(no subject)
It's a tiny bottle, glass bright with a war of dark and light colors, neatly stoppered and tied with a tiny ribbon. Two voices set inside like some odd recording, noise warbled slightly as though underwater:
"What was that again, dear? Couldn't quite hear you."
"I want to say Happy Birthday to my Jack! And of course you could not hear me, I do not have a -" a quiet squeak and the sound of a hand slapping over her mouth, muffling the noise.
An almost audible smirk, "You already did."
"Oh, oh that is all wrong - you - you are wretched -"
"Better say it quickly then nymph, before your minute’s up."
"Will - will you go away, please?"
"No thank you, dear. I am enjoying the view just fine from here."
"Just - I - fine!" a frustrated groan and the air of pointed ignoring. "I only have very little seconds and oh, this is very strange and I -" a helpless giggle. "Yes, I - Happy Birthday, yes? That is how you say it, I think. I read it in a book and the book said there was a song, but I do not know it so - so I cannot do it very right and I am sorry."
Dry and utterly bored, "Will you stop rambling?"
"I still have seconds - go away!"
An entirely undignified snort.
"A-a-anyway - Happy Birthday and I love you and I - I miss you and I am so so sorry and this is a dreadful present so I am sorry for that too, but I suppose that I can tell you that later and -?"
Brightly, "Time's up."
"But -" a light sigh. "Yes, ma'am."
"What do you say?"
Silence.
Pointed, "Nymph."
Dubious, "Thank you."
"Much better."
Muttered, "Jerk."