Brace yourself for a 4!Six!sixthdeadliestNovember 11 2011, 23:44:44 UTC
((Feel free to take this in whatever direction.))
[Tomorrow Six will be cursing the inventor of the cell phone, the inventor of texting, and the inventor of alcohol as he suffers through the day with a powerful hangover.]
[Tonight, however, he will head out to the desert with a large bottle of Jack Daniels and all his regrets, pick a spot to mull over both, and ultimately text Holiday with one of the arguably stupidest messages he could've picked. In his head, he knows he's too drunk to drive back to HQ, but apparently distance won't stop him from telling her how he feels in horribly-typed words.]
So many directions! XD But I know what Holiday'll do. MAKE TL;DR!!!doc_holiNovember 12 2011, 00:40:23 UTC
[She had been staring at the ceiling for a good while now. She wasn't even trying to sleep, even though it was late and she had ultimately resigned herself to her room.]
[What she was doing was laying across her bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to just... not think. When the cell vibrates beside her, however, it pulls her out of the trance that she was trying and failing to fall into.]
[She sighs, picking it up with indifference and... sitting straight up when she sees who the sender is... What? What was he-? Why was he-? Why was he playing with her like this? What the hell did she ever-]
[She opens to message and freezes... Right before pitching the phone across the room. It wasn't in anger. It was more in panic. WHAT WAS HE-... NO, wait, the spelling was awful. Someone must've stole his phone or something or-...]
[She just looks at it, sitting over there on the floor. She can't decide if she's scared or sad or worried or what.]
[She watches from her little spot on the bed, staring the phone down. Suddenly, the screen lights up and it vibrates. Then again. Then one more time. Then it chimes and the worst is over. She half expected it to blow up along with the universe or something.]
[Well, curse curiosity. Slowly, she climbs off the bed, working her way over to the phone, only to see that it's ONCE AGAIN from Six.]
[Holiday sits down on the floor beside the phone, still not even sure if she should so much as pick it up. But she does and opens the message... He knew her name. It was him. It was horribly misspelled, but it was him...]
[It couldn't be though. He knew how to spell, he wasn't an idiot. What on Earth was going on?... She decides to send SOMETHING back, but she doesn't know what. After writing a few hundred out and backspacing all of them, she decides on something.]
Six? Are you ok?
[It probably took about five or ten minutes to send it in all.]
[He rolls his eyes and chugs three gulps of the booze. He checks the level. Darn. He's getting close to halfway. It was a big bottle, too. No way he could've drunk that much.]
[It takes her a few minutes to decipher, but she eventually does. The desert? Why was he out there?]
[... Should she... call him? No. No... Maybe. She didn't know. She doesn't know what's going on.]
Why did you go out there?
[It's only after she sends it that she realizes that it's none of her business. She doesn't know what's going on, but it's just none of her business. Even though she did still care for him.]
No. Im sorry.
[And she just puts the phone down beside her... Not knowing what she should do now...]
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[Tomorrow Six will be cursing the inventor of the cell phone, the inventor of texting, and the inventor of alcohol as he suffers through the day with a powerful hangover.]
[Tonight, however, he will head out to the desert with a large bottle of Jack Daniels and all his regrets, pick a spot to mull over both, and ultimately text Holiday with one of the arguably stupidest messages he could've picked. In his head, he knows he's too drunk to drive back to HQ, but apparently distance won't stop him from telling her how he feels in horribly-typed words.]
i lov yu
Reply
[What she was doing was laying across her bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to just... not think. When the cell vibrates beside her, however, it pulls her out of the trance that she was trying and failing to fall into.]
[She sighs, picking it up with indifference and... sitting straight up when she sees who the sender is... What? What was he-? Why was he-? Why was he playing with her like this? What the hell did she ever-]
[She opens to message and freezes... Right before pitching the phone across the room. It wasn't in anger. It was more in panic. WHAT WAS HE-... NO, wait, the spelling was awful. Someone must've stole his phone or something or-...]
[She just looks at it, sitting over there on the floor. She can't decide if she's scared or sad or worried or what.]
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Rbeca, yo ther?
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[Well, curse curiosity. Slowly, she climbs off the bed, working her way over to the phone, only to see that it's ONCE AGAIN from Six.]
[Holiday sits down on the floor beside the phone, still not even sure if she should so much as pick it up. But she does and opens the message... He knew her name. It was him. It was horribly misspelled, but it was him...]
[It couldn't be though. He knew how to spell, he wasn't an idiot. What on Earth was going on?... She decides to send SOMETHING back, but she doesn't know what. After writing a few hundred out and backspacing all of them, she decides on something.]
Six? Are you ok?
[It probably took about five or ten minutes to send it in all.]
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finne. Jut wanntew to let yu know.
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[Why was he doing this?... Why couldn't he spell?...]
[Wait, was SHE doing this!? Why was she replying to him! WHY DID SHE EVEN CARE!?... WHAT WAS HE DOING!? SHE DIDN'T KNOW!]
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[He types again.]
Tol you. I lov yu.
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Where are you?
[Any answer that wasn't "Providence" would be a good clue.]
[Cause something's wrong.]
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Dessert. Wen ut flyin.
[Hoverboards. He loved them. Ultimate freedom without the hassle of waiting for a jet.]
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[... Should she... call him? No. No... Maybe. She didn't know. She doesn't know what's going on.]
Why did you go out there?
[It's only after she sends it that she realizes that it's none of her business. She doesn't know what's going on, but it's just none of her business. Even though she did still care for him.]
No. Im sorry.
[And she just puts the phone down beside her... Not knowing what she should do now...]
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Kiking msf four leing go of the best thng that's come along or a wile.
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[She stared worriedly at the message. NOW what does she do? Should she respond? How should she respond? He almost seemed-...]
[No. That wasn't it. It was something else going on. It had to be.]
Will you be ok?
[Cause if he was, then she wouldn't have to worry about him... Right?]
[WHY DOES SHE KEEP RESPONDING?]
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[He stares at the message after he's sent it. It's right. He won't be okay. Because eventually, he'll sober up and have to keep going.]
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Where are you?
[The desert isn't good enough. She needs to find him.]
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