inbox;

[capforthat]

VOICE; VIDEO; TEXT; E-MAIL

"Hi! This is the CereVice of Bulma Briefs. I'm busy right now, but if you leave a message I'll get back to you soon.

Unless you're Vegeta. If you're Vegeta, you can just forget it. I'm still mad!"

[beep.]

Comments

video;

[timepatroller]

... Mother, I don't mean to pry, but-- This, uh. "Galactic Patrolman Jaco"? ... Can he be trusted?

[capforthat]

[Well, the smile she answered the call with didn't last long.]

He's an old family friend, but I haven't really been in contact with him since I was a kid. [Note that this isn't necessarily a "yes".] Why? What's he done now?

[timepatroller]

Nothing, yet. ... I just know the Galactic Patrol doesn't have the highest opinion of Saiyans, is all. And rightfully so, if you really think about it.

I just- You know. Didn't know if he was a special case, or something. He seems like kind of an idiot.

[capforthat]

Ha! That's putting it mildly. [She frowns thoughtfully.] ...You might want to avoid mentioning your relation to me or your father. He didn't take Vegeta's existence in the colony very well.

Video / [1/22]

[bigbingoattack]

[Poor Vegeta. Just trying to call and chat with his wife and he's met with that message! "--Unless you're my husband. If you're my husband, you can just forget it. I'm still mad!" Would this madness ever end?!

He really should have just blown up the Earth years ago.]

I must be talented.

[capforthat]

[She calls back pretty much immediately, her expression a mixture of confusion and wariness.

...yeah, she might have forgotten what her voicemail message is.]

That depends on what you're talking about.

[bigbingoattack]

To bring about your fury without even trying.

[A sigh, he sounds more exasperated than amused. The last few days, with the city going haywire, had clearly left him a little worn around the edges. Well, even more than usual.] What did I do this time?

OOC

[bigbingoattack]

WIFE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[capforthat]

I want a divorce.

[bigbingoattack]

well now im just sad

Voice;

[patroller]

Is it a human custom for flowers and chocolates to mean something?

[ Jaco was cross legged on the floor of his little room, studying the flier and coupons laid out on the ground in front of him. ]

Voice; 1/2

[capforthat]

Huh? Flowers and chocolate?

[capforthat]

[... oh. He must have gotten his little care package, then.

Teehee.]

It's very important! You give them to someone you hold in high esteem on a special day.

[patroller]

What.

[ That wasn't really assassins. He wasn't sure what intel to go off of at this point but THIS was definitely different. ]

When's this day? So I should go to these chocolate making courses then?

[ He rubbed his forehead. Who should he give this to? Trunks? Bulma? ... Trunks? How many people did he hold in high esteem? ]

OOC

[bigbingoattack]

[capforthat]

Special Delivery!! - 2/14

[serving_love]

[So despite all the doomsday destruction going on, Sanji still manages to get Bulma her Valentine's Day present! What, you thought the small matter of a saiyan obliterating the city would stop him? Pffft.

...Okay, so he's probably actually still trying dig himself out of a pile of rubble somewhere, but luckily his gifts were all ready to go and he has underlings at the studio delivering stuff for him.

IN ANY CASE, he's made all sorts of chocolates with little swirly designs on them because they match his eyebrow. His chocolate-covered fruit bouquets turned out pretty well, too! He's a little proud of them.

And, of course, you have to have flowers. Just a small few, held together with a red ribbon.

There's a note attached, as well:]

Happy Valentine's Day, Bulma-chan!!

Now you have something to snack on at your spa day~ Hope you enjoy them!

- Sanji

not here

[capforthat]

[Oh Sanji. You'll never know how much she needs that chocolate when she gets home.]

Action / [2/18]

[bigbingoattack]

[The sun had yet to rise by the time that Vegeta finally returned to their apartment, the Saiyan hesitating briefly outside of the front door before pushing his way in.

He was met only by the overwhelming stink of stale cigarette smoke. No obnoxiously high-pitched shrieking. No overdramatic feminine weeping. Just silence.

And stench.

A careful trudge through the entryway and past the kitchen revealed exactly why his reappearance was met with such stillness--Bulma was sprawled out across their couch, one leg hanging off the armrest and an arm thrown up at an awkward above her head, dead asleep.

As miserably distressed as the man felt after his three day lockdown within CERES, he couldn't help but snort at the sight, black eyes gazing briefly over Bulma's sleeping body before trailing down to the half-finished bottle of wine nearby. And that mug filled with cigarette butts. Hm.

When Bulma would no doubt awaken to the rustling of movement and running water within the kitchen, she'd find her impromptu ashtray and bottle of wine were gone, a glass of water in their place.]

[capforthat]

[The first thing Bulma does when she wakes up, before she's opened her eyes or processed exactly what dragged her back to consciousness, is flop her hand onto the coffee table. She feels along it clumsily, searching for the bottle she knows is there. When her questing fingers bump the glass she cracks open a bleary eye.

That is not a bottle of wine.

That is a glass of water, and those are the sounds of someone else in the apartment. Either the world's most thoughtful home invader is in the kitchen or Vegeta has finally come back from wherever he took off to. She isn't entirely certain which she'd prefer.

