( Ben's brick of a phone chimes in a way that a furby sounds running on a low battery. Ben curses in a hiss under his breath as he grasps for the thing out of his briefcase, ducked down in a twisted-looking lobby (literally, as if cork-screwed.) 'what?' he whispers to himself, reading the name, the message, passing an internal ruling that this exchange has already registered as 'ominous' on his radar. )
Who is this? ( jesus wept, Ben hasn't had to text on a number pad in years, and he certainly didn't miss it. )
They look like - well. Shadows. Humanoid - more or less - but not always. ( damn thing doesn't have commas, illiterate and prehistoric garbage. the worst part is, Ben has no idea that he even has a contact handle, yet, much less what it is. )
@xXxSALTLICKERxXx
Who is this? ( jesus wept, Ben hasn't had to text on a number pad in years, and he certainly didn't miss it. )
They look like - well. Shadows. Humanoid - more or less - but not always. ( damn thing doesn't have commas, illiterate and prehistoric garbage. the worst part is, Ben has no idea that he even has a contact handle, yet, much less what it is. )