[The feed opens with a small house with an even smaller lawn that’s drowning in Christmas decorations. Pickles can’t be seen yet, but he can be heard, his voice somewhat distracted by the world-wrecking levels of holiday cheer concentrated on this one piece of property.]
Jeez, s’ like droppin’ shrooms in the Hallmark aisle.
[He turns the phone so the
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[There was already some dude with a parrot face ranting about the rights of angels over the network, and talked about racism. Sometimes Pickles didn't even need drugs to see strange shit in this place.]
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[ She could have used text, but she never liked how impersonal it sounded. It was terribly cold and lifeless, and she found that she preferred the vitality that came with a voiced response. After all, how else would he be able to hear the amusement that bled into her tone like an unverbalized chuckle meant good-naturedly. ]
Are you planning on giving me one, or did you just want to show them off?
[ Having been in the kitchen during the afternoon, the clink of a silver spoon against porcelain is faintly evident in the background. ]
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So he doesn't mind when Caster switches to voice, grinning a little bit at her question.]
I'd totally share with you, if I really had 'em.
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[ If he listened closely, he might catch the soft rustle of a napkin, as she rested the spoon against it. ]
So, then, has Christmas given you a craving for coconuts, or did you not have any particular reason in bringing it up?
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[And she might hear the faint tapping of his free hand drumming against the couch cushion he was slouching against.] I'm just givin' you shit, Caster. [A beat.] But I dunno, I guess I wanted to see what was up--if yer still around an' all that.
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...God, I never woulda expected you to say that. Yer not gonna yell at me for like, traumatizing the fuckin' children or somethin'?
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