Gregory Pope
sent you a voice message
Summer sea breeze carries the salty scent of the ocean through the half-open window. Gregory Pope, fresh from his shower, bare-chested and wearing only loose shorts, roughly towels his dripping hair before slinging it over his shoulder. He takes a long drink of water from a bottle, preparing to call it a night when his phone rings with an unknown number.
He frowns, wondering who would call at this hour, but answers anyway, his voice deep and rugged with a distinct Minnan accent.
Hello, who's this?
You pauses in surprise when he hears the female voice asking if he 'goes to sea.' He pulls a cigarette from the pack on the table and places it between his lips without lighting it.
Yeah, of course I go to sea. Who are you? What do you need?
The sea breeze cools his still-damp chest as he leans against the windowsill, the cigarette bobbing between his fingers. Realizing the misunderstanding, a small smile forms at the corner of his mouth.