“Thanks,” said Neil, ignoring a appearance of familiars and taking the phone. He started to dial… changed his mind then redialed a number that wouldn’t end in his being strangled by a red-headed vampire and called someone who might be more suited to dealing with his current dangerous state of unpredictability. The cell went straight to Ryan Byrne’s voicemail – ginger bastard – but Neil wasn’t worried, he wasn’t going to go into the agony of withdrawal and detox quite yet. He knew, however, that whatever was singing through his veins so gloriously vicious right now was beginning to wane from euphoria to simple giddiness.
It would become pain, he knew intellectually though his happy haze, shortly thereafter. Goody gumdrops. Fuck this town. Fuck it hard.
“Hi, it’s Neil MacKenna. I know we just met, like, yesterday but you’re the only local fire starter at my level and I’m in a bad way right now. Maybe dangerous. I feel fucking great though. I’m high if you haven’t guessed except I didn’t want to behigh so it’s a bad bad thing because Fire is all up in my head right now. I melted my cellphone so I’m using some nice girl’s phone to call you. She too is a ginger elemental so this is happenstance of a peculiar… never mind. I’m high. I’m at the local performance theatre. If you could help me out I’ll owe you something and I rarely own shit to anyone. Pounce on this opportunity man.”
Then he hung up and got to his feet. “Thanks,” he said to ginger fox girl. “I know you heard, but I’m Neil and it’s terribly nice of you to take on be so Good Samaritan. Feel free to ditch me now I’ve got under control.” Lies, but whatever.