[ The answering voice is a pitch that medium-throated Nash couldn't dream of hitting, regardless of the octaves her voice can climb in Customer Service Mode. "Hi! You've reached Nash's phone. May I ask who this is?"
A pause. Beyond the bubbly voice occupying the speaker — faint words, unintelligible. A few shouts. The bachelors are enjoying their party.
"Actually, she'll call you back tomorrow—" click.
There isn't a call. She's hungover within an inch of her life, not rousing until the early afternoon and spending a good portion of it hunched over a certain porcelain apparatus. Eventually, there is a text — ]
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no subject
The ringing starts. It stops before he can answer. The confusion only deepens.
So he calls her back. Because he's worried. )
no subject
A pause. Beyond the bubbly voice occupying the speaker — faint words, unintelligible. A few shouts. The bachelors are enjoying their party.
"Actually, she'll call you back tomorrow—" click.
There isn't a call. She's hungover within an inch of her life, not rousing until the early afternoon and spending a good portion of it hunched over a certain porcelain apparatus. Eventually, there is a text — ]
Sorry.
Crazy night.
Talk to you later.