Duce fumbled for the phone, glancing at the caller ID and scowling. "Who the fuck is Marion Keeny?" she muttered, finally hitting the 'talk' button on the cordless handset. "If this is a marketing or solicitation call, you can fuck right off. Otherwise, hello?"
"So, personally? I don't think your listing in the Phone book really suits you. I think you should change it to Gorgon comma The. I mean, can you imagine the set of brass balls on the telemarketer that saw that name in the book and thought, 'oh she looks like a possible sale!'. Also, Merry Christmas, Sunshine," Jonathan says, he doesn't bother introducing himself, if Duce doesn't remember him, teasing her about it will be more fun in the long run.
"You still sound like you're about 12 years old on the phone, Jonathan." Duce manages to get that much out in a dry, sarcastic tone before she just about bubbles over with happiness, "OH MY GODS! What happened, the old bat finally let you out of the dungeon long enough to make your one phonecall? Merry fucking Christmas to you too! How've you been?"
"The 'old bat' finally had the good sense to die already actually and so I make this, my first phone call as a truly free man. You won't believe where I am," he teases out the last part, "and also? seeing as some of us might be starting to show that 500 years all over again? I'd be backing off my phone voice. Little wrinkly lines, all around your eyes and mouth."
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