For a while Bulma sits and glares at the water as if it's solely responsible for the circles under her eyes. She could just lie back down and pretend she hadn't woken up, put off the unpleasant conversation she knows needs to happen for a few more hours. Maybe another day, if she's lucky. She picks up the glass and slams the whole thing back in one go. Yeah, sure, like putting it off would make it any easier.

That doesn't mean she won't drag her feet a little on her way to the kitchen.]

If you think bringing me a glass of water is going to get you back into my good graces, you've got another thing coming. [She leans in the doorway, one hand on her hip. She isn't shouting, but that's only because she's far beyond the point where yelling at him would make her feel any better about what happened.]

[bigbingoattack]

[Bulma is treated to the long, silent view of her husband's back, still wearing his torn battle suit and boots, hands looking strangely naked without his gloves. Vegeta takes his time knocking the rest of the cigarette ash into the garbage before he acknowledges the woman standing behind him, carefully setting the mug in the sink as he turns to face his (rightly) angry wife.

Most of the bruises and cuts he received from five days earlier have healed by now, and the few that haven't seem to be settling in to add to the collection of scars that already cover his body.

The man is silent, staring back at his wife, meeting Bulma's gaze proudly and with no show of reluctance. Despite everything that had happened, Vegeta is not a coward. He will face the consequences of his actions with as much dignity as he had faced certain death in battle.

But there was certainly something different in that hard gaze today. Nothing nearly as startling as to how he was acting as certain memories were beginning to fade just days earlier, but it's noticeable. If Bulma can even see beyond her anger to catch it.]

I would like to think I know you better than that.

Action [2/22]

[bigbingoattack]

[Home, sweet home.

The weight of the last week still continues to pull at the couple's shoulders as they return to their lonely apartment--which had somehow managed to come out of the flood unscathed--the pair immediately separating at the entryway. While Bulma made a beeline for a hot shower, Vegeta was already turning into the kitchen, throwing open the fridge door and giving into that ravenous Saiyan appetite of his.

The silence stretched on between them, the quietness providing a tense comfort through the shared living space.

Eventually, as the evening wore on, Bulma ended up on the couch, curled up with a mug of hot coffee, too tired to even consider moving again. It was at this point that Vegeta emerged from the kitchen, still as mute as he had been since their arrival home. He moved to sit beside his wife, keeping an inch or two distance between their bodies, purposely careful to keep from touching her.]

[capforthat]

[It's been one hell of a week. Bulma idly scrolls through lines of code on her CereVice, although she can't concentrate enough to troubleshoot it. Her thoughts keep scampering off in a thousand different directions, the jerks.

She should probably give herself a day or two to process, but that means missing Trunks--both of them--more keenly than she's allowed herself to. It means coming to terms with the loss (again) and dredging up the strength to keep moving forward.

She'd rather keep herself busy. It's been working so far.

When Vegeta joins her on the couch she glances at him from the corner of her eye, almost immediately returning her gaze to the screen. Over the last few days Bulma's anger has run its course. Which isn't to say that she's not still hurting, or that she hasn't debated with herself whether or not to leave him twisting indefinitely every single day. But only an idiot wouldn't have picked up on the regret in his actions since the flood, and she prides herself on not being an idiot. There's a subtle shift in her posture, an unconscious and almost imperceptible angling towards him. Even if the silence between them isn't exactly comfortable, there's reassurance to be found in Vegeta's strong presence beside her. Her subconscious knows what her higher processes refuse to acknowledge; ultimately, she's going to forgive him, if for no other reason than denying CERES the satisfaction of dissolving years of hard work and compromise with one bad week.]

[bigbingoattack]

[One truly horrible week.

That quick glance is caught and returned, Vegeta looking away just as Bulma does, his gaze falling distantly on the coffee table, the half finished glass of water he'd set out before the storm still sitting there. A city in absolute turmoil, drowning and collapsing in on itself, and yet here in their apartment it was as if nothing had changed.

Even straining under the great weight he's been holding up the last week, Vegeta does not crumble. Since the earliest days of his association with Frieza, the Saiyan has been building up a wall around himself, using his pride in his royal blood as the solid foundation. Yes, with his death at that monster's hands, the wall had been blasted apart, leaving the prince more vulnerable than he had ever felt before. But since the day he'd been wished back to life, he'd slowly been repairing what had been shattered. It was a different sort of wall now, patched shoddily together with the help of his family and (as reluctant as he may be to call them) friends, yet it sometimes felt even more sturdy than what he'd had before.

But now there was a new crack, small but not easy to ignore, splintering out across the stone, an obvious hole in his defense that would take time to mend.

It troubled Vegeta to no end.

As Bulma's slim body angles just the slightest bit closer to him, the Saiyan shifts noiselessly, just to where it was easy for his head to lightly rest at the woman's shoulder. It's not a position he takes often, Vegeta is usually content to sit unyieldingly stiff at her side, but just this once he's allowing his wife to carry just the slightest bit of the weight that's cracking him.]

[timepatroller]

hEY