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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]

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?