[network] @ASolomons; audio, afternoon of 347 [open]

[devoutish]

[The recording starts up and Alfie says in a rough, no-nonsense voice:]

Where are you? You're alive?

[There's a brief pause, and then he continues, his tone markedly different - it's a bit softer, but also more tired. Less guarded.]

Where are you? I'm in one of the newer areas; I'm in a funeral home I've never been in. Fucking cultist markings all over the walls-- answer as soon as you can, mate; please.

[Another pause, and then:]

Hello.

[He almost sing-songs his words, but only enough to just barely hide the hardness that lurks underneath.]

Do you know who I am?

[Once upon a time, this disjointed, confusing post was several separate messages. Unfortunately for Alfie, once he hit send, all privacy filters were removed - a consequence of his current death loss. For a guy who prefers private conversations over public ones by a large margin, this will not be fun.]

Comments

audio

[quadrangle]

It'd have to be the grocery store, right? The rest of the food here is shit.

audio

[devoutish]

I think there's a spot or two in the new areas with different sorts of food.

[He's not positive of that, though. He's a little out of touch.]

audio

[quadrangle]

Yeah, but we're still basically fucked when it comes to getting anything served hot.

[Which is... okay, it could be worse, but like the cold, it wears on him. Everything about this place does.]