An automated feminine voice: "262 – 4396 is not available. Please leave a message after the tone. When you are finished you may hang up or press 1 for more options."
[ In response, a grainy and low pixel picture will be sent his way.
On the driver's side, there's significant damage. The chalk white of heavily fragmented glass makes up a fragile circle roughly the size of a large bowling ball. Thick cracks extend outward in all directions, including toward the passenger's side. ]
Christ almighty, what the hell did you do to get that??
( He's had some time to resign himself to the fact that he's gone and gotten himself wrapped up with Panorama's most unfortunate youth — a hard title to earn given the bullshit every single person here has to go through. Somehow, despite that, she still manages to surprise him with brand-new misfortune on a regular basis. )
from the looks of it, they're gonna have to replace your whole damn windshield. you could probably find a place a few hundred bucks cheaper if you shop around, but 700 ain't out of the realm of realistic.
you go alone? they're likely to jack the price up for a young woman by herself that doesn't know shit about cars.
( Some things don't change no matter what planet you're on. )
I didn't do anything! I woke up and there was a giant rock on it
Whoever did it spray painted sorry on the hood
[ Another picture: an angular, moss-covered boulder tucked up against the smashed windshield and, indeed, sorry in bright green spray paint to dress up the burgundy-and-rust coloured front hood. There's even a street art-style flourish to it. ]
[ Truth be told, she's of two minds about it. It bristles that she can end up so far from home and have her disadvantages be exactly the same — she's a woman, she's young, she's biracial without a drop of that convenient white — but none of that is Frank's fault, and the offer is very kind.
The man in the fire hydrant-red coat and the bloke with the scar on his chin that somehow ended up in the backseat of her car, grey and ashen and perpetually choking on their own coagulated blood, glaring at her every time she glances into her rearview mirror? They are his fault.
But she can't exactly get squirrelly about it six texts in, can she? ]
Thanks, Frank Appreciate it
Lunch is on me :)
You like sushi right?
[ She's fucking with him. It'll be pizza or something else Grunt Grunt Manly American Men like. ]
[ A handful of hours later, charitably between 9PM and midnight, she sends him another picture. He'll recognise the bar she works at, the one he occasionally frequents. On the far corner of the bar itself is one (1) familiar moss-covered boulder. A pair of large sunglasses have been put on it. Beneath the sunglasses, a crooked half smile has been drawn on in sharpie. Above the sunglasses, one sharpie-drawn eyebrow is straight and the other is meticulously cocked.
There's a small chalkboard above the rock. At any other time, it might read off a few specials or advertise 2JL cocktails when the band plays. Tonight, and for the foreseeable future, it says:
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
terrorisms) wrote2025-06-06 02:13 pm
text.
Is that normal or am I being scammed?
[ For the sacred timeline: toward the end of June, after resort madness. ]
no subject
what's wrong with your windshield
( his natural inclination to be irritated is overridden immediately by car-stuff-dadmode. )
no subject
On the driver's side, there's significant damage. The chalk white of heavily fragmented glass makes up a fragile circle roughly the size of a large bowling ball. Thick cracks extend outward in all directions, including toward the passenger's side. ]
You should see the other guy
(I'm kidding)
no subject
( He's had some time to resign himself to the fact that he's gone and gotten himself wrapped up with Panorama's most unfortunate youth — a hard title to earn given the bullshit every single person here has to go through. Somehow, despite that, she still manages to surprise him with brand-new misfortune on a regular basis. )
from the looks of it, they're gonna have to replace your whole damn windshield. you could probably find a place a few hundred bucks cheaper if you shop around, but 700 ain't out of the realm of realistic.
you go alone? they're likely to jack the price up for a young woman by herself that doesn't know shit about cars.
( Some things don't change no matter what planet you're on. )
no subject
I woke up and there was a giant rock on it
Whoever did it spray painted sorry on the hood
[ Another picture: an angular, moss-covered boulder tucked up against the smashed windshield and, indeed, sorry in bright green spray paint to dress up the burgundy-and-rust coloured front hood. There's even a street art-style flourish to it. ]
Yeah I'm alone
no subject
You know what, it doesn't matter. This place is a god damn circus. There's about a million different ways this could've gone down. )
alright look
if you can hold off until tomorrow I'll go with you to a couple places, see if we can get you something cheaper
no promises
no subject
The man in the fire hydrant-red coat and the bloke with the scar on his chin that somehow ended up in the backseat of her car, grey and ashen and perpetually choking on their own coagulated blood, glaring at her every time she glances into her rearview mirror? They are his fault.
But she can't exactly get squirrelly about it six texts in, can she? ]
Thanks, Frank
Appreciate it
Lunch is on me :)
You like sushi right?
[ She's fucking with him. It'll be pizza or something else Grunt Grunt Manly American Men like. ]
no subject
( don't typecast him Nashua, this is a man that learned how to make congee from scratch. he's been around. )
no subject
See you tomorrow
[ A handful of hours later, charitably between 9PM and midnight, she sends him another picture. He'll recognise the bar she works at, the one he occasionally frequents. On the far corner of the bar itself is one (1) familiar moss-covered boulder. A pair of large sunglasses have been put on it. Beneath the sunglasses, a crooked half smile has been drawn on in sharpie. Above the sunglasses, one sharpie-drawn eyebrow is straight and the other is meticulously cocked.
There's a small chalkboard above the rock. At any other time, it might read off a few specials or advertise 2JL cocktails when the band plays. Tonight, and for the foreseeable future, it says:
SAY HELLO TO RAYNE "THE ROCK" ROHNSON!!!!
It's all about making lemons into lemonade. ]