[Call to Rush]

[wildmage_daine]

[Daine wakes up repeating the number to herself, and scrabbles blindly at the bedside table for a moment before thinking to give herself cat eyes to better find her phone in the darkness. She said she'd text, but calling is faster; as soon as she's punched in and double-checked the number, she hits the call button and waits tensely for someone to pick up. Finally, someone does.]

Rush? Is this Nicholas Rush?

Comments

[lottawork]

[The noise rouses Rush immediately, jerking him partially awake. He's roughly where he imagined he would be: sprawled on the floor of his apartment at the foot of one calculation-coated wall. His method of waking is sporadic as he twists disorientedly for a moment, then drags himself to the Gordian knot of wires nested next to one of the apartment outlets to retrieve his phone from the mess and answer it.]

Yes.

[The voice that answers is something that attempted to be sharp and clipped, but the lingering fear and agitation persists, as does the halfway-mumbled diction, still thick from exhaustion.]

Yes. Hello. Is that you?

[wildmage_daine]

[Oh, thank the Goddess. Daine lets out a relieved breath, echoed by a faint, curious snuffle from Sarge - also woken by her earlier scrambling, and now wondering what all the fuss is about. Daine gives his head an absent pat and tries to angle the phone away from his questing nose.]

It's Daine, yes. Are you all right? You didn't have to wait long?

[lottawork]

[It has occurred to him that he should actually sit up rather than crawling about on stinging elbows and knees, so he partially collapses against the nearest wall as he props himself up to lean against it, head lolling somewhat. His heart is still thundering, but his relieved breathing is taking care of that, largely]

Yes. Yes, I - will be. It wasn't long.

[It didn't feel long. And the deeply unpleasant experience is over, which is what is most salient.

His voice lowers in volume, but not in its rare sincerity.]

Thank you.

[wildmage_daine]

Good. Time can get a bit funny in dreams.

[She hasn't forgotten how long that nightmare of the Games seemed to last. It was a shock to wake up after what felt like hours and find that far less time had passed in the waking world. But it seems Rush wasn't left to his own devices for that long, for which she's grateful. What an awful nightmare to be trapped in alone.

His thanks prompts a faint, tired smile.]

You're welcome. I'm glad I could help.

[lottawork]

[That prompts a short, mildly perplexed pause. Gratitude isn't an emotion he makes a habit of expressing frequently and to have that sentiment reflected back at him is something of an alien sensation.

Alien. No. That is not conducive to controlling his breathing. He continues a shade too hastily.]

Yes. Well. I should let you return to -

[ - to whatever it is one does after that, though Rush has no idea. He certainly won't be participating in any more sleeping or dreaming, and he's noticed an error in one of his equations scribbled on the wall that requires his repainting and attention.]

- to your sleep. I suppose.

[wildmage_daine]

[Daine's smile widens a little in response to his audible befuddlement. Not that she can blame him for being out of sorts after all that.]

Okay.

[She smothers a yawn. There's really no question of her going back to bed. Because she knows how to take care of herself.]

We'll have to meet properly, sometime. Take care of yourself until then.

[lottawork]

Yes, yes.

[Pause. There's probably some deeply important social cue he's missing here. Fuck. Fuck fuck.]

I will...see you. At some point. Then.

[Yes. That should cover it.]

[wildmage_daine]

[Odd's bobs, he has no idea how to talk to folk. Daine can sympathize. She's been there. She'll make it easy on him.]

Goodnight, Rush.

[lottawork]

Yes. And you.

[After a moment's stuttering pause in which he considers whether he's skipped over some vital communicative step, he hangs up.]