osreborn | IC CONTACT.

Entry tags:

contact

IC CONTACT.

(555 - 888 - 3010)

"Norman Osborn. If you're calling about a job interview, hang up now and call [ business phone number ]. Otherwise stay on the line and leave a message. I'll get back to you when I can."

beep!

calls | voice mail | text messages | email

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Norman Osborn. Hello?

Hello, Norman. [brightly] Is this the suicide help emergency hotline?

Not even slightly, so don't even consider holding me accountable for your personal problems.

[ Kids these days. ]

This is my cellphone. Who is this?

[oh.]

This was the number that was listed... I, uh.

So this is awkward.

[ Oh boy. ]

Having some trouble, young lady?

Oh. Now you care. [There's no bite in it, and truth be told she'd rather talk to a stranger than a stranger who's paid to care about her.]

Actually, I was just stating the obvious.

[ He hasn't hung up though, not yet; he's mildly curious, though not concerned. ]

Fair enough. [She likes that answer even more. Curiosity is a million times better than concern, in Lily's book.] ...How long does it take before this place actually seems real?

Assuming you're even an ImPort or, whatever.

I am, lucky you. One that's fairly used to the existence of other universes, I should add -- or rather the possibilities. [ His tone is relatively dry. ] The brain's desperation for rationality kicks in. A few months ought to do it.

A few months. Because I'm not dealing with enough bullshit already.

Then adapt faster. You have control over your own reactions to life.

It's not that easy.

Why not?

Because it's not. This place is not New York. It's not even as similar as they try to make it seem like.

[ Calmly: ] Who's the one in control of your emotions? What about your thoughts? Is it them, or is it you?

[...O-oh. That actually gets through to her. Softly,] Me.

[ Tough love with Norman Osborn. ]

Very good. See, that wasn't so hard. Once you've realized that much, the rest will fall into place.

Will it though? I tried to kill myself and then I was sent-- [ohgodohgodohgod] I'm still dead.

That must be it. I'm still dead, I never woke up.

Then what am I?

A figment of your imagination?

Well, yeah.

Wrong.

[ He even makes a buzzer noise. ]

A word of advice, young lady; if you really want to adapt yourself to reality you need to understand that reality does not merely start and stop within your own mind.

[That, also, seems to catch her off-guard and there's a soft intake of breath followed by a long silence.]

So I should just suck it up and believe all this crazy shit, is what you're saying? The paraphrased edition.

No. You should adapt.

Yeah. And how do you suggest I do that?

Isn't it obvious?

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get a move on with your life.

call!

call!

call!

Re: call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!

call!