wontgraham: (Default)
ᴡɪʟʟ ɢʀᴀʜᴀᴍ; ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ p̶r̶o̶f̶i̶l̶e̶r̶ ([personal profile] wontgraham) wrote in [community profile] wasteyard 2019-06-04 05:32 pm (UTC)

[ Will finally pries the button of his own radio free once again – it had stuck itself tenuously into ’talk’ and had seemed reluctant to let go reliably since the fall. It comes free with a little snap and renewed static is all that greets Will.

So far, Will hasn’t spared a lot of time for feeling sorry for himself. He’s been too concerned with finding his next meal, finding his next human contact, and exploring any piece of the scenery that actually stays static long enough to handle something approaching study. Now, however, he's teetering dangerously close to exactly that.

And then, while he’s still holding it in his hands, Will’s radio contains a human voice. He stares at it like it’s a face, listening to the uncertain – desperate? – cadence of it. New to Will’s ears. He hasn’t met this person yet, then.

He hits the talk button again as soon as there’s a change in the static coming from it, signaling the other might have let go.
] Yes. [ The first word is a desperate burst, too relieved to contain in Will’s chest without feeling like it’ll break a rib or two.

Which just paves the way for the drier commentary to follow it.
] Don’t think I’m going anywhere soon.

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