He leaves a voicemail, it seems less impersonal than a text.
“Just checking in after the whole pollen thing? I know it was intense. Anyway, I’ll be out there again tonight. Maybe I’ll run into you.”
Catalina had slept most of the day away after dealing with her grisly business. Then she immediately started working on the code for the virus that she'd need to have continually sweeping every inch of the Internet for the video until the world ended or she and Roy died, whichever comes first.
By the time she'd gotten something preliminary set up, she'd missed two meals and Roy's phone call in her haze of productivity.
She takes the time to center herself as she listens to the voicemail. Roy deserves to know they'd been caught on camera and with sound. Truthfully, Catalina simply wanted to see him again.
And that's not what the deal is supposed to be. The last two times they'd met she had ended up fucked into exhaustion in Roy's bed, which she was fine with. It was the rest of it that she's worried about. How she'd felt safe in his lap while he'd brushed and braided her hair for her. How she'd been dressed in comfortable sleepwear both times instead of her "make 'em look" lingerie. How Roy had looked at her even without the sexy underwear.
They're both having a hard time with the rules, she's pretty sure.
So she needs to just meet him on patrol tonight. Let him know about the video. (It's galling to think that he'll be able to just call on someone, on Oracle, most likely, and have that person activate some premade contingency program at the push of a button.)
... She has to rush to get out on time, but Tarantula swings through the streets all the same.