This was difficult. And it got longer than I intended. I considered using Rick instead of Steve, but I wanted to use blood and Rick just doesn't seem the type to call Emily in the middle of the night because he's scared.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, actually. Beyblade belongs to...whoever, and the idea is actually xChewy's.
The Things I Do For You
Whoever's calling me at 2:15 in the morning on a Saturday had better have one spectacular excuse.
"Em?"
I have to resist the urge to snap my laptop in half with my forehead. "Steve, you are really lucky I'm still up, or I would kill you. What the hell do you want?"
"I... I did something really bad, and I..."
"Are you...drunk?"
He hiccups. "I-I'm... No, I'm... Yeah, a little."
"What did you do." I close my laptop and set it on the bag beside my desk at the PPB.
"I-It wasn't my fault, Em! He-- He said she was a-- and I got mad, and I-- And there was--"
I kick my feet up on the desk and blow my hair out of my eyes. "Steve."
"Y-yeah?"
"Calm down, you'll start hyperventilating."
Silence--knowing Steve's minuscule cerebral capabilities like I do, he's probably nodding in agreement, completely forgetting the fact that we're on the phone and I can't actually see him.
"Steve, I can't see you."
"Right, sorry."
Hah. I win.
"Where are you?"
"Chinatown."
"Oh, god."
He hiccups again.
"What street."
"...Pearl Street?"
"Stay put. I'm coming. ...But if you see police, run. I don't know what you did, but I bet it was illegal."
"O-okay."
Hanging up, I set my cell phone calmly on the desk, and with just as much poise and patience, ram my head into the Formica surface.
This is going to be a long night.
Blaaaaahblahblahblah. This will probably be about four chapters. Or so. Idk. =/
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