( i've been working on a cocktail called grounds for divorce )

[sufferably]

❝ IF IT'S AN EMERGENCY, PRESS SOS. IF IT'S IMPORTANT, LEAVE A MESSAGE. IF IT'S ANYTHING ELSE, HANG UP. THAT MEANS YOU, JIM. ❞ sigyn ◖ 102 ◗ ◖ message ● call ● action ◗

Comments

[sufferably]

( bones' writing is cramped but neat-- slightly tilted lines and defiantly crossed t's. )

i'm from georgia.
and alien is relative, depending on the planet you're from.

( but he's lifting a brow, chucking to himself as he reads the words before heading out the kitchens to cook for the next few days. )

[ffuckoff]

[Fiona hears McCoy in the bathroom, but she doesn't poke her head in. Maybe he's pissing. Still, she checks for a new note when she hears him leave-- it's fun, in a way. She leaves a response.]

Chicago. I'm only an alien if you're not a Bears fan.

[sufferably]

i only follow basketball. but i'm sure your bears are fine enough.

( do the bears actually win in the future? maybe occasionally.

he works nights for a few days, keeps strange hours. )

[ffuckoff]

[And Fiona works most days, a grindingly regular 9-5 shift at the school. She keeps leaving notes.] I used to work at a bar. Baseball wasn't as big. Who's Georgia's team?

[sufferably]

no one to write home about. i like college ball. mississippi rebels.
you the kind of barkeep that can tell what a person's drink is?

( he writes that at 3 in the morning, then collapses onto bed and sleeps for another 7 hours. )

[ffuckoff]

Yeah I haven't heard of them. Are they good? Wait let me rephrase: do they win a lot?

SOCO & coke looks alot like every other thing w/ coke. [Okay, she was mostly a waitress, but she's not about to shatter McCoy's illusions of grandeur, here. She fucking hated being a waitress at a sport's bar.]

[sufferably]

all the time. south regional champs.

maybe because SOCO's best with lemonade.

( he takes his drinks very seriously. )

[ffuckoff]

[Well it's VERY SERIOUS.] Really? I never tried that but I'd be willing to.

[sufferably]

you find any around here i'll mix it for you
unless you want to do the honors

[ffuckoff]

We can both do it. I'll give you pointers, since I'm such an expert and all.

[sufferably]

you're on.
name your date.

[ffuckoff]

When do you have off next? You work nights right? Not that I'm stalking you, but we share a bathroom.

[sufferably]

you're a stalker, good to know.
i'm off tomorrow actually
apparently you can't work 10 days in a row without people giving you weird looks

[ffuckoff]

Yeah it goes great with my plan not to hate my roommate or make him hate me.

Yeah this place has got weird standards. No health benefits or child labor laws but don't tire yourself out!

Anyway I get back at 5pm. I'll swing back and grab you for a drink.

[sufferably]

if i haven't been smothered by well-intentioned coworkers, i'll see you then.

[ffuckoff]

[So when Fiona gets home from work, she changes out of her work clothes into something fashionably conservative (he is from Georgia. A simple sweater / jeans combo will do) and knocks on his bathroom door.] Hey, it's your stalker. Got any locks of hair for me?

[sufferably]

( bones exists in various iterations of checkered button-downs and jeans, favoring blues out of some misplaced sense of obligation. when he swings open the door he's having a one-sided conversation with his new god-given pet, who is balanced on his shoulder. )

Yeah, ( he says, like talking to small balls of fur is completely normal, ) that's what I said--

( and then he stops as he spots fiona. )

I'm afraid not.

[ffuckoff]

[Fiona narrows her eyes at McCoy's special friend.] You got one helluva fungal problem there. [You know. "Hi, nice to meet you," all that jazz.]

[sufferably]

( he scowls, but it's not really directed at her. )

Yeah, I know. Some people got expensive wine or photos from home, I got this thing.

( the thing in question coos in response. )

Shut up, you.

[ffuckoff]

[Fiona laughs, and takes a broken stopwatch out of her pocket. It's been through the wash more than once, and the screen is cracked, and the paint is worn off the buttons.] I got this thing. We can trade, if you want. [Cheer up, grumpy gills. Fiona leans against the door frame.]

[sufferably]

( he steps out into the hallway and tilts his head at the stopwatch. he's never actually seen anything like it. wristwatches still exist, as an aesthetic thing, in his time, but stopwatches have long since gone extinct. )

What is it?

[ffuckoff]

[Fiona hands him the stopwatch.] Do they not have stopwatches in Georgia? [For literally the first time, it occurs to her that just because he's an American Human doesn't mean he's her kind of... both of those things.] Because we sure don't have those in Chicago. [She nods toward the... thing on his shoulder.]

[sufferably]

Oh. Usually they're combined with everything... ( mumbling, again. but after he's looked it over he hands it back. )

It's a Tribble. They're from Iota Geminorum IV, not Earth.

[ffuckoff]

What, like a toaster? [She waves him to her room, where she's already set up the drinks and cups on a card table.] That's a lot of sounds for something that doesn't have a mouth.

[Wait.] Does it have a mouth?

[sufferably]

Huh? No, like your credits and comm and mail. ( waves a hand. it's not important. )

It has a mouth. All it does it eat and annoy the hell out of me, it should have a mouth.