mutedpoint

It was late when Arthur had finally made his way home from the airport. The job had been simple, an in-and-out extraction in order to test the militarization of some company CEO, hardly requiring the three weeks of prep work done by the entire team. He’d checked his messages, made a note that Mal had asked he contact her when he was available before going off to bed, jet lag finally catching up to him.

By the time he wakes, it’s nine in the morning — it doesn’t take long for him to get through his morning routine, and he sorts through his mental list of to-dos. At this time, he’ll be able to catch Mal, if not Dom if he calls their home line. He picks up the phone and dials, holding it between his shoulder, arms free to sort through his laundry while the line connects.

A worn out, reinforced envelope is slipped underneath your door. Where ever you're staying. The postmarks indicate that it's been around the world, and none of the addresses are familiar. How did it even get to you? The last address it was sent to is a P.O. box, rented out to those who need it, so it can't be returned. You debate whether to open it, or to just leave it be.




( Should you open it... )

[[ooc 2: Ambitious plot is ambitious Apologies for taking liberties with the other muses. (And basically godmodding.) But um, don't click unless you want to?]

I wish I could draw decent people, or had more time to do this properly, but words will have to suffice for now.

( There's a piece of truth for everyone, give me something to die for. )