talk to me dammit

[fireburned]

"This is Harvestman's phone. If it's important, leave a message. If it ain't, stop fucking calling me."

Texts, calls, pictures of lolcats in IC communication attempts may be posted here. Occasionally Harvestman will change his message depending on how much he hates everything at the moment THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING.

Comments

[fly_punkbat_fly]

Well, that message is basically an immature challenge if ever he heard it.

Pick up. Wait until beep. End call.

Pick up. Wait until Beep. End call!

Pick up. Beep! .................endcall!!

This goes on until he fills up Harvestman's voicemail or someone picks up. Either or!

[fireburned]

He answers when it is not daylight and he is not asleep.

"Kid, I will fucking track you down and break your fingers if you're just doing this for the hell of it."

[fly_punkbat_fly]

"....Oh, hi." Mikey's tone is basically the vocal equivalent of a surprised widening of eyes sliding into a shit-eating grin. Just for fun he throws in a bit of overly innocent curiosity. "Can you even figure out where I live?"

[fireburned]

"Believe or not, kid, you're not the only one trying to get a hold of me in really fucking obnoxious ways." Harvestman still sounds irritated, but also sort of tired.

Which overall translates to grumpy.

"What is it?"

[fly_punkbat_fly]

Oh man. Should he feel guilty that he had only phoned to shoot the shit and then gotten distracted by the irritated challenge Harvestman's message had provided?

Probably a little. "Man, I know; your mom left me her version of Marilyn Monroe's Mr President number completely with sexy weezing." Moving right along before Harvestman can reach through the phone line and kill him, "I was actually just going to tell you about my new clown-shoe shaped bruises but whatever, you don't love me as much as she does, I guess."

....Okay, not so much with the moving right along.

[fireburned]

"You need some real friends." This is not said in an unkind way, despite how the words may have sounded. "And adult supervision. And what the fuck, Mikey. Don't pick fights with clowns."

Seriously serious, Mikey.

[fly_punkbat_fly]

"He picked a fight with me!" Seriously! "Who the fuck up and decides they're going to wear huge red shoes and work for a nut-job with psycho-gas anyway; he was spoiling for a fight before I even got there."

Music starts up in the background, wafting over the noise of city traffic, and then abruptly cuts off again in a manner that suggests the Gotham nightlife is in full swing. "Besides, I have friends; they like the same things I do and could arguably be said to be more Emo then me."

[fireburned]

"What the hell, are you all just grim avengers, grimly avenging crimes committed by clowns?"

He's pretty sure there's more do it than that, but you have to admit it sounds pretty fucking ridiculous. Harvestman's background sounds, in comparison, were pretty much nil. His voice had a strange echo to it, but that was it.

[fly_punkbat_fly]

"Sometimes there are penguins." Mikey realizes he isn't helping his case but then again, he also realizes that even though it's fucking serious business it sounds ridiculous to outsiders.

He doesn't so much protest being a grim avenger of vengfulness, however. "And crazy plant ladies. Ours is a life of solitary shadow lurking and potting soil capers."

[fireburned]

"Then why do you do it without someone to talk to about it?" Harvestman's tone remained patient, but edges of testiness were bleeding through.

Waking up vampires was apparently not a thing to do.

[fly_punkbat_fly]

Apparently. Mikey deflates a little and mumbles something about solitary and lurking into the phone; it's almost impossible to make out even that much once the sound a door slamming open letting more music and laughter spill out into the ....street? Maybe?

[fireburned]

Dammit, he recognized hurt feelings when he heard them.

"Don't do that, cuttlefish, you just woke me up." There is the sound of something scuffling in the background. And some swearing!

"And it's an hour until sunset for me. But I surely mean it, Mikey. You talk all this shit and say you've got all these allies, but the way I hear it is that you're all by yourself. How come?"

[fly_punkbat_fly]

The street noise coupled with the club sounds are still a little overwhelming but Mikey shuffles back from the edge of the building until it all fades a bit before he clears his throat and speaks up again. "Well; not all these allies."

He's not sure if all the people he counts as allies count him. "Besides, I didn't say anything about having allies here with me." He doesn't even really have allies in the same universe.

[fireburned]

"I'm not exactly the greatest ally to have," Harvestman replied dryly. Damn it, he knew this would be a mistake.

Now the kid was attached, and while he wasn't thinking about it when he slept with Mikey (naturally), it sure as hell could be a problem now. He could blow the kid off now or think about it, but one way or another Mikey would get hurt.

And not in any ways the boy could think of.

[fly_punkbat_fly]

"No one said I was counting on you as an ally yet. Oh-- hold on." Mikey drops the phone for a moment in order to settle a BB gun against his shoulder and take aim at the ass of some drunk fool obviously ignoring the protests and pleas of the girl he has pinned to the wall.

When the shrieks of pain have faded sufficiently into the distance, Mikey picks up the phone again, just the tiniest bit breathless with glee. "Sorry, I'm covering the club street tonight. Anyway, you might help or not -- I can't depend on it either way."

[fireburned]

"I need to be sure that's clear. It - " Something beeped in the background. Have more muffled swearing, Mikey, you no doubt can fill in the blanks.

"Got another call. I got to take this, alright?"