.

[He glances across at her as they walk.]

Sorry, for offloading the Wilson thing on you. You're better at getting through to him.

→ TEXT

Re: → TEXT

→ TEXT

→ TEXT

→ TEXT

→ TEXT

→ TEXT

→ TEXT

→ TEXT

→ TEXT | augh sorry for s l o o o w ;;

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too

→ ACTION // would you care if i care too