TLV: IC Inbox

[statementfuckingends]

You've reached Timothy Stoker, leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you.

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Comments

[statementfuckingends]

Seems to me you would if I asked, since it'd give you literally anything at all to do.

[Gently ignore the lack of actual money problem.]

[mrballisticsdummy]

I was going to make something for someone. It didn't have to be you. I have three whole other friends who don't give me nearly as much shit as you do.

[statementfuckingends]

So two, if you exclude Kepler, one if you don't count Jon since he is, professionally speaking, a crying shame.

Maybe that should be your first task, then. Make some bloody friends.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[The longest and most annoyed sigh.]

Tell me exactly how that's going to help me.

[statementfuckingends]

Look, we both know this place is just a bloody extended season of Survivor. A popularity contest with bits of genuine murder thrown in for good measure. I'm not saying start whoring yourself out over it, but having more than four votes in your corner isn't going to hurt anything.

Honestly, I'm not even saying do it now. Just start taking it under advisement.

[mrballisticsdummy]

Yes, sir.

[statementfuckingends]

You do know I can track you with the walkie talkie, right?

Food for thought.

[mrballisticsdummy]

Baby, I have a tracker in my shoulder and one in my leg. People have been tracking me for years. You want to find me, come find me.