Hello and welcome to the mental health hotline
In which Gary (You remember him, right?) takes matters into his own hands. PG.
It was Thursday. Thursdays, in Robin’s experience, were miserable. If and when the apocalypse came, it would doubtless come on a Thursday.
His screensaver was even more boring than usual, somehow. God. Thursday.
His phone rang, and he hesitated for a moment before deciding that yes, it was probably worth it to pick the damn thing up. “Hello?”
“Hello,” the receptionist said, and giggled into his ear. This was an event in and of itself, because the receptionist they had at the moment was at least seventy and had never married and looked like she was permanently sucking a lemon. She was terrifying. The force of her glare at latecomers had been known to melt glass. Jenkins’s glasses had actually melded with his face. The burns had been horrific.
And she was giggling like a schoolgirl. “Mr Stone? Are you there?”
“Yes,” Robin, who had over the years gotten quite good at sounding normal despite being in total shock, said. “What is it?”
“There’s a gentleman to see you,” she said. She said “gentleman” like she was an eighteenth-century courtesan and the Dukes of Gallance, Bravery, and Riches had just come to call. With flowers, maybe.
“Um,” said Robin. “Should I come down there, or - “
“I’ll come up,” someone drawled into his earpiece. The voice was perfect for drawling in. If you imagined people drawling, this was the voice you imagined them doing it in. It was smug, self-satisfied, so in control as to be bored, and probably got a lot of tail. It also sounded vaguely familiar. “Don’t bother yourself.”
Robin felt a sudden, overpowering wave of self-consciousness wash over him, and wondered if he’d done anything stupid this morning, like maybe cut himself shaving, or not shaved at all. Perhaps he’d forgotten his pants. It had never happened before, but if it was going to, right now was obviously the time.
A minute later, there was a tall man lounging against the wall adjacent to Robin’s desk. He lounged even better than he drawled.
“Hey, Stone,” he said, “I’ve got to ask you something.”
Robin wished desperately that there weren’t quite so many bored people in his building to flock to every semi-interesting thing that happened. Jill (And he’d successfully avoided her for a week, dammit, that was the end of that record) gave the guy a nervous, flirty little smile. Meanwhile, he tried to remember where he’d seen this man befo-
“Oh,” he said suddenly. “You’re…. Gary?”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Gary said. “Now, Stone, here’s the thing.”
“It’s Robin, actually,” Robin told him.
Gary gave him a puzzled look. “I know your name.”
“Right,” Robin said, “Right. Go on, then.”
Gary continued, “The thing is that no matter how happy you are, up here in your fine - What is it you do here? Ma’am?”
Jill pointed at herself. “You’re asking me? We… pencils. We do things with them.”
“Excellent. So, Stone, while you’re up here doing fascinating things with pencils, I have to listen to him moping around, being completely and incurably emo. I think we have a few days, hours, maybe, before he starts listening to Dashboard. Do you know how completely horrific Dashboard Confessional is? It’s awful, Stone. It is the armpit of modern music.”
“Oh-my-God-shut-up-don’t-you-know-where-we-are,” Robin said in one long, desperate breath.
Gary smirked at him. “You’re looking a little red in the face, Stone. Maybe you should go freshen up. I will be more than happy to accompany you, thanks for offering!”
“What,” Robin managed before being dragged away.
Jill waved at them over the top of her cubicle as they left.
“Look,” Gary said as soon as they were away from the more crowded area of the office. “I don’t have the whole story. Now I can see why you’d want to dump him, what with his kind and embracing nature, but I’m getting the feeling that isn’t it. So what happened? Chasing some cute coffee-boy ass? You’re not supposed to have in-office relationships but everyone does it?”
“If that’s why you came by, you can get the hell out,” Robin said. “I’m not seeing - Just get out.”
“Nah, I need pencils,” Gary said. “I need pencils and the scoop. And earplugs. Earplugs to block out Dashboard Confessional.”
“Why do you need pencils, exactly?”
“Everyone needs pencils, Stone,” he said with great gravity.
Robin sighed heavily, went to the supply cabinet, took out a box of pencils, and handed them to Gary. “Here. Pencils.”
“Thank you very much,” Gary said with the same solemnity, and pocketed them. “I expect you don’t have earplugs?”
“No.”
“Ah well. I suppose I might not need them.”
This got Robin’s attention. “Why not? Not that I care.”
“Well, he met this Japanese kid. Hiro - Something like that. I just remember because they were watching some ridiculously gay movie together.”
“Oh,” Robin said stiffly. “Good for them.”
“Well, I’ve got my pencils, so I’m leaving,” Gary said. They walked back to Robin’s cubicle. “Oh, do you have a piece of paper?”
Robin handed him a small legal pad. Gary wrote something on it, ripped the sheet off, and handed it to Jill. And smiled. Charmingly.
Robin could not wait for this man to leave his building.
It was only after Gary left that Robin noticed there was something else written on the legal pad. I’m supposed to tell you to go to the bookshop soon.
Feeling more than a little paranoid, he stuffed the note into his pocket, went to the copy room, and shredded it. Twice.
