1: going a little mad

[royalpassport]

[ Look, Jefferson hasn't really left the house much since he stumbled back from the hospital five days ago. The few things he remembers unnerve him, and he can't distinguish them from the fake memories that have become far more prominent in his mind-- being more grounded and 'realistic' than his actual life. So he just been staying inside, being a pill at Howard, and hiding in the safe familiarity of his home. With no company but the idiot amnesiac he thinks is his not-so-amicable ex.

Which is why he sounds so on edge when he records this message: ]

I could use someone to talk to. [ Pause, then an emphatic: ] Not How-- my... housemate. Who left wet towels on the bathroom floor and still won't fix the toaster he broke!

[ He lets out a frustrated breath. ]

Maybe I need more than a conversation.

Company. Company would be nice. I'll even pour you a drink.

[ So, it's not a booty call to the network, but it could be misinterpreted as one to any trolls out there. He's just lonely!

ANYWAY. Click. ]

Comments

late, late late.

[unforgivably]

[ Rule. When the phone rings, answer it.

Well, he hasn't even gotten a word in, edge-wise yet. This guy is the definition of stir-crazy. Then again, Damon's a vampire stuck inside. He's going his own version of stir-crazy. ]

Drink's not necessary. As for company, I'm in the middle of something right now. Talking, I can do. I have no real memories to pull from when it comes to messy roommates. I live with my brother and he is meticulously clean. And, so am I. So, sorry you don't live with us?

[royalpassport]

[ If he were face-to-face with Damon right now, the sight of him might trigger a memory-- one more for the growing pile about life in Wayward Pines. Instead, he just hears a voice, one that's at least friendly enough that it'll do.

He lets out a soft, short laugh that's more than a little bitter. ]

I don't suppose you're taking in any extra roommates right now.

[ It's a joke. A FLAT, UNHAPPY JOKE FROM A MISERABLE SHUT-IN. ]

Though to be honest, I'd rather live alone.

[ He knows it's wrong the moment he says it. The word-- alone-- brings back a familiar ache of loss, of a daughter who may or may not exist. ]

[unforgivably]

I wouldn't even know if we were. But, we're full up on beds tonight. [ They're not, but you're a voice, sir. ]

Who knows what's stopping you. [ The desire comes and goes. Mostly goes. Elena. Even Stefan. Bonnie. He doesn't admit it out loud, but he likes when he doesn't live alone. He even prefers it. ] If they even are. How'd he break the toaster?