What happened earlier isn't who I am. I don't know why I did what I did, all I can is that it happened. I do regret what I said, but I didn't have control over my emotions.
Right, so you can't control yourself one day, and that makes it perfectly fine for you to throw my trust in you in my face. You're right, and I was wrong. Let's forget about the whole bloody thing! Everything is just fine!
[Those be big words coming from the woman who acts like one most of the time.]
I should of known better. I didn't even say who it was and you went and made the worst possible assumption. Do you know the second hand embarrassment I feel for you or how ashamed you've made me felt? Of course you don't. You are a man who is easily controlled by his anger. A very primal creature. I suppose a man of the bush doesn't tend to interact with women. Perhaps we should keep it that way.
[A long pause. To be suffering that in his vehemence, she must have hit the nail on the head.]
I... ah. I just thought I— Hn. I mean that I never—
[There's a choked sound on his end of the line, followed by the sound of a breath rattling through him. That forced calmness is back in his voice, his tone almost somber.]
[He doesn't speak another moment, his breaths painting the picture that he's composing himself on the other end. Gone is the anger from his voice when he finally finds his words, now replaced with that undeniable melancholy he's still trying to push down.]
Right. I... I just wanted to protect you for a change. I messed up.
[While Momo seems to think she has turned off her own feed as well, she accidentally presses the wrong button and ends up calling him back. If he picks up, he'll hear the sound of sobbing.]
[He does pick up, thinking she might yell at him— which, frankly, would be preferable to silence— but instead hears a sound that somehow wounds him worse than any words. Everything in him aches, his hand trembling as he sets the phone on the coffee table, unable to bring himself to shut it off.
Down onto the couch he goes, casting a bleary-eyed gaze over the den of his townhouse, the sound of her sobbing filling the room as his mind turned. What did he have left? Not Pyro, not his dog. Not even his coffee mug. He'd given her his name- that was no longer only his, either.
He pulls his rifle out of the holster, pushing a rattled sigh through him. He's got his gun, but somehow, that's not enough anymore. It hadn't been in some time. He had a gun, but not the job, not even someone to protect with it. What was the point?
He empties his pockets onto the table next to the phone, the feed still on. Bullets, a few packets of sleep aid, his pen, the jar of Jarate, and a few stray Sleeper darts. All of it somehow feels worthless in light of the sound coming through the phone, something he knew he'd broken and couldn't repair.
Hobbling to the kitchen, he gets himself a glass of water and brings it back to the table, setting it on the surface near the phone with a clunk. He tears open one of those packets and pours it in, his hands shaking terribly as he knows getting any rest without her near is going to be difficult.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 06:53 am (UTC)[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 06:55 am (UTC)[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 06:59 am (UTC)[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 07:08 am (UTC)[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 07:11 am (UTC)[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 07:23 am (UTC)[Those be big words coming from the woman who acts like one most of the time.]
I should of known better. I didn't even say who it was and you went and made the worst possible assumption. Do you know the second hand embarrassment I feel for you or how ashamed you've made me felt? Of course you don't. You are a man who is easily controlled by his anger. A very primal creature. I suppose a man of the bush doesn't tend to interact with women. Perhaps we should keep it that way.
[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 07:36 am (UTC)I... ah. I just thought I— Hn. I mean that I never—
[There's a choked sound on his end of the line, followed by the sound of a breath rattling through him. That forced calmness is back in his voice, his tone almost somber.]
Perhaps we should, pumpkin.
[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 07:43 am (UTC)I'm sure you'll be happier with BLU then with me. You two can continue talking bad about me or whatever it is you do. I don't care.
As of now, I no longer consider you my friend or part of my team.
[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 07:52 am (UTC)Right. I... I just wanted to protect you for a change. I messed up.
[Another breath, shaky.]
I am sorry, Momo. For everything.
[Click.]
[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 07:57 am (UTC)[audio]
Date: 2012-02-25 08:14 am (UTC)Down onto the couch he goes, casting a bleary-eyed gaze over the den of his townhouse, the sound of her sobbing filling the room as his mind turned. What did he have left? Not Pyro, not his dog. Not even his coffee mug. He'd given her his name- that was no longer only his, either.
He pulls his rifle out of the holster, pushing a rattled sigh through him. He's got his gun, but somehow, that's not enough anymore. It hadn't been in some time. He had a gun, but not the job, not even someone to protect with it. What was the point?
He empties his pockets onto the table next to the phone, the feed still on. Bullets, a few packets of sleep aid, his pen, the jar of Jarate, and a few stray Sleeper darts. All of it somehow feels worthless in light of the sound coming through the phone, something he knew he'd broken and couldn't repair.
Hobbling to the kitchen, he gets himself a glass of water and brings it back to the table, setting it on the surface near the phone with a clunk. He tears open one of those packets and pours it in, his hands shaking terribly as he knows getting any rest without her near is going to be difficult.]