orangetoughguy: (my phone is from the 90s)
Mr. Orange (Freddy Newendyke) ([personal profile] orangetoughguy) wrote2020-08-07 01:26 pm

phone post

"Motherfucker, I'm trying to watch The Lost Boys."

☎ CALL
☏ VOICEMAIL
✏ TEXT
✉ NETWORK

signatures: (❝They must be cursing us by now.)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-15 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Hey.

[ Eames sounds a mixture of dazed and nervous, clearing his throat. ]

Can you come pick me up?
signatures: (❝But so charming too.)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-15 08:21 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm not entirely certain, but I might've just been shot.

[ His hands are slippery on the phone - not from sweat, but from blood. He'd tried for a little while to keep pressure on his gut but he just needs to sit, now; it might've been a bad day to go for a walk with Pancake in the middle of Xanadu. ]
signatures: (❝I slew them all for you)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-15 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He panicked! He's used to avoiding hospitals! You're the one with the cawp car?? ]

I'm in Xanadu. By where the talking, maneating plant used to be. [ He takes the time to take another glance down at himself, shushing Pancake when he whines. ] It's... not very good. It could be worse. [ At least it hit his stomach - far better than a headshot, and you certainly can last a lot longer. ]

Shit.
signatures: (❝Why describe in words)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-16 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
Thanks.

[ You're a real friend, Freddy. ]

Do you want me to hang up or stay on?
signatures: (❝but first they cut me with a sword.)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-16 04:03 am (UTC)(link)
All right.

[ Not knowing what else to do, Eames pretty much just hangs up and goes back to trying to keep pressure on his stomach, waiting for Freddy's freckled face. He breathes slow, concentrating on not panicking, despite not knowing what's happened to him, where the attack came from. He didn't hear a gunshot, only felt it. ]
signatures: (❝a real beginner to be put off by light.)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-16 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
[ He fumbles a bit with the device but gets it open to speakerphone, at least! ]

Yeah.
signatures: (❝just a kitchen balcony closed off)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-16 07:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Great.

[ Pancake has taken to laying across his ankles, and he wiggles them around a bit, ensuring he can still feel them as well as to dislodge the pup. The car comes as some sort of surprise - and here Eames'd thought he might have to cling to life on the back of Orange's motorcycle. ]

Don't wreck yourself. [ It's a bit of a dry note. ]
signatures: (❝too a-few-jokes-to-warm-up-the-crowd)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-21 04:53 am (UTC)(link)
[ Eames lets the phone drop to his lap, eyes focused on the stark white of the bandage against Freddy's already pale skin. ]

I looked great earlier today, [ he quips a bit grimly, offering the other man a quick quirk of his mouth. Pancake has hopped off his legs, first scared by the car, but he recognises Orange well enough, a happy bark tapering off into a small whine.

Eames grunts a bit, trying to get his legs under him so he can stand and get into the car.
]
signatures: (❝in small sips; if you take your time.)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-21 05:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ Pancake's never been in a car before, but he's smart enough to get the general jist, hopping into the back and clambering up on the seat with a slightly confused wag of his tail. Eames is more than appreciative of the help, though, finally able to stand with a short grimace. Maybe Freddy's been cutting back on the Mexican and working out more, hey. ]

It already hurts like one, [ he grits out as they make the short distance to the car, trying to ease down into it as one hand goes back to clutching his gut. This is far worse than the thigh incident, he has to say, but at least they don't have to walk all the way.

Funny how they keep getting tangled up like this.
]

I didn't hear anything. [ A gunshot, he means, waving Pancake further into the car so he has more room in the back. ]
signatures: (❝and know that at this very moment)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-21 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
I don't think so.

[ He didn't think he'd been in a good line of sight, either. Closing his eyes, he only nods at Freddy's statement, though he grunts somewhat dryly. ]

If they pin me for excessive defense again... [ Eames trails off, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady. Going into panic or shock isn't going to help either of them, pressing his hand against another warm gush of blood. ]

Is this Saya's?
signatures: (❝It was right there at your)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-21 07:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ Pancake will probably end up sliding all over the seats but hey, he can handle it, his fat rolls will cushion him against danger - though Arthur might get pissed about all the blood on his fur. As for Eames, he just grunts, resting his head against the window of the door. ]

The car, man.

[ Then, as an aside: ] I should've finished off my will this year.
signatures: (❝People always tell us to)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-21 07:54 am (UTC)(link)
[ Eames tries to give Freddy his best withering look from the backseat, but it's only a pained, fatigued glower. This face isn't really prone to looking altogether too upset so it might be akin to finding Samara on your television, but whatever. ]

We have the chance of being killed every other weekend in this bloody place - or outright disappearing - and you're asking me why I'm constructing a will?

[ Also whose car is this... ]

I look like a burst grapefruit. [ Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When Arthur died, he came back - but without a heartbeat, always cold to the touch. The price to get so much of a glimmer of warmth back, Eames still thinks, was too much.
]

If I pass out, you're my proxy.
signatures: (❝insatiable curiosity to try)

[personal profile] signatures 2012-11-21 09:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ What kind of assholes parse off their gifts :|

oh wait these ones.
]

What year were you born?

[ He's going somewhere with is if he doesn't black out before he gets there, shifting (sliding, rather) uncomfortably in the seat as he presses his hands harder into his abdomen. ]

Your birthday.

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[personal profile] signatures - 2012-11-22 17:48 (UTC) - Expand

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[personal profile] signatures - 2012-11-29 16:51 (UTC) - Expand