[ A text would have made more sense. It would be easier to just write it out and wait for the inevitable call that would come through as soon as Clary saw it, but somehow it just feels wrong to tell her like that. He doesn't know why, but after a solid half hour of deafening silence in the apartment he's calling her with no real plan to speak of. He's already back on his feet and pacing by the time she answers, his free hand raking through his hair. ]
Clary. Hey.
[ It's immediately clear from his tone that something's wrong, not least of all because he has no idea where to even start. He's just caught up in the sound of her voice on the other end of the kine, just for a second, it's a flicker of relief that's something to hang onto as long as possible. He only wishes he could be in denial right about now, but he knows. ]
voice; un: flyboy
Clary. Hey.
[ It's immediately clear from his tone that something's wrong, not least of all because he has no idea where to even start. He's just caught up in the sound of her voice on the other end of the kine, just for a second, it's a flicker of relief that's something to hang onto as long as possible. He only wishes he could be in denial right about now, but he knows. ]
I need to talk to you.