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Summary
The phone rang three times before a response came, “...Gri?"
The voice was groggy, and clearly muffled with exhaustion. Grian let out a shaky exhale. “Sorry, Scar.”
He could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. “Hm? F’what?”
“Waking you up?” Grian replied, trying (and failing) to keep the quiver out of his voice. “I-I just needed a distraction, didn’t realize I called you.”
There was a beat of silence, and a scream from the kitchen.
“...That’s fine, Grian. You can always talk to me.” Scar sounded far more awake all of a sudden.
Grian swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered, “You hear them?”
{OR: Grian is having a rough night. Scar just wants him to be okay.}