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“You get to see Ruby?” I questioned with a judgemental stare.
He opened one of his eyes slightly to take in my slight disappointment.
“Not since we were at Mount Marcy,” he confessed. “Ruby isn’t the type who shows up planned. She appears when she feels like it.”
“Doesn’t that get in the way of appointments?” Saint inquired, clearly on hold on the phone as he seemed to be trying to find a comfortable spot on the floor.
“She purposely schedules stuff all over the place before an appointment, so if she shows up, it means she allowed herself the privilege while ruining her other plans.”
“Brilliant,” I muttered. “Make it seem like you’re busy but you’re not. Motivational.”
“Hopefully you’ll get to see Ruby and your mom by the new year,” Saint said.
“It would be appreciated on many levels,” I admitted. “I’m tired of this guessing game patience nonsense. I wanna know what I’m dealing with and not constantly beat around the bush over things I deserve to know about.”
“That’s true,” Loki admitted. “But if they’re keeping things on the down-low, they definitely have a reason.”
“If only we could figure out what that reason is,” Saint admitted.
“Are you still on hold?” I inquired.
“Sadly.”
“Don’t you get some special extension or something?” Loki inquired.
“No,” Saint huffed and pouted his lips. “Fuck. That’s a brilliant idea. Why didn’t I think of that? I deserve an extension. As a sinful being, I deserve to be worshipped through the phone. What if I made myself my own hotline? Saint Be Praying Hotline.”
“More like Saint Be Playing Hotline. Special price if you twirl on a pole straight to hell,” I summed up which made Loki chuckle and Dimitris smirk at my dull comment.
“First off,” Saint reasoned, “there is a pole that takes you straight to hell.”
“Oh?” I questioned as if I were actually intrigued.
“Yes,” Saint emphasized. “Except since it’s hell, if you take that route, you’re going down that pole for all eternity.”
“Ouch.” I cringed at the thought.
“Motion sickness for eternity. What a way to suffer,” Loki commented as he closed his eyes. “Guess Gravol can’t do shit.”
“Gra- what?” Saint asked.
“It’s a Canadian drug that helps stop vomiting,” I revealed. “We’re finally moving. Jeez.”
“Hmm. Wait time to get through the mainline is fifteen minutes. How ironic,” Saint complained.
“I guess we’re not the only ones stuck in this traffic madness. We’re lucky it isn’t snowing.”
“No snow for Christmas,” Saint said and sighed. “Your wolf is going to be hyper as fuck when we get snow.”
“Bria isn’t hyper,” I noted.
“You can’t say that when you go on a rolling, rubbing, frolicking rampage when you’re in your wolf form,” Saint reasoned. “And you ignore Dimitris’s commands.”
“On purpose,” I stated with a shrug.
The scowling man in question paused to look over to me, and I simply looked out the window.
“I said what I said,” I added without a hint of remorse.
