fifth draft || [voice]

[poorneedyand]

You know what this place could use? A nightclub.

Don't get me wrong, I like Good Spirits a lot, but you can't exactly go there for dinner and dancing. The pizzeria seems like it has room for musicians, but pizza's not exactly ritzy. Sometimes you just want to go somewhere nice and hear a good band, you know? Putting a Tex Beneke record on just

Comments

/late

[hippocraticly]

Yearning for the atmosphere of the big city?

<3

[poorneedyand]

There's eight million people in New York. I don't think I'd trust me if this place didn't seem a little boring in comparison.

<3

[hippocraticly]

Oh, really? I'm guessing you didn't head out to the country back home a whole lot, then.

gdi, i missed this one ;-;

[poorneedyand]

[There's a long pause.]

No. I don't.

[But hey, maybe Bones' family's a decent subject change.] How about you?

easily done <3

[hippocraticly]

[ ... did he hit a nerve there? damn it. ]

I grew up in the country.

/realizes how many tages there are on this post to do /dies

[poorneedyand]

[...He hit a nerve there. Poor Bones.]

I'm not surprised--so d'you go back much?

we love kay we love kay

[hippocraticly]

I spent the summer there with my daughter before I was activated for duty; it'll be another five years until I can go back. [ and that's being optimistic. ]

[poorneedyand]

[She gives a low whistle. That's a long damned time.]

I didn't know you had a daughter. What's her name?

[hippocraticly]

Joanna.

[ his voice swells with pride. ]

[poorneedyand]

Yeah? [The kind of tone he's got, she'll run with this topic as far away from the subject of her family as possible.] So what's she like?

[hippocraticly]

She's the sweetest, brightest little girl you'll ever meet. Cute as a button.

[poorneedyand]

I bet she is. [And even if she wasn't, Kay'd bet she was anyhow.] How old is she?

[hippocraticly]

She'd be eleven years old now.

[ which is depressing, since he can only envision her at nine years old. ]Or still nine. Depends how you wanna look at it.

[poorneedyand]

[So he'll next see her when she's fourteen? That's rough.]

She sounds like a great kid. D'you get to write to her much?

[hippocraticly]

I write to her all the time.

[ even in luceti. ]

[poorneedyand]

I'm sure it's nice to have that, at least. Seems like it'd be unbearable otherwise.

[Resisting the urge to write unsendable letters is a Herculean task here.]