text; un: cherry

[devilsheel]

[ things are wonky. lights aren’t working as they should, they flicker from time to time. everything is … obviously not as it should be. and the same could be said for her, though she’s alone in her cabin on the third floor. ]

Prometheus? Pandorum? Sunshine? Any of those sound familiar to anyone here? Usually when people end up in space, things get bad. Like. Bad.

Comments

[dealwiththe]

[ Hmm. Interesting response, as if they know him. S q u i n t. ]

How is what possible? Me? That’s a bit flattering even for my ego, but then again I was crafted directly by the hand of God.

Or do you mean how is it possible to be here, in space? That, I couldn’t tell you. I just got here myself, direct from Hell.

videooooooo

[devilsheel]

Hell

[ but that’s all she sends via text anyway before the connection changes to video and there she is, her smile small and quite possibly trembling because — how?

chloe ignores the burn of tears threatening and raises a hand in a wordless greeting. that’s all she can manage. ]

[dealwiththe]

[ All it takes is one glimpse of her face, and Lucifer looks as if he’s been struck by lightning. The cockiness, the self-effacing grin, the whole attitude is gone in an instant, like it was never there.

He looks shattered. ]

Detective.

[ He breathes the word like a prayer, nearly drops his device in his haste to get up. He can’t talk to her like this. He has to see her, touch her, smell her. ]

Wh - where are you?

[devilsheel]

[ she can be seen and heard letting out an unsteady exhale. her mouth opens to reply, and then it closes.

there’s a faint sniffle. her head ducks. she hastily wipes her fingers under an eye and gets to typing, bottom lip caught between her teeth. ]

310.

[dealwiththe]

[ He looks briefly confused, but his questions will wait. Until he’s found her.

So he simply notes the room number and then he’s off, dropping his device for real this time. ]