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[freakinblur]

Answering Machine meme


☎ Post a comment with your character. This comment functions as their answering machine or voice mail. Include an IC message if you want.

☎ Other characters will reply to these comments to leave your character messages.

☎ Be creative, have characters leave messages when they're drunk/high/bored/being chased by a rabid T-rex, whatever.

☎ Your character can then call these people back and demand an explanation!

Comments

[womanwhobeatyou]

[On the other hand, her own activities have gone silent. There isn't any sounds of rolling luggage, of shuffling about the hotel room. Instead, Irene steps back out onto the hotel room balcony, thinking as she looks over the Champs-Élysées.

She does, however, roll her eyes at the question.]

It'd defeat the purpose of hiding if I told you how or where I plan to do it, now wouldn't it?

[zordaar]

[Worth a try—Sherlock wrinkles her nose and doesn't bother saying it. She's got the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she uses both hands to type, craning her neck to keep it in place. She's trying to find who exactly was on that flight.]

It was a yes or no question.

[womanwhobeatyou]

[The faint sounds of honking, of cabs and other street traffic, drift up from the street. She still sounds distinctly annoyed, but calmer, more business-like. For better or worse, she's formulating a plan, though that does mean straight answers will be even harder to get out of her.]

With you, it's never just a yes or no question.

[That's a compliment. Almost.]

[zordaar]

No? [There's a stirring of interest in that, then a pause, and she shuts it down:] Sorry to disappoint.

[As if making this call at all doesn't convey enough interest—she hates talking over the phone—of course, many things she hates have their charm sometimes—but still.

The texts are better, she thinks—she can do with them what she pleases, there's no attack of information overhead in the background, her mind doesn't race on ahead of her trying to draw conclusions about things she doesn't need to know, like how well Irene knows the area, how well she speaks the language, how long she's spent in and around France in her life. Silence is easier.]

[womanwhobeatyou]

I get an apology now? My, you are out of sorts.

[Said with a laugh. Irene notices another tourist, standing out on his own balcony two rooms down. Boring businessman, troubled marriage, trying to hide his penchant for male escorts from his wife.

Her voice turns conversational, affectionate, even. For the benefit of the man instead of for the woman on the phone, leaving behind the small clues that she was staying in the hotel, in Paris, rather than running or going to ground.]

I'll see you tomorrow then, love? The train in from Antwerp?

sorry for how late this is >_>

[zordaar]

[On the other end of the phone, Sherlock blinks in confusion, the sound of typing stopped for a second, under a second, before the obvious solution presents itself and she rolls her eyes irritably—more annoyed at herself than Irene. Though it transfers easily.]

You're hanging around on the balcony?

—oh. [And that's the sound of Sherlock Holmes having (highly illegally) gotten her hands on a certain flight roster. Her fingers still, a smile spreading over her face.] Perfect.

Send a text next time, won't you? I really do prefer them.

100% alright! <3

[womanwhobeatyou]

[She hears the sound of typing cease, and the guise she's adopted on the balcony allows Irene to laugh, warm and amused, in response as she steps back inside, closing the door firmly behind her.

She doesn't bother asking what Sherlock's found. To ask would be to admit to not knowing, and besides she was certain she wouldn't be given an answer anyway.]

The bellhop thinks I'm leaving. Letting the overweight business man and his male escort on the balcony think I'm not seems prudent.

[Her voice is brisk, business-like again, but the amusement that had been in her laugh lingers] And why should I next time, when the voicemail's worked out so well?