ic contact//CURRENT

[darkov]

[INSERT DEFAULT INBOX VOICE MESSAGE/EMAIL GREETING HERE]
email: ENABLED (will go unanswered)
text: ENABLED (high probability these will go unanswered)
phone/audio: ENABLED
video: ENABLED
latest status update 3/6/2018

Comments

video; memoryshare

[codeofiron]

[The diner is a small, narrow place - the kitchen is exposed, running behind the bar, and a row of booths lining the opposite wall provide the only other seating. The concrete walls are unpainted, broken up only by a few posters and framed photographs. Still, the room is warm. Afternoon sunlight streams in from the open windows next to the booths, there's sizzling as a man in an apron with a puff of light brown hair cooks something on the griddle, and a radio is quietly playing from somewhere.

There are four people here other than the cook, seeming more like friends hanging out than customers (an accurate impression). In one booth, two men in their late teens or maybe early twenties are playing cards. A younger teen, his braided hair under a backwards baseball cap, sits on a stool, his arms folded on the counter and head resting on top of them. And in the back, leaning against the frame of a door which must lead to a back room, is Brandon. Sporting a brown vest over a black tank top and a particularly shaggy haircut, he can't yet be twenty himself. He's watching the card game with clear amusement.]

Jolice. [The boy at the counter sighs.] How much longer is it going to be?

[The cook laughs, flipping a burger.] It hasn't even been five minutes, Kenny.

Well, I'm hungry. [Kenny points out reasonably.]

[At the table, the blond leans back in his seat and pushes a stack of torn bits of paper, doing the job of chips, forward.] I raise.

[The young man wearing a white suit jacket sighs theatrically as he sets his hand down on the table.] Fold.

[The blond, evidently both taken aback and not very good at poker, lets out a] Huh?

[Suit jacket smiles, leaning forward to rest his chin on a hand.] You still can't bluff, Nathan. Besides, my hand was terrible. Right, Brandon? [He doesn't even bother looking over his shoulder to confirm that Brandon was watching.

Brandon, smiling, nods. The blond crosses his arms with a hmph.

Over at the counter, Kenny has straightened up, grinning, as he's watched Jolice assemble a cheeseburger.] Aha! Thanks, Jolice!

[And, after a fuzzy moment of red-tinged static, that's it.]

[darkov]

[Martin has no idea why Brandon would send him something like this. he doesn't know this diner. he doesn't know these people. the voice -- there's a voice in the mix that might be Brandon? but he's not sure. he's not heard that tone before.

all these strangers...

he has to call.]

...Brandon? Why did you show me this...?

[codeofiron]

[A call from Martin? That's unexpected.]

...Show you what?

[darkov]

[a long pause.]

...Um. [was he wrong??] I, I don't know. [he must've been wrong.] Some...some video. [of course he's wrong; it's Brandon!] Something about a, uh...Nathan? Jolene? I think? Sorry. It might not have been you...

[codeofiron]

...Jolice.

[Kenny, Nathan, and Jolice. Another memory sent out to people without him knowing, or being able to track it. He wouldn't have wanted to bother Martin.]

From my world.

[darkov]

[yes, that name sounds right. he'd play the video back, but that'd probably hang up on Brandon. boy, he's not good at this phone-thing.

...actually...]

Do you want to come over? And see it?

[codeofiron]

[He hesitates, for a moment. He doesn't want to put too much on Martin.

(Brandon doesn't even have a picture of them, here.)]

...Is that okay?

[darkov]

[without missing a beat:] Yessir. [beat.] I mean...they're your thoughts to begin with, right?

[codeofiron]

[Well, yes, but-] I don't want to bother you.

[darkov]

You don't bother me. You're good.