001: voice

[buttonedup]

( It's taken Cassandra a great deal of trial-and-error to be able to use the communicator at all. It sits awkwardly in her hands, as if mocking her ineptitude. The thought of people being able to see her face, from a distance, is frankly unnerving, so she quickly discounts the video option. Writing is bad enough when it's ink on paper, so that leaves her with one option she understands, really: voice communication. There are items in Thedas that have a similar function, Cassandra knows, but usually they're not so... bright. And rectangular.

Now, she knows, she is just procrastinating, and she is not the type of woman who likes to waste time. She flicks the audio function, like she'd been taught, and scowls at the device as if she expects it to stare back. )

I do not like this.

( A moment later, it's as though she's just realised she's already turned pressed the button. )

Oh! It's...on?

( Of course it is. And everyone has heard her confusion. Why did anyone think this form of communication was a good idea again? She does her best to gather both her composure and her thoughts. She starts to talk in a clipped staccato: )

I shall be brief. I am not familiar with this technology. Obviously. I was merely wondering if anyone else here is from a world similar to my own. I would like to hear your experiences, if you would share them.

( And she ends the call there partly because she's not sure what else to say but mostly because she's still not convinced that this actually worked. )

Comments

[buttonedup]

( Unfortunately for him, Cassandra doesn't quite understand all of the words he'd used. After a frustrated sigh, she says: )

I don't follow.

[sleight_of_hand]

What don't you follow? You being paranoid? That's when you look for an excuse to be suspicious about everything.

[buttonedup]

( She snorts. )

I do know what 'paranoid' means, by the way. What was difficult to follow was you tracing your food from -- the factory, did you say?

[sleight_of_hand]

Eh... factory, distribution plant, whatever you want to call it.

[ Mr. Totally Not Helpful right here. ]

[buttonedup]

( The sound of a hand thumping against a table might sound slightly louder than it should over the communicator. )

Not all food comes from plants.

[sleight_of_hand]

...eh?

[ And here he is, genuinely not having a clue why she's getting upset over that. ]

Uh... of course they don't?

[ A pause. ]

...don't they have health concerns and food regulations where you're from?

[buttonedup]

There are certain taxes when it comes to the import and export of goods, of course, but it has never been a major concern of mine. Why do you ask?

[sleight_of_hand]

I'm not talking about taxes. I'm talking about food regulations. I think America calls it FDA or something.

[ ...yeah, he's figured out she has no idea what he's talking about. That's part of the fun. ]

[buttonedup]

( Insistently: )

Taxes are a form of regulation. What sort of regulations are you speaking of?

[sleight_of_hand]

[ God, this is hilarious. ]

Health regulations. Aren't you paying attention?

[buttonedup]

( She snorts. ) Obviously, my world has no such thing.

[sleight_of_hand]

Yeah, kinda got that impression.

[buttonedup]

And that is why I am accustomed to being careful.

[sleight_of_hand]

And I'm saying that's not something to worry about any more. 'Ya understand now, Pumpqueen?

[buttonedup]

It is no issue of mine if you choose not to worry about it.

( A beat. )

Don't call me that.

[sleight_of_hand]

You're the one making it an issue, Pumpqueen.

[ Nope. Permanent nickname. Besides, he already forgot her real name. ]

[buttonedup]

( wow it's right there on the magical device. )

And how exactly am I making it an issue?

[sleight_of_hand]

The fact that you're still fussing over a drink kinda means you're still making it an issue.

[buttonedup]

It was a warning for your benefit. Heed it or not, I no longer care.