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It'd been minutes--

That was what the little 'sent' time made him believe, as he clutched the newest burner phone, it's plastic creaking, hit redial on the line he knew by now would be dead as all the others -- as dead as his always was -- if he waited too long to get back to it.

That was the purpose, right? Anonymity. Autodeletion's. Safety wrapped in foam and bouncy bubbles. Safety assured for all, because he'd be damned this time around if he got anyone in trouble by being careless as he had been -- ******** -- when? Back in January? In february? While cleaning out the last of 'Aelius' scattered life and...

Waru didn't think as he heard something click and growled out two short, clipped words.

"Have you--" breathlessly hoarse, with the kind of rusty hinge sound that followed a person when they woke startled from a dead sleep. His next breath was a blade being pulled, the sigh from the man on the other end of the lines nose rather bull-like. All the air out, all in one go, the steadying sort of breathing that would've been worrying if it were coming down the back of someone's neck while he stood over them in a line that was moving far too slowly for anyones nerves to take.

The ********> Waru nearly cringed away from the speaker, from the so sweet it made his teeth itch, sympathy. He’d always wondered why Llamas spat, and now? He knew. They must’ve had ‘little p***k’ censors built into their molars or something….

“Not since I was eight—“ Honest as a brick through a window, because ‘happy’ and ‘well’ were different states of being. The newest of his ‘third times the charm’ attempts at sorting his head out the ‘responsible and clinical way’ had assured him he needn’t try and be either all the time…

“Better than you, though. Or — at least I will be —” the barest bleed of impatience, for how he’d asked a question and was trying to stay on track with it and felt distinctly yanked off the path and down some tangential road not his own making for once.

lizbot

He felt like a hawk chasing a butterfly, he dived in recklessly, all open claws and bent wings, only for the mystery-mark on the other end of the line to weave around his obvious-to-himself questions like a bit of flit on the breeze.

Oh-so effortless and masterful! The artful little sky dodger that didn't even need to try---

Which lead to Waru being annoyed that the ******** made it sound so damn easy. Gritting his teeth as he inhaled through his nose, exhaled rough, resettling his expectations. What he'd wanted to be a quick for once conversation, a smash and grab of words, he was rapidly realizing wouldn't happen. No, of course he'd have to put in the work for what he wanted.

"Has anyone ever told you what an a*****e you are." He hoped people had, to Marks face even. A thousand times over. "Like...comparable to other assholes? You're top tier...I'm talking rose petals, spearmints, fresh bleach...just..a shining example of what an a*****e should be..."

"And I think you're misunderstanding the heart of my message..." He tsk'd gently, dragging his fingers across the unoccupied side of his face, through his dreads dangling down. "But that's okay. Can't expect you t'really know me...not till we've met properly.." Speaking like it was an inevitability at this point, as likely to occur as the sun was to someday die.

"Do you want polite, or honest? I can't do both." He snorted roughly, finding the hint of hurt in the other mans tone amusing enough a lead -- a little treat for all his suffering -- even if he couldn't tell whether or not it was feigned entirely for his benefit.

Bait to keep him on the line, and he was ******** gnawing on it like a kong toy...

"And now I think *I'm* offended..." What they had in common was, and a large part of his left and right bicep yearned for the ability to reach through the phone, put the slender sounding neck into a the gentlest of headlocks, just long enough to earn himself new scars in the shape of nails begging for a tap-out. He bet the 'had to be blond' smelled of lilacs, lavender, eucalyptus. No...no..different than that....maybe amber and expensive oils? Rich people s**t.

"Are you saying I couldn't afford to 'treat' you?" He huffed, because if push came to shove he would've at least insisted they go dutch!

"It'd be...gods...a hell of a first date.."

First, last, only ---

"What'd our talking points be? Of all the stuff you think we could have in common...c'mon...even shitty dogs deserve t'be thrown a bone every now n'then..."

"I'm a whole lot of person." Determined now, yanked left as he'd weaved right, and he didn't like feeling out of his social depth with anyone. A class removed -- "The really hard to lose sort, inna...like...bloodhound with a scent kinda way?"

And the next question felt like a choker yanked too hard, he felt his lip curl as he answered, sneering into the nothing as his gaze locked on the wall opposite where he sat, the urge to get up, and move, and do *something* itch, itch, itching beneath his skin already.

"Araullo--"

This little s**t---

"Oh--huhn--does that mean I get a turn too? T'ask my fair share--"

He decided he didn't like the way 'Mark' said his middle name, and yet? The way he rolled his ll's made him prefer hearing it out of another person's mouth far more than his own. The noise over the line, background splashes, pool, beach, reservoir?

Somewhere private, most likely-- but not so private for there to be nothing going on around the other man. Was there company present? Did he have a family? There were ten thousand things he wanted to ask---

He settled on the most banal of the lot, the ones that'd let the conversation drag on at least seconds longer, for there would be no answer to it which would piss him off to throttle the line between his teeth and then throw its remains out the window.

"Of course...alright then...If you could describe yourself in one word---what would it be?"

"You sound like you live a life as charmed as you are charming..." He wasn't sure if the face connected to the voice on the other line truly was beautiful, not by his own definition. Even if the man had arguably aesthetic outsides that matched the musical tones greeting his ears. He'd always been picky when it came to 'beauty', for what counted as such once the packaging was ripped off and all the messy, pinkish hues that made up a real, live person were exposed. And 'Mark' -- sounded to him like the exact kind of black hole that ate all his favorite sunsets at the furthest edges of the stars.

"Me?" It took him a split second more, to register his own middle name, to pick up on what he was being asked, before letting his mouth run wild. "Cold Pear IPAs shared with friends on an old couch, the first touch of a new lover. And fresh, black ink--- the shine of it right before it starts t'scab n'heal? When it's nearly purple, like a bruise."

Another moment, another pause, a controlled breath.

"My husband, Faustite" Softer than all the rest, offered with pointed deliberation. "He's one of the most beautiful people in the world, dontcha think?" A more joyous question, as all his attention narrowed in on the next careful breath coming across the line.

"Husband--" Toothsome was his smile as he said it, to the tune of leather noose-ends curling in a fist, winding tighter, an exsanguination of all sorts of playful joy. It was snuffed out as 'Mark' wound on.

'Has anyone ever told you you're a b*****d to your face? Have they done it on the daily? Oh, but they should -- ******** -- but I'd like to. Every day, for a thousand years, to call you the worst things imaginable and watch--- '

Already he was envisioning a cell with the purposed 'prince of darkness's ' name on it -- they'd kept stronger people down there, hadn't they? ********, if it was good enough for Ganymede? And what did he care for a truce, not with any faction, or for fear of some imagined army. He was sure Headache would've been so displeased with him if he knew which way his thoughts were running, that Muri might've too? But hell, the man had traded gloss and gossamer robes for swaths of with for a reason, yeah? He maybe didn't give a ******** about Question-Mark....

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't be." He agreed like he'd rather be chewing through glass cereal with no milk. A hint of defeat wending through his tone, a hiss of letting on to being outplayed by a more clever ********. "I think he'd appreciate it though, yanno? That someone saw him as a person....haah...or...that they see him that way still..."

"That's not what he is. But it's sweet...t'know my boy has admirers." He let the pretense fall like stones into a lake, no finesse, all heavy clunkiness. The way he couldn't help but sound possessive as he sought to correct something that wasn't necessarily wrong -- before he started yanking the strangling leash in another direction.

"Would you like him to come too -- for our coffee-date? Or do you like t'be alone the first time you meet someone new..."