He generally tried not to mope around maudlin and quiet; but this day brought out something terrible in every tale with mother issues, and even Reynard wasn't delusional enough to pretend he didn't have them too. So he was lounging on that dark couch when Jess called, his limbs sprawled across the cushions, an empty glass in his hand and an open book perched on his knees. He hadn't been paying much attention to it. Some book, some sort of pretentious fiction. He wasn't in the mood for it, but it was the lesser of many evils: Reynard was even less in the mood for television or the inane chatter of the journals.
So he picked up the phone relatively quickly.
"Hi, Jess."
Caller ID; the cost of the service was a pittance next to the comfort it gave.
Arched eyebrow. "After dinner? It doesn't seem too odd to me."
He could hear a certain catch in her tone, but it was too soon to judge. Reynard himself sounded -- different, certainly, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly how. Even he wasn't entirely certain what had gone wrong today.
Comments 15
So he picked up the phone relatively quickly.
"Hi, Jess."
Caller ID; the cost of the service was a pittance next to the comfort it gave.
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( ... )
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He could hear a certain catch in her tone, but it was too soon to judge. Reynard himself sounded -- different, certainly, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly how. Even he wasn't entirely certain what had gone wrong today.
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( ... )
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