<Insert end of conversation / awkward silence with Tuber here>
Like most of its cousins in the age of digital communication and interstellar travel, the post office is a small, sparsely furnished affair, with little room for waiting and an implicit assumption that anyone actually shipping a package could handle their own paperwork. Thorne, Yaelin and Haphaestus had elected to contact Terra on their own, so Picket's story about sending off their paperwork is just that–but under the disinterested eye of the elderly goblin behind the desk, he does have other business, and it's the type that could more than sour any relief he feels at being out from under Terra.
He grimaces as he enters the public ansible set into the lobby wall and picks up the receiver, hand hesitating over the touch-pad. After a moment, he lets out a long breath and punches in the alphanumeric code for his contact at the PGLMI, waiting through the interstellar static until the call is answered by a synthetic voice.
"You are leaving a collect message. Please state your name for the intended recipient's benefit."
"Junior."
"Thank you, <Junior>. Please record your message after the tone. When you are finished recording, you may hang up, or press Omega for more options. <beep>."
"Hey Dad, how's the weather?"
Agent checking in. I am not communicating under duress or coercion.
"Hope it's better than over here. Planet I just got back from had a storm come out of nowhere; hailstones the size of your fist, couldn't see down the street if you were dumb enough to go outside. Put the speeder in the shop, it was so bad."
Just escaped from unexpected danger area. Minimum scope, continental; full extent, unclear. Most personal resources lost during extraction.
"But hey, enough about that, you can check the weather yourself, right? Meantime, I caught a ride to Shan City. I think I've got a cousin who