[center][color=b59130]𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗬𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗡𝗚[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/zh5StM8.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/aX1fDIb.png[/img] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EErSKhC0CZs]♪♪[/url][/center] [indent][right][sup]In which a night shift cop from another country tries to [s]flirt[/s] accept a casual night out with a drinking buddy. [@McHaggis][/sup][/right][/indent] Lang whistled as he took his earbuds out. Louise had signed off and they had started their flashback playlist with some Daryl Hall and John Oates. Nice to hear some American music for a change. He waved to the night secretary who was just ending her shift, Aila should’ve been getting in pretty soon to take over for the day. He went and signed off his shift, taking his vest off, changing, and releasing all of his equipment before finally heading over to his locker. He found his baggy pullover hoodie and threw it on. It exposed the nape of his neck and a bit lower than his collarbone, but he always wore comfy clothes after work. Besides, he was only just remembering what the sun looks like. But that was when everything his changed. As he was about to close his locker, he heard his phone buzz from inside it. “Ah shit, close call.” He murmured to himself grabbing the phone and quickly scanning the contact it was from. But it was an unknown number. Huh. He read the first line offered in the preview of the message. His brain was only able to process the words ‘Louise and radio’ before he instinctively threw his phone at the wall. There was absolutely no reason. No sensible way to explain what he had done. He gingerly picked up the phone, looking at the screen and inspecting the damage. It had a sizeable crack in the bottom half, which made Lang inhale sharply upon seeing it. “Oh shit.” He muttered, looking behind him. The room was empty. “Oh fuck, oh fuck oh shit.” It’s fake. “Oh obviously.” Lang started to laugh a nervous laugh, it sounded less like a healthy human and more like a cat choking up a hairball. He slid his phone into his pocket, but it felt like it weighed as much as a fridge. It’s fake. He continued to get ready, grabbing a few of his things. A few other night shift officers came in, quietly greeting Lang. He just stared at them. Right into their eyes. It could have been one of them. “You good buddy?” One asked, Lang squinted at him, focusing all of his cop super powers into this stare, “a-are you okay?” The man just seemed confused, shit. “Yeah.” Lang said, grabbing the rest of his things and storming off. It’s fake. “Hey Laurel, before you head out – mind if you run a number for me?” Lang asked the secretary, looking somewhat like a junkie with the amount he was twitching. “Oh sure, Lang. What is it?” Laurel asked coolly. “Uh, yeah, it’s 2038073914,” Lang said, starting to sweat a little. Laurel’s eyes scanned the screen as her fingers nimbly inputted the number. One eyebrow raised to almost hilarious proportions before her eyes slid over to Lang. “I swear to god if you’re stalking that poor girl Lang.” It’s not fake. “Thank you!” He said taking off in a full sprint, small duffle bag in tow. He made it out the doors and continue to sprint, he made his way into the middle of the road and jumped as far as he could. He felt like a kid again. “Lang, what the fuck?” Another officer shouted out at him. “Shut up!” He called back, sprinting around the corner and taking off towards his house. By the time he made it home he closed the door behind him and threw his sweater at his bed. Staring at the text message again. “Oh my god, she makes typos.” He said quietly. She asked if I was for drinks. I am for drinks. Lang quietly pondered what to do, staring at the propped up phone sitting on his pillow. “I need help.” He quickly opened up his text messages with the only person who could help. A girl he actually knew. [center][img]https://cdn.ifaketextmessage.com/convos/2018/04/iphone-nGti.png[/img] [img]https://cdn.ifaketextmessage.com/convos/2018/04/iphone-mLti.png[/img][/center] Play it cool. Only advice Aila could have given. It made sense. She was a radio host, that was basically a short walk from being a phenomenon, a celebrity. She could’ve been expecting someone like Elvis, or other American heroes. He had to dial it up. Lang opened up the notes section of his phone so just in case she could see him typing, she wouldn’t watch him draft a good response for the next five minutes. The entirety of the time it took him to draft the thirty three word text he was beet red and felt like he was overheating. His ears especially burned with passion and embarrassment as he reread everything to make sure it didn’t sound like he had reread it 100 times. “Okay.” He said, moving back to the messaging app. [center][img]https://cdn.ifaketextmessage.com/convos/2018/04/iphone-QFti.png[/img][/center] It was done. Immediately he buried his phone beneath his pillow placing his head on top of the pillow and tried to wait it out. Maybe time would go by quickly and he would have a response soon? Maybe she was just as anxious? His phone vibrated and his pillow was nearly torn asunder as his desperate claws reached the phone. It was the Domino’s pizza app he kept forgetting to delete. They had a deal for 7.99 two topping large pizzas. Wow, that’s an amazing deal.