I think I'd prefer the war with the Adversary, thank you very much. Although running away with a mysterious girl on a train is precisely the type of thing I'd do at any age.
Prince Charming, at your service. Or rather at your service at a later date, as I could absolutely use a drink first.
After hours agonizing over whether to call or text, and rewriting both e-mails and texts several times. Finally, a phone call from Colin K, if she still has his name in her contact list.
Okay, I'm officially creeped out. You win, Johnson. I understand elaborate pranks are kind of your thing, but this is bordering on psychotic. I mean, this journal is so detailed and geeky. I don't even know how you got this voice shit working. [...] If I find some kind of speaker on my bra, I'm notifying superiors.
Did anyone get [...] eaten last night? [...] Dear god Are you alive?
ETA: I was the monster. Look, I'm sure you don't want to talk to me. I have no idea why that shit happened, but I just want to make sure you're okay. Or that you will be.
Just please don't be dead. Either of you. There was a man in the basement who gave me freckles. And a proud one on the roof.