IC Contact

[lostmygrace]

This is Anna. Leave a message?

Comments

call;

[hexyoutotuesday]

[Riiiing. Riiiiiiing.]

call;

[lostmygrace]

[Hold on, hold on--]

Hello?

call;

[hexyoutotuesday]

Uh--

Hey.

call;

[lostmygrace]

... Jinx?

text; tuesday afternoon

[paterelohim]

Have any interesting dreams lately?

text;

[lostmygrace]

Same as the rest of the city.

text;

[paterelohim]

You should probably know it was mine.

text;

[lostmygrace]

[This is the most delayed text ever.]

Oh

Voicemail;

[paterelohim]

Hey, Anna. Want an early Christmas present?

callback

[lostmygrace]

[...That's an interesting message.]

Uh.. how do you mean?

~

[paterelohim]

Hold on-

[Brb, sending her a file. It's a video of Lucifer and Michael at the Masquerade ball, laughing and tripping over each other, a table strewn with spilled salt, shot glasses, and used lime wedges behind them. They're giggling and dancing and obviously completely hammered.]

[lostmygrace]

[And... Staring. And staring. And hand over mouth because no, she isn't laughing, but she's something.]

Is that- Are they drunk?

angel radio;

[servingfather]

Anna, may I have a minute of your time? Preferably in person. Just pick a time and location.

callback B| because she can't reply to that you jerk

[lostmygrace]

[Obnoxious ringing]

voice; come on sis. there's no need for name-calling.

[servingfather]

Hello Anna.

voice; dickbag

[lostmygrace]

Hello, Michael.

My home isn't angel proofed.

[And she's home alone. As much as she'd like to tell him to go take a hike, he does still primarily scare the crap out of her. Even if he's nicer than Lucifer. ... Sort of.]