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

[inventor]

( there's silence on the response back. then the distinct sound of a laugh being muffled by an object before, finally, a loud, howling guffaw that goes on for a solid minute. the laughter dies away in to snorts. a weak voice responds, ) Oh my god.

( guess who? )

[royalpassport]

[ WHY. GO AWAY. HE HATES YOU. ]

Don't you have a shop to mismanage?

[ Don't you have a shop, too, Jefferson? Pot. Kettle. Blah blah. ]

[inventor]

I'm multitasking. ( unlike jeff, who can only focus on being a whiny little baby.

this is more important, anyway. ) What's your type? The lonely and desperate? Recently released convicts who haven't touched anyone in over a decade? The blind and deaf who are looking for a charitable deduction for their taxes? The recently deceased?

( what is he working with? )

[royalpassport]

'My type'?

[ Is he seriously--

Oh god. ]

Smarmy idiots who need a shave, apparently.

[inventor]

( "is he seriously — oh god": title of howard's sex tape.

there's a chuckle in his voice. ) Sorry pal. I'm not interested.

( jeff broke his heart once. he can't bare to go through — hahahaha ok, howard can't keep a straight face while even thinking it )

[royalpassport]

However will I move on.

[ Yeah, doesn't he just sound so heartbroken? ]

I don't know what I ever saw in you. [ No, really, he doesn't. His memories are a mess. ] Really, it's one of life's great mysteries.

[inventor]

( hopefully with some dignity, jeff. you're already cramping his style.

yes, focusing on insulting jeff will enable him to ignore the fact that he doesn't remember anything from the supposed past relationship — nothing from his past period. )

Yeah, how did a catch like me ever end up with lame fathead like you? Get Sherlock Holmes on the line, he's got a mystery to solve.

[royalpassport]

As I recall, I was the one who ended things with you, you know.

[ Not really. He doesn't remember who ended it, though he can easily imagine the why. But what he does know is that his scant memories are a hell of a lot more than Howard's got right now. So he might as well have fun with it. ]

But you do like to talk big for a man who cried on my shoulder for two hours when I ended things.

[inventor]

( there's a brief pause on his end for barely a second as he quickly regroups. it's hard to know what's real and what's not. he doesn't know anything and, lately, it's been frustrating him to the point that he wants to crawl in to a bottle and lay there until the memories filter back or he drowns. certainly doesn't help that his one source of memories to his past life is a dickhead who finds more pleasure in torturing him than actually helping him.

what has howard done to deserve this kind of treatment? honestly?

but those are concerns for another day, another time. when jeff doesn't need to be taken down a notch. a smirk twists at howard's mouth and he adjusts the phone to his ear. there's enough biting sarcasm in his voice that even a fathead like jeff should be able to catch the true meaning behind his words. ) Oh baby, you could always see right through me, couldn't you? How could I not cry over the loss of touching your lovely baby smooth skin, — ( which explains howard's constant urge to diaper his face. ) — your lips, which are like raspberries, and those eyes — oh god blue like the Mediterranean? Do you — ( bubbling laughter cuts him off. in fact, for the next thirty seconds, he'll be laughing too hard to hear anything jeff says. )