consignment - inbox

[wonk]

 

LALONDE.ROXY@CDC.ORG
(0) UNREAD MESSAGES

CONTACTS

INBOX

MESSAGE LOG

DOWNLOADS

text message	audio message	voice mail
<span style="font-family:courier;"> <b>SUBJECT:</B> TEXT <b>SENT:</B> DAY #, HOUR <b>FROM:</B> CHARACTER@cdc.org <b>TO:</b> lalonde.roxy@cdc.org [[200 max character message here]]</span>	<span style="font-family:courier;><b>SENT:</B> DAY#, HOUR <B>CALL ID:</B> CDC ID</span> [[3 minute max message here]]	<span style="font-family:courier;"><b>SENT:</B> DAY #, HOUR <B>( 1 ) VOICEMAIL</B> LAST NAME, FIRST NAME [[3 minute max message here]]</span>

code by unfavored

Comments

[wonk]

FROM: lalonde.roxy@cdc.org

>no dude follow me 2 the statue

>there is some shit goin down over there and i wanna see

[getwrecked]

FROM: strider.dirk@cdc.org

Okay. I'll meet you there.

[And then he'll be flying over through the fog a couple feet above and a few feet away from the statue, staying cautious and not getting too close.]

[wonk]

[Roxy tilts her head, grinning and pulling back about a foot to sit in midair next to him.]

You see some cool shit on this job, huh?

[getwrecked]

Yeah. [He agrees while looking the statue and the surrounding area over. There's a smell of smoke in the air as well as the feeling of static.

Yeah, clothes definitely clinging oddly. He looks at his hand (with fingerless gloves of course) and then reaches over to touch Roxy's shoulder experimentally. Zap~~.]

[wonk]

[Roxy actually snaps her hand up to block out of pure reflex, stopping the motion halfway through and giggling at herself.

Then she grins wickedly and zaps Dirk on the back of his neck.]

[getwrecked]

[His head shifts forward and his hand goes up automatically to brush at her wrist like it's an annoying fly.]

Well that's cleared up. [The static and it's potency.] That must've been one hell of a charge.

[wonk]

Nah, dude. 's like one and a half hells. At least.