It’s definitely not a good time to be calling Gavin if it goes straight to his messages but Elijah is persistent. It’s the few moments he has to himself where he can even make a call. “Hello Gavin,” his tone is a faux chipper one, edging on exhaustion, “I know you’re probably busy but I was thinking... it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other & I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tonight. Chloe is making one of mother’s homestyle recipes & I thought of you.”
( pt 2 ) there’s a muffled sound of the aforementioned android, speaking about a meeting which makes Elijah sigh heavily. There’s a pause, clearly a sign he’s rubbing the bridge of his nose. Not a few seconds later. “You’ll have to forgive me for the short notice. Always busy. Just… shoot Chloe a text if you decide to pop by.” & he hangs up, the lingering words of ‘I love you’ hanging on his tongue, still uncertain to utter the words to his brother after so long apart.
he’s leaving the precinct later than predicted, and that morning had been a bit of a rush so there was no time to grab a spare charger for his phone, nor check to see if it was even going to last the day. it didn’t, spoiler alert, leaving detective at his desk filling out a case report in relative silence. perhaps it was for the best, no distractions - he finishes the gilmont report just after 6:30 pm and right before he starts to consider eating his own stapler for sustenance. he missed lunch, like he always does, and his android partner has yet to convince gavin that a few slim jims and three cups of black coffee are not considered a full meal. he’s starving by the time he leaves.
a new message alert pings him once he gets in his car and hooks up his phone to the blue-tooth. the little alexa voice says ‘ass-face’ in a way that always makes gavin laugh because he’s still a child, alerting him that his brother has left a message. he hems and haws about listening to it for all of two minutes before he tells alexa to play him the voicemail.
it takes even more contemplating for gavin to decide what he wants to do at the offer. not like he has any plans for himself, he never does. but…wouldn’t it be weird? they were trying to make amends, trying to desperately recover whatever was left of their relationship in small steps, but dinner at his villa? they usually went out. the safety of public made it seem less…personal. but, was this just another step? elijah reached out. extended the olive branch. and it’s not like this is the first time he’s gone over there since the revolution.
his stomach growls. their mother was a shit-show but she knew how to cook; italian and jewish made for the best kinds of home cooking. he wonders what elijah picked to make.
“text ass-face,” he speaks to the ai tucked away in his dashboard, “eta: twenty minutes. i’ll bring the bottle.” they both aren’t heavy drinkers but, when the time called for it. plus, it made taking all these steps a little easier. // @rcprobate
