2019-10-07 - VTT and Auto Correct

Kelsey looked away from her computer, over to her phone when it buzzed. Time Traveler. She nearly spit out her coffee from wanting to laugh, but swallowed it down and set up the 'Voice ot Text'. This guy...

Entirely not in the comfort of his house, Nasir was instead clinging to the top of yet another utility pole by his own trailer. That was his life, now; ever since they had realized the little guru of jury-rigging had returned home, at last, he was up for plenty of little favours around red neck land and here was another of those favours. Seeing the sterling grammar in the way she texted did indeed bring a certain feeling of unease in him- was he typing like a complete mongoloid? Yes he was, and while the wind beat at his face hard on that utility pole's top and mess of wires; wires he was fixing still, he struggled with the "Voice to Text" button beneath that desperate pushing of his thickly gloved index finger.

"C'mon you mother fucker, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," thud, thud, thud, thud, thud; thud, and she'd see - if she stared indeed - that the phone would warn her that he was typing but really it was just the broadness of his fingertip mashing buttons in a fumble to try and get the VtT going. Eventually, he stuck out a little finger and socketed the microphone-shaped button finally, speaking into the text.

The Sun's hard glare on the screen gave him a very poor view of what was being written - or echoed - off of his words, and the wind didn't really help, instead messing it all up.

Kelsey has had a lot of time to get used to Voice to Text. Her phone had come to recognize her patterns and her speech and so the miscommunications were pretty minimal these days. And the ones that were? Well...she wasn't clinging to a pole a 20 or 30 feet or so off the ground and could correct them. It was the writer in her. It had to be somewhat perfect if the time allowed for it.

She was in the middle of playing a match of League of Legends now that she could at least use her hand. Trying to get used to using the mouse with only three fingers. It was an inconvenient three fingers- but that's what the side buttons were for.

Then Kelsey's laughing again when his text comes through and she reads it, trying to decipher it. She could pick out a little.

There'd be a bit of a time delay until the moment of Nasir's response, for he had been holding up the phone like an idiot looking for signal to try and beat the Sun's hard illumination that darkened the touchscreen, and no matter how much he squinted; no matter how hard he tried to get a look in, he just couldn't make out what she had replied. Grumbling under his breath, he slipped the phone into one of his safety vest's upper pockets and went about finishing the job at a less steady, quicker pace.

"Fucking Billy, and Buck, and Joe," he mumbled copiously in disdain, plying a loose cable free; plucking a filter in with his wrench, and otherwise affixing himself on tending to all the flaws brought forth by outback engineering that wasn't his own.

And then he got off the pole.

He dumped his things in a little wagon cart attached like a dinghy to a ringlet at the end of his ATV and once he sat on it and made use of his torso's broadness to shield the screen from the Sun did he finally read, and smiled. He laughed, even, all exacerbated by the mess he wrote right beforehand.

Kelsey, through this, also had her headset on - but the mic had been muted. Because, you know, not even the internet needed to be privy to her texting conversation. But it was unmuted in this moment, which meant her phone picked it up. "Don't give me shit, asshole. I've carried you this whole damn game and I'm only using three fucking fingers! So get your shit together and do what a jungler's supposed to do yeah? Jesus." Kelsey picked her phone up, not really looking at it, managing to press the send button. So Nasir gets something like...

Kelsey's eyes widen as she looks at her phone and laughs as she mutes her mic again and quickly goes doing up another text.

Nasir gently set his phone on the axis of the ATV's handle, freeing his right hand to lean in, down and within the skeleton of the bike, turning the petcock after some struggle with the valve. Next came a much smaller cylinder deep beneath the sit, the choke. He loosened it some, and kept a finger hovering over it until he felt a smooth little stream of air erode onto his fingertip, ensuring gas flowed.

With one smooth press of his foot, the kickstart flung out and he laid swinging pressure on it thrice before the whole engine started, puffing out hard, dark smoke out the exhaust pipe, something he didn't like.

"Another change of gas? You're getting old, Mike. Oooold," he'd stroke the ATV's panel endearingly before revving it up, taking off to the empty dirt road on a slow, easy pace; easy enough to control while he replied in a text, perpetual amusement drawn all across his face.

Kelsey made quick work of finishing off her game. They lost, but whatever. She wasn't expecting to win. Her hand was hurting so it was time to relax. She made her way out to the living room where her English Mastiff puppy, Wishbone, was laying on the couch like he owned it. Eh, he might as well. "I'm gonna need to get a couch just for you soon huh?" Teasing the pup as she gave him a scritch behind the ears. "Let's see what's on TV huh? Maybe we'll get some dinner ideas."

Kelsey settled on the couch and Wishbone was quick to plop his upper half in her lap, Oof. The TV got turned on and her phone dinged. Peeking at it, the woman couldn't help her smile as she read over Nasir's reply.

