spencer starts trying to tone down his rambling in the workplace in efforts to look more professional
but he can't just not go down a rabbithole when he starts thinking
so he starts sending you voicemails whenever he feels the urge to start chattering
literally 3-5 minutes of a windy did you know ramble
then it's see you tonight :) and he hangs up
“hey, angel.”
his voice rings out through your phone's speaker. you can almost see him as he speaks–his hand shielding the mic to eliminate any external noise while he frantically explains whatever's on his mind today.
you set your phone up nearby, turning the volume up enough so you can hear it while you go about your menial tasks of brushing your teeth and making the bed.
you opt for his voice instead of your playlist during your commute to work—softer now, a quiet murmur through your headphones. you can hear the hum of the jet, the muffled conversation from his team, followed by a sharp reid that brings his ramblings to a screeching halt, promising to continue in the next one. (he does, picking up exactly where he left off.)
the messages accumulate throughout the day, filling your inbox. you should be more worried about the capacity and the possibility that you might miss messages from other people, but he's the only one who ever leaves you any. who even uses voicemail anymore?
they become your personal podcast, taking up far too much storage on your phone. you’ve saved every single one. they help when he's away and you miss him. you replay them more than you’d like to admit–you’ve nearly got them all memorised.
