Accentuate the Accent

Well Did That Work?

You had uneventfully gone throughout the week after contacting your landlady in hopes of another extension. She had not answered, and her secretary did not appeal to leaving messages. Both were either an extremely lazy duo, or they just hated their jobs. This, of course, meant it was more work and more stress on your end. You wanted to move out and start up somewhere new, but the likely hood of surviving until November 1st without pulling a few strands of hair was very unlikely.

You sighed and flopped around on your bed. You struggled to get your blanket from curling around your fleece sweater as you flopped. Curse the effects of fleece and cotton. You refused to entertain the idea of watching television. You were also nice and bundled up in layers of pajamas just so you wouldn't need to turn on the heat.

Your idea of saving up was to just not go anywhere; it sated the need for spending. At home was no different. Don't use anything that appeals to you, and it probably won't cost as much to use it. You sighed and flopped one more time.

You flinched at the resounding thud that came from the new tenants next door. You swore they moved in the last of their things the week prior, but all the shuffling, loud curses and other moving sounds say otherwise. You had spent most of the time ignoring them, or checking emails on your laptop.

Speaking of which... No one had given you proper reponses in emails; you honestly didn't know what you were expecting from them anymore. Seemed no one else needed your kind of criteria. Though a hard worker, and beyond efficient, trying to hire when the holidays were fast and approaching didn't really make sense anyhow.

You stared at your phone, with that white slip of paper underneath it on your bed-side stand. You've held off for almost an entire week without going to Ampora for assistance. Just... why?? You tried wracking the idea around in your head and it just didn't make sense.

Not only had you been kinda rude to him before, but you're possibly an ally in pushing him to fire Shelly. Secondly, you literally spoke to him on two very separate days, not including the odd coffee meet. Thirdly, the best thing you could do at the moment is let something run its course.

But what?

Should you pick up the phone and call? Or text him for safe measures? What if he was working and you bothered him and possibly got him in trouble? You shook your head furiously against the pillow's case and you groaned.

You've had this heaviness on your conscious since he gave you his number. Ahem, you mutter. Business card. Your stomach did flips whenever you peered at that white smaller-than-usual index card. You didn't ask for these conflicting emotions either. Ever since he opened his mouth to speak you had these flipping moments in your stomach.

It was a blessing and a curse.

You barely knew of him, yet he was the most intricate figure to bring light to the same boring routine you'd been accustomed to. All that time working was beyond repetitive, beyond boring... On a seemingly terrible day, he shows up and just EXISTS.

You grumbled how you shouldn't bother yourself like this; that stupid hopeless romantic in you was fighting, however. With a firm slap to your bed, you rose and growled.

"Screw this!! All or nothing!" You snagged up your phone and the paper and dialed up his number. You weren't so much nervous as you were anxiously confused. Damn it...

It rang four times and went to voicemail. You decided to leave a quick, harmless message.

"It's ___, sorry if I'm bothering you. Um. Sorry I waited so long? The jobs haven't been plenty. Why would you want me to have your number though? I mean, um, not just your number! You're email is here too but, what I meant was--!"

"Beeeeep." And the dial tone graced your ear. You stared at the phone in disdain. You sounded like a bumbling idiot. Great. Beautiful. You dropped the phone onto your bed, and flung the card somewhere about your room.

You were hungry; and you would feed yourself while watching television with the heat on. You would make sure to spam call your landlady as well. Anything to make this embarrassment go away, you were willing to try it.

A few hours later, your phone is pulling you from sleep with its cry of attention. You stagger up from the warm nook in the couch and sigh. "I'm coming, shut up...!"

You had to kick around the layers you had shed earlier to reach the bed, but that was fine. Laundry wasn't going to happen without some dirty clothes to wash. Thinking of doing laundry was both a pain in your mind and in your wallet. All you seemed to be doing today was sighing.

The caller ID was one you hadn't realized, but when you picked up and muttered a hello, something that happened earlier today clicked.

"Ya don't know much 'bout leavin' voicemail's, do ya, lass?"

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  - I'm sorry if it's really short. I'm pushing myself to get something out today. This seems filler-y and I apologize, more dialogue between reader and Dualscar in the near future. Also, I have a surprise next chap so don't worry. Update will probably come through tonight at midnight eastern. -    ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)