The bookshop.
Dammit.
It was Thursday. Thursdays, in Robin’s experience, were miserable. If and when the apocalypse came, it would doubtless come on a Thursday.
His screensaver was even more boring than usual, somehow. God. Thursday.
His phone rang, and he hesitated for a moment before deciding that yes, it was probably worth it to pick the damn thing up. “Hello?”
“Hello,” the receptionist said, and giggled into his ear. This was an event in and of itself, because the receptionist they had at the moment was at least seventy and had never married and looked like she was permanently sucking a lemon. She was terrifying. The force of her glare at latecomers had been known to melt glass. Jenkins’s glasses had actually melded with his face. The burns had been horrific.
And she was giggling like a schoolgirl. “Mr Stone? Are you there?”
“Yes,” Robin, who had over the years gotten quite good at sounding normal despite being in total shock, said. “What is it?”
“There’s a gentleman to see you,” she said. She said “gentleman” like she was an eighteenth-century courtesan and the Dukes of Gallance, Bravery, and Riches had just come to call. With flowers, maybe.
“Um,” said Robin. “Should I come down there, or - “
“I’ll come up,” someone drawled into his earpiece. The voice was perfect for drawling in. If you imagined people drawling, this was the voice you imagined them doing it in. It was smug, self-satisfied, so in control as to be bored, and probably got a lot of tail. It also sounded vaguely familiar. “Don’t bother yourself.”
Robin felt a sudden, overpowering wave of self-consciousness wash over him, and wondered if he’d done anything stupid this morning, like maybe cut himself shaving, or not shaved at all. Perhaps he’d forgotten his pants. It had never happened before, but if it was going to, right now was obviously the time.
A minute later, there was a tall man lounging against the wall adjacent to Robin’s desk. He lounged even better than he drawled.
“Hey, Stone,” he said, “I’ve got to ask you something.”
Robin wished desperately that there weren’t quite so many bored people in his building to flock to every semi-interesting thing that happened. Jill (And he’d successfully avoided her for a week, dammit, that was the end of that record) gave the guy a nervous, flirty little smile. Meanwhile, he tried to remember where he’d seen this man befo-
“Oh,” he said suddenly. “You’re…. Gary?”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Gary said. “Now, Stone, here’s the thing.”
“It’s Robin, actually,” Robin told him.
Gary gave him a puzzled look. “I know your name.”
“Right,” Robin said, “Right. Go on, then.”
Gary continued, “The thing is that no matter how happy you are, up here in your fine - What is it you do here? Ma’am?”
Jill pointed at herself. “You’re asking me? We… pencils. We do things with them.”
“Excellent. So, Stone, while you’re up here doing fascinating things with pencils, I have to listen to him moping around, being completely and incurably emo. I think we have a few days, hours, maybe, before he starts listening to Dashboard. Do you know how completely horrific Dashboard Confessional is? It’s awful, Stone. It is the armpit of modern music.”
“Oh-my-God-shut-up-don’t-you-know-where-we-are,” Robin said in one long, desperate breath.
Gary smirked at him. “You’re looking a little red in the face, Stone. Maybe you should go freshen up. I will be more than happy to accompany you, thanks for offering!”
“What,” Robin managed before being dragged away.
Jill waved at them over the top of her cubicle as they left.
“Look,” Gary said as soon as they were away from the more crowded area of the office. “I don’t have the whole story. Now I can see why you’d want to dump him, what with his kind and embracing nature, but I’m getting the feeling that isn’t it. So what happened? Chasing some cute coffee-boy ass? You’re not supposed to have in-office relationships but everyone does it?”
“If that’s why you came by, you can get the hell out,” Robin said. “I’m not seeing - Just get out.”
“Nah, I need pencils,” Gary said. “I need pencils and the scoop. And earplugs. Earplugs to block out Dashboard Confessional.”
“Why do you need pencils, exactly?”
“Everyone needs pencils, Stone,” he said with great gravity.
Robin sighed heavily, went to the supply cabinet, took out a box of pencils, and handed them to Gary. “Here. Pencils.”
“Thank you very much,” Gary said with the same solemnity, and pocketed them. “I expect you don’t have earplugs?”
“No.”
“Ah well. I suppose I might not need them.”
This got Robin’s attention. “Why not? Not that I care.”
“Well, he met this Japanese kid. Hiro - Something like that. I just remember because they were watching some ridiculously gay movie together.”
“Oh,” Robin said stiffly. “Good for them.”
“Well, I’ve got my pencils, so I’m leaving,” Gary said. They walked back to Robin’s cubicle. “Oh, do you have a piece of paper?”
Robin handed him a small legal pad. Gary wrote something on it, ripped the sheet off, and handed it to Jill. And smiled. Charmingly.
Robin could not wait for this man to leave his building.
It was only after Gary left that Robin noticed there was something else written on the legal pad. I’m supposed to tell you to go to the bookshop soon.
Feeling more than a little paranoid, he stuffed the note into his pocket, went to the copy room, and shredded it. Twice.
The bookshop.
Dammit.