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Post by NEELANJAN MARTIN on Dec 16, 2013 16:41:09 GMT -8
The past couple of weeks had been interesting, to say the least. A newfound interest in socializing and actually meeting people had somehow spawned from his relocation to a new city, and there were actually folks around him that he genuinely enjoyed talking to. People he might some day grow to consider friends, even if he didn't know them just yet. He was starting to see that the people around him were in themselves adventures, and it was somewhat tantalizing yet terrifying to see how his perspective had changed so swiftly.
Take what had occurred a couple of days ago, for one. He'd managed to somehow save a Ben Wishaw lookalike from being mauled to death by a bunch of Ben Wishaw fangirls. Quite the feat, considering he'd been half thinking about asking for an autograph himself, and he was quite the connoisseur, but he'd managed to pull his senses together and know an impostor when he laid his eyes on one. A quick conversation later and the other man had ended up fleeing into the distance, never to be seen again...
Or not.
See, he had revealed what radio station he'd worked for, and Neil was quite determined to at least give him a holler and see how he'd react to a nice surprise. Neil hadn't ever owned a radio save for the one in his car, but he'd managed to tune his computer into The Sunshine Station that evening. When Donovan had announced that they were accepting calls for requests, he'd dialed the number as quickly as he could, listening to the hum of the ringing tone.
Fingers crossed.
Aha, someone picked it up!
"Hello, this is Neil Martin on the line. I'm looking to speak to a Mister Ben Wishaw, please?"
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Post by DONOVAN SHEPHERD on Dec 17, 2013 1:31:06 GMT -8
It was always after the line opened for requests that Louisa took her break, leaving Donovan to handle the few callers they managed to get. But it was admittedly a rather easy part of his job despite his initial hesitations, the conversations kept brief, typically over once the name of the song was given. Only the occasional drunken prank caller, or somebody sad and lonely that wanted to go on about their failed love lives. Donovan usually let them ramble on, since they weren't all that busy, and the calls weren't aired as the hour-long stretch of commercial-free programming played out.
After Mi-Ho had started working around the station, she had begun screening the calls for any of the various contests they held, but song requests weren't as frequent to require the extra attention and were allowed to go straight through.
Failing picking up crumbled bits of paper with a cheap pair of chopsticks he purchased after his embarrassingly awkward lunch with Kyu-Sik, Donovan was glad when the phone rang so he couldn't get too frustrated at how bad he was at using them. He opened his mouth to give his standard thank you for calling spiel, when the caller began speaking first. That was uncommon.
"Sorry, sir, I think you have the wrong number," Donovan began politely, "This is the Su-" Donovan paused for a moment as he processed the name, the context clicking into place. "Neil?"
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Post by NEELANJAN MARTIN on Jan 1, 2014 3:13:12 GMT -8
Yup, he was on air.
Neil could hear his voice echo through his laptop's speakers seconds after he said the words, and a small smile curled up at the edge of his lips. He'd never actually tried calling in at a radio station before; he'd wanted to a couple of times when he was younger, but his mother had persuaded him against it. Well, younger Neil could eat his heart out, because not only was he speaking with a lookalike of one of his favorite celebrities, but he was on the airwaves. "Yes, this is Neil." He wasn't going to go as far to add "Neil, your savior", but it went unsaid between the two. Hey, he had never been known for great modesty, or anything of the like.
"So, have I won any awards or any prizes? Or do I just get to make a caller request for a song? I'm happy with either, though the former would be nice." He chuckled. This was actually somewhat entertaining, even if just to hear his own voice. Funny how you always sounded different in recordings-- he certainly did think that he sounded more nasal, more hollow than he sounded in his own head. Then again, who knew. Maybe it was just him being too critical of himself. That was new.
"But how are you? Any more ravaging fangirls ready to consume your soul?"
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Post by DONOVAN SHEPHERD on Jan 1, 2014 4:11:58 GMT -8
HOLD YOUR BREATH AND COUNT TO TEN Clutching the phone as Neil cheerfully rambled on, all he could wonder was why the other man had sought him out. The idea of anybody going through the trouble of finding his workplace and waiting for the right time to call for the purpose of friendliness was too odd to consider, didn't think he made an impression the compel anybody to want to speak with him again. And after discovering earlier that day what was possible to learn about him with internet searches and knowledge of Neil's computer expertise, Donovan felt a bit uneasiness resurface. It was almost enough to make Donovan think that the other man was trying to publicly embarrass him, after he bolted away from their last conversation. Maybe he had offended Neil, who had admittedly saved him from the strange situation. Had he been too ungrateful? He'd have to make sure his thankfulness was clear. "Fangirl free," Donovan sounded rather relieved, hoped he wouldn't have to deal with any repeat incidents. Or else he'd have to get a sign to tape to the front of his shirt as a disclaimer for his identity. Or hire Neil as a full time bodyguard. "For a hero like you, I'll make it two requests. On the house," he continued on with none of the tension in his voice, knowing logically that there was likely no nefarious intention behind this call. Neil had expressed interest in the music, and it could be as simple as that. "And a free mug with our nifty logo printed on the side. Your choice of the one I'm drinking from now or a new one," his voice remained rather neutral despite the clear jest. WORDS:280 TAGS:Neil NOTES:
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