(no subject)
Who: David Fisher (Papa Bear) & Belinda Harris (Jack the Giant Killer)
What: Voice mail and perhaps a call back? The day after this, this and this.
When: Tuesday mid-morning around 11AM
Where: Break room at the MetLife Homeowners department.
Rating/Status: PG / Finished
David had slipped into the break room a good ten minutes early, allotting himself enough time to leave a quick voice mail on Belinda's cellphone. The evening prior had been uneventful in the sense that he hadn't gotten drunk and he hadn't gone out to the nearest churchyard and bit the heads off of live chickens as per his usual nocturnal activities. Neil had come over and had talked some much-needed sense into David's thick blonde head and thankfully, David had been stone sober, so he had remembered every word of it.
Flipping his stone age cellphone open, David pressed out Belinda's number and put the phone up to his ear, listening as the connecting end began ringing. A few rings later, Belinda's voice happily piped up that she was unable to come to the phone and after rattling off a long list of numbers regarding dispatchers, the cubicle farm and last Wednesday's D&D scores, the message finally finished with an ear-piercing beep.
Clearing his throat, David's posture straightened at the beep and he attempted an upbeat tone. "Hi, Belinda..." But failed to match her's. "It's David. So how're you?" A small smile as he pressed his unoccupied fingertips up to his temple, eyes closing briefly. "I'll have you know I barely escaped a nasty case of frostbite last night from that cold shower." David reopened his eyes and focused on continuing to work at keeping his tone light. "I uh, well Neil's doing fine, I think we got about ten of those twelve problems straightened out." A pause, coupled with the sounds of his co-workers coming in for lunch. "I was wondering if maybe we could have dinner tonight." A few wolf whistles, David pressing his hand to the mouthpiece of the cellphone and a few incoherent muffled reprimands later and he moved the short distance to one of the break room corners, his hand moving off of the mouthpiece, tone more annoyed and rushed. "Just some stuff I need to talk to you about. So maybe give me a call back?"
Glancing up and over at the counter and table where everyone was seated, he noticed a familiar Ziploc baggie laying unopened in the claws of one of his female co-workers. "Looking forward to your call, bye hun." He said quickly. Bringing the phone down from his ear, David directed his attention to the skinny blonde about to dig into the Ziploc.
"Hey, Sullivan! Keep your diseased meat-hooks off my tuna fish sandw-"
Beep.