[A tinny man's voice gives what is clearly a default answer machine message. Vira-Lorr is still figuring the phone out it seems.] "Hello, we are not available now. Please leave your name and phone number after the beep. We will return your call." *Beep*
If it has anything to do with people turning into monsters and the hellscape that is the town outside? I doubt it. But yes. There will be a lot of leaning.
I am using something I created before I died. A mirror with a memory of me. Susan gave it to me. She's a very good girl. I was told to tell her that. When I do not feel like a giant punched me in the gut, I will get to the archives.
We can talk about my death when I remember it. The memory of me already chastised me enough. Susan was here, however, so I doubt she came with.
There is a note somewhere. "You are not allowed to speak about holidays" it reads. It says you're responsible. What is this all about?
[Something something. Fat men in red suits. Home invasions. Thefts of cookies. Sacrifices of trees. Bribery with presents. Angelic choirs defeaning people. Telling children all of this.
...
Oh, and babbling about flying infants with murder bows.]
Remember, at a bar while not looking at each other and being awkward but with a fake fire place. Fake flames and everything. It will really set the mood well.
You ruined Christmas for some poor soul. You made a time of apparent joy turn into a violent home invasion and robbery with voyeurism.
[She privately maintained that it was an accurate description. She'd add 'enslavement of elves and wildlife' to the list of nefarious deeds this year.]
Yes, yes. I will remember. Candlelight, fireplaces and talk of death. Wonderful evening. I don't even remember what this Christmas is. So, I can safely say it won't be a problem tonight.
[Have to forgive that shortness. She was feeling awful right there.]
no subject
I figured as much.
no subject
I am using something I created before I died. A mirror with a memory of me. Susan gave it to me. She's a very good girl. I was told to tell her that. When I do not feel like a giant punched me in the gut, I will get to the archives.
no subject
You'd think with an intelligent mind-blowing chicken at your disposal, you'd be harder to kill.
no subject
There is a note somewhere. "You are not allowed to speak about holidays" it reads. It says you're responsible. What is this all about?
[Something something. Fat men in red suits. Home invasions. Thefts of cookies. Sacrifices of trees. Bribery with presents. Angelic choirs defeaning people. Telling children all of this.
...
Oh, and babbling about flying infants with murder bows.]
no subject
You ruined Christmas for some poor soul. You made a time of apparent joy turn into a violent home invasion and robbery with voyeurism.
no subject
Yes, yes. I will remember. Candlelight, fireplaces and talk of death. Wonderful evening. I don't even remember what this Christmas is. So, I can safely say it won't be a problem tonight.
[Have to forgive that shortness. She was feeling awful right there.]
no subject
See you at the party. If you don't show up, I'm coming to find you.