IC CONTACT POST

[uberboned]

[A woman's voice comes over the line.]

You've reached the Trickster's voicemail. Unfortunately, Mr. Trickster isn't available to take your call, nor will he likely ever be. Should you still wish to leave a message, please respond after the tone, and maybe we'll remember to get it to him, mmkay?

[Beep]

[[OOC: This is an IC voicemail post for all verses games. Please put the name of the verse/game you want in the subject heading.]]

Comments

voice;

[paterelohim]

Oh, yeah. Yeah, cool. This is kind of a vodka conversation anyway, don't you think?

voice;

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

...Yeah, Chuck. I think.

[BAM. ANGEL IN THE HOUSE... And rifling in the gifts for the vodka.] You should know, I think Sam's on drugs... and not the usual drugs. The other kind.

voice;

[paterelohim]

[Hanging up the NV now, thanks, and gesturing at the big cabinet right over there.]

That's the bar.

[Cough.] You- you mean, uh, street drugs? Like a normal person?

That's... unexpected. [He isn't the best liar in the world. Sam totally told him.]

voice;

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

I knew that. [He was testing you. Hello, cabinet. Lovely to meet you- ah, there's Mr. Vodka.] Well, he's definitely not picking the meth scabs off Lucifer for a demon blood buzz.

voice;

[paterelohim]

I- I don't even know what you're saying half the time.

But- uh, yeah. He...

Yep. [There's not the hell much you can say to that. Sam can't not be on drugs. They both saw the post. He is a Darkness tiger, indeed.]

voice;

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

Those are actually good odds. [He takes a swig straight from the bottle and then thrusts it at Chuck's chest. Pain is good for you, Chuck. Always.] Yeah, riding my ass was actually one of the saner things he did and that's saying something.

voice;

[paterelohim]

[Chuck takes the bottle out of- habit, really, then just sort of stares at it.]

Well, you know, by that criteria you could say that Dean's on drugs, too.

But. Man. I gotta wonder if Lucifer saw it, right?

voice;

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

No, Dean just doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Sam may be the dysfunctional one, but he doesn't usually shoot off his yap that much. It harshes his manly pouting. [He plops down on a chair.]

You actually have to wonder? Wow. Didn't see that optimism coming.

voice;

[paterelohim]

Dean's plenty dysfunctional! [What is this argument.]

Well. [Drums his fingers against the still undrunk-from bottle.] He doesn't reply to everything. Man, Lucifer and Sam while high... I feel like I need a shower just thinking about it.

voice;

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

They're both in desperate need of help. What's your point? [He spreads his arms and finally reaches over to grab the alcohol from Chuck. Well. Waste not, want not. His sense of relaxation has been waylaid.]

It oughta worry anyone. If Sam's melon's on the fritz, he'd probably say yes to Lucifer giving him a happy ending, much less to consenting to being his vessel.

[paterelohim]

[Cringe.]

Thanks. Thanks for that. I feel enriched.

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

Considering Sam keeps thinking I threw you under Lucifer's station wagon, it's about time you got that way on this subject. It's bad, Chuck. Really bad.

[paterelohim]

Couldn't we have this conversation without talking about Lucifer and dicks, though? Come on. I'm still traumatized. [Sob making deals. ._. ]

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

No, it's my way of telling you that you're a moron for letting Lucifer suck face with you.

[paterelohim]

Speak English next time.

[Sinking a little lower into his wheelchair.]

I still don't regret it.

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

You're not the one getting blamed for it. I regret it, just because Sam won't stop riding my ass about it and it's starting to chafe.

[paterelohim]

[The driest. look.]

I feel so bad for you.

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

What? You made your bed. No one asked you to intervene. Not that I don't appreciate it, but when it gets written down as my fault in the Winchester Gospel because of your ghost writers? That's when I'm gonna get pissed.

[paterelohim]

But if I hadn't, Jinx would be dead. I saved half the the city from an archangel slapfight, so- whatever. Sam can bite me. He's never gonna like you, no matter what.

Since when do you care so much about reputation?

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

I don't care about reputation. I care about not getting stabbed or worse, because Sam went off the deep end. He's friends with Jinx, Chuck. And you know that kid ain't well.

[paterelohim]

I can manage the Winchesters better than you think.

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

Winchester. Singular. If Dean were here, Sam wouldn't be a problem.

[paterelohim]

Yeah, I know.

Gabriel, I know enough about Sam to psych him out pretty easily. If you can keep from antagonizing him when he's sober enough to remember it, then you'll be... fine.

[painhumbles.livejournal.com]

It's not me I'm worried about.

[paterelohim]

Sam won't need much convincing to lay off of a kid that everyone thinks is a monster through no fault of its own. Trust me. That'll do you for a good five months, right? Yeah, and as for her- look, all someone has to do is put it in terms he'll understand. If framed like that, then hurting her wouldn't really be an option.