BLU Sniper || Mason Mundy (
bye_to_yer_head) wrote in
mayfield_rpg2012-10-21 02:03 pm
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Entry tags:
7th Headshot || Phone Call to All
Is anyone .. hn... uhm... is everyone else feelin' a mite... like... Mayfield is ...
*Long pause.*
Somethin' ain't ri---...... Nevermind.
*Long pause.*
Somethin' ain't ri---...... Nevermind.
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You too? I don't -- Maybe I should have laid off the margaritas last night. That's gotta be it.
[Clearly, it's just got to be the drinking. ...Right?]
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I've drunk more than this an' it never ended up with me thinking that ..
*Mayfield was wonderful? No that wasn't it. Or was it? Mayfield was pretty nice though.*
Bloody hell..
I feel loike I got hit with a train.
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[Mayfield is nice! Her children are wonderful! She has a great husband! What more can you want in a town?]
Aspirin. Maybe aspirin will help? It's probably just a headache, something in the air like allergies. I don't know.
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*He audibly gasped and winced, the headache getting even worse, those thoughts of happy, cheerful Mayfield getting even stronger.*
Yeah. Aspirin. Something. Least it ain't just me.
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[It hurts like a son of a bitch, but she presses through it.]
This is all wrong.
[She feels like if she holds on to those faint inklings of some far off place that she'll be able to grasp them, but they seem to remain elusive, the Mayfield thoughts bearing down.]
...Okay. Aspirin. Yeah. But no, you're not... You're not alone.
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Strewth mate. I hope this is like everything else and wears off in a few days.
S'like they .. want us to ... forget.
*About the things he was already having trouble remembering. This was not going well at all. He rubbed his pounding head, leaning against the wall by the phone.*
I'd rather I had just drunk a whole lot.
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[It's a good thing she's already sitting down.]
Saints, what is it that they want us to -- wait. Did I just say that? 'Saints?'
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Great, it's already affectin' us.
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[And that's when the headache becomes too much and she nearly drops the phone.]
I need to lay down. I can't... If you hear something else, let me know, yeah?
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*He hangs up, leaning against the wall to try and clear his head. But the more he tries to focus, the worse it gets.*
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I don't ... like ... something about back home is....
*Time to lean against the wall by the phone and rub his pounding head.*
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Somethin' is ... is ....
Strewth.
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*At least when he talked about things that weren't Mayfield, it sort of got better.*
I don't know what it is, but I can't wait for it t' be done with.
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I know mate. Happening to me too.
*And boy was his head killing him.*
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You at th' bar?
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*Taking in what a beautiful day it is in Mayfield. Gosh, it sure is nice to live here, and boy his house looks great since he mowed the lawn.*