Presumptuous Kelsey. That there'd be a second round of Milkshakes after the first. She cleared her throat. Wishbone was looking at her weird because she was talking to the phone. "Oh hush you. Here, smile for the time traveler." She took a picture of the pup laying on her and sent that along too.

The road was mostly clear, thankfully. Most denizens of Huckleberry tended to get around driving the most eccentric of scooters, owing to how close everything was, it just didn't help that many and most of them did it while hauling a loaded gun on the back.

At first, Nasir could only see the blurry image of the pup's form on the phone, and he thumbed it for it to load. It took a while, so much so he got impatient and shook the phone around like he intended to pop champagne. "C'mon--.. Three G? Please, why can't anything work in this place?" His phone was held in the air, and he stared at that line of signal with a judging set of pressing, dark brows.

Come time, the '4G' numeral changed, and the pup's little form loaded with the increased bandwidth. Air caught in his throat, and he felt suddenly queasy at the view. His eyes drooped, his lips pressed to a dimpled, softened smile and three set of drawn-out breaths eroded out his nostrils, accompanied by one perplexed; "Fuck, he's cute."

One look up to the road for safety measure, another back to ensure no one came from behind, and he led the bike on with his right hand while using his left - as the leftie that he was - to type away eagerly.

Food Network was playing. Chopped to be specific. One of Kelsey's favorites. It always gave her neat ideas. However, she was distracted, mildly, staring down at her phone and watching those little bubbles that meant a response was on the way. "Whatcha think Wishbone? You gonna run Nasir off the property if you see him?" She laughed at the notion. The more likely scenario was that he would tackle Nasir to the ground and cover him in licks. It would help if he knew where she lived, Kelsey supposed. And it, ironically maybe, just so happened that he was very close to her location.

"Wait," was the only possible reaction he could muster at the news. He hardened his legs' curved and buckled drop on the flanks of the ATV while stopping the vehicle, ways away from the center of the road, to take a sudden stop. He perched himself atop the bike and looked East. It was the dawn, yes, but he wasn't expecting Gandalf, no; he expected to give himself an immediate sense of direction. Elm street, number seven.. shit, that's close. A new brand of anxiety kicks in, and he fumbled the phone in his hand so much so he almost dropped it from that standing he was doing atop his four-wheeler.

Wisely, he slowly lowers himself down on the pad and leans as back as his spine would allow, inhaling a rather necessary deep breath immediately after. With this new-found angle, and the screen obscured beneath askew leaves from atop, he replied. Hesitantly.

He lives in Huckleberry. It was practically right next door. Kelsey wasn't sure how to feel about this news. About...any of this. She didn't understand why this random guy she met just over 24 hours ago was so stuck in her head. She doesn't respond back right away, because if she does she can already see it now. She's going to tell him to just come over now. Since her plans with Garrett & Co seemed like maybe they were being rescheduled. But if he came over, she'd let him in and he'd see all her, everything. Her weird living room that was more like a museum and her messy, but orderly array of books on all the subjects he didn't want to talk about. At least, if he came over later, she could be waiting just near the door. And wouldn't have to fully let him in.

Ugh. Why did she care??

Kelsey exhaled softly and picked up the phone. "Hear that Wishbone? You're gonna get to meet someone new." She gave the pup another scritch before finally responding.

Nasir had almost forgotten about the phone, specifically as he encroached upon his own trailer on the return trip. He was wary of being seen- of getting any of those sore-necked inhabitants he called neighbors to get a look of his arrival, for he had a tendency of making things magically break when spotted so that people felt a need to ask him to fix it. He slowed his bike to a steady pace, enough so the smoke regurgitating of his exhaust pipe didn't alarm everything in a ten-mile radius, and let gravity and momentum instead guide it down the twice slopes that angled down into the fenced shelter of his trailer.

He eased the bike to a reeling stop by that gas stove somewhere near his door, stepping off of it after. His helmet was hung on the rightmost handle and he took off each leather glove to stuff it into said helmet before fetching his cellphone yet again.

On the way in, he read it; on that last step to entering, his right foot kicked back and he heeled the door close, just as he read her confirmation. "Yes!" he called out triumphantly, swinging out a fist to the side in hypothetical defiance of negativity.

Who promptly slammed onto the metallic frame of his door, bruising his knuckles. It hurt him.

But the pain could wait. Straightening his shoulders, setting his elbows apart from his midriff theatrically, he took on a pontified expression and slowly made to text back, calculatingly.

Kelsey was focusing on the television. Idly making a few mental notes for some things to try. Maybe she'd make a run to the store, her cupboards were getting a little bare of anything appetizing. The little ding had her immediately pick up the phone again and Wishbone made a soft little 'wuff' at the interruption. Briefly her mind switching from what to make for lunch to, what do you wear to get milkshakes? A little smile at the nickname. She'd figure something out.