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[sickbastard]

make it interestin', will ya?

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— text, post-recumita (late november/early december).

[ghostface]

( surprise, a mysterious caller has your number. danny doesn't introduce himself, but his psychic signature will feel distinctly familiar, if johnny's managed to get a hang of this psychic game of telephone by now. this particular signature belongs to the same guy he fucked to filth against a tree in the woods. )

i never got your name.

voice

[sickbastard]

[ well, that's new—but the signature that feels like blood in his teeth ain't. he's got a fair understanding of how this psychic bullshit works, not quite enough of one to respond with anything less than his voice: ]

Hey there, sweet thing.

[ghostface]

hey, gorgeous. how's that side of yours doing?

( the side he stabbed. )

[sickbastard]

Real thoughtful of you to ask.

You wanna finger me, or somethin'?

[ghostface]

i mostly wanted you to tell me your name, johnny.

( surprise, though. he's already got it. )

[sickbastard]

You gonna—

give me yours?

[ almost there. ]

[ghostface]

good boy. (:

( knew you could do it. )

it's danny. i hope you've been keeping out of trouble.

[sickbastard]

[ stroke his praise kink, why don't you. ]

always

[ghostface]

you sure? didn't look like it at the festival.

[sickbastard]

you watching me, darling?

[ ]

i'm watching you too

[ghostface]

you ain't watching me how i'm watching you, i bet. you've been a busy boy. busy little liar. busy little pretender except when you aren't.

[sickbastard]

takes one to know one, don't it?

awfully nice place you got with that quentin kid. he seems.
soft.

[ pliable. breakable. ]

[ghostface]

only if you haven't seen him at his best.

( and danny has, repeatedly. )

i fuck with you, johnny. you remind me of home. anyone else, i wouldn't give this courtesy, so take it to heart: that one is mine. he's a pet project in process.

[sickbastard]

[ his laugh comes through the connection, loud, unhinged. ]

don't gotta worry about me. i only got eyes for you.

[ for now. ]

[ghostface]

now i know that's bullshit.

[sickbastard]

[ read. ]

— text, january 4th.

[ghostface]

( following this little number: )

you know my deal now. i wanna know yours.

[sickbastard]

the fuck kinda name is ghostface?

[ghostface]

it's a moniker. you ain't got one?

[sickbastard]

nah, i don't go hiding behind masks either.

[ghostface]

( oh, okay, cunt. )

your loss. the mystery is half the eroticism.

[sickbastard]

big fucking mystery now, ain't it.

[ghostface]

i didn't say it was all of the appeal.

now who the fuck are you?

[sickbastard]

you know me better than anyone here.

we ain't all that different, far as i can tell.

[ mask and moniker aside. ]

[ghostface]

( oh, don't tell him that. that's dangerous. )

you are wearing a mask, you know. it's the same mask i wore for six months.

[sickbastard]

shit, did i hurt your feelings?

[ghostface]

if you did, i'd be sucking your dick right now.