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Audio. 03
[There's a long scuffle after the post switches on. Some heavy breathing may or may not be involved, the shifting of fabric- blankets, maybe?- across skin. Unfortunately for any voyeurs out there, it's not the sound of anything uncouth happening, but rather the grunts and scrapes of a struggle.]
-shit. [Definitely Ronan's voice, slightly far off. The audio goes muffled as something wraps over the speaker, before the phone of sorts gets tossed up, closer to his face.]
Fuck's sake. [It's on and it's near enough that he can talk into it. That's all that really matters. On the other hand...]
Hello? Look- if anyone can just- fuckin-
[He grunts again, half frustrated, half embarrassed.]
If you know where we live, come- give me a hand or whatever. Parrish lost his fucking mind and I can't- [a long creak, of wood and leather straining against one another] -ow, fuck.
-shit. [Definitely Ronan's voice, slightly far off. The audio goes muffled as something wraps over the speaker, before the phone of sorts gets tossed up, closer to his face.]
Fuck's sake. [It's on and it's near enough that he can talk into it. That's all that really matters. On the other hand...]
Hello? Look- if anyone can just- fuckin-
[He grunts again, half frustrated, half embarrassed.]
If you know where we live, come- give me a hand or whatever. Parrish lost his fucking mind and I can't- [a long creak, of wood and leather straining against one another] -ow, fuck.
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[ A pause. ] He still in the house? And is he going to fucking hurt me if I play hero?
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[At least, Ronan doesn't think he is. He hasn't heard him moving around recently.]
And- christ, have you seen him? You can fucking bench press him.
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...well.
[Another beat, as he plays it out in his head, tries to find a different angle, and then sighs in defeat.]
I mean, probably.
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I can be there in, I don't know, about ten? I'd say sit and stay but... [ A chuckle. Adam went crazy and Ronan kind of has to sit and stay. ]
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[He scoffs.]
Just hurry, okay? My arms are going numb.
[And he's- shirtless, but at least he's wearing his pajama pants, even if his legs are all tangled up in the sheets. Their house is a house that two teenage boys live in and so it's not exactly clean, their room even less so.
Sharon has never been in their room before. There are reasons beyond just the social norm factor- reasons like the things that Ronan takes out of his head on an almost-nightly basis. There's a sculpture made of broken glass and paperclips over near the wall, a strange and foreign string instrument propped up on the dresser, an ornate dreamcatcher hanging from the ceiling, Chainsaw's cage of course- a single boot, a wicked-looking blade, a snowglobe that matches the one he gave Sharon so long ago, a handful of human teeth inside of a small jar. Dozens and dozens of things, overflowing almost every surface, and while it looks like there was originally an attempt to clean up somewhere, somehow, the items just kept multiplying until there was just no way to keep control of it all. It's like walking into some kind of antique pawn shop, fattened and bursting at the seams with just- everything.
The floor is at least cleared off for ease of movement and the room itself is easy to move through, as long as you're not going for any of the objects stacked and falling over one another on the insufficient shelving.]
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[ She ends the call quickly, moving between the buildings with relative ease. She reaches the house in a little under ten minutes. She tries the handle on the front and when it gives, she opens it as slowly as possible. This was definitely the home of two teenagers without adult supervision: frathouse-esque with a double spray of angst.
She steps over anything in her way as she makes her way to the bedroom. The first door is clearly not the right room and she doesn't bother to close it as she moves on to the next. By the time she's found the correct room, it's nearing the fifteen-minute mark.
Look, she's not going to get decked by Adam just so she can get decked by Ronan, it's just not in her TDL today. She pushes the door open with a soft squeak and when she sees him, she has to quickly cover her mouth to keep some giggle escaping.
She enters and shuts the door softly behind her, pressing anything heavy against it in case Adam decides her must rescue his princess. She moves over to quickly begin untangling himself from the bed, one arm, then the next. With him virutally free, she takes a look at his room. ]
I bet you he tied you up so you'd get the idea that your room is messy as fuck. [ Ah, the good old shitty friends riffs. ]
action | cw self harm
What she doesn't know about though, are the scars on his arms- the ones he usually keeps covered by the half dozen leather bands he usually wears around each wrist. They're long and jagged, clearly life threatening at one point, and Ronan remembers them a few moments too late, turning his hands inward while she works on the cords around his wrists.]
Thanks.
[He sits up once free, lowering his arms by his side for the first time in what feels like hours, wincing a little as the blood starts to flow properly again. His intricate black tattoo, more ink than skin, stretches across his shoulders when he reaches for a shirt to throw on, sulking a little as Sharon takes stock of the rest of the room.]
At least I threw out the human skulls before Parrish went full Misery on my ass. [Though he'd have loved seeing her reaction to them.] Where else am I supposed to keep all this shit, anyway?