[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]

[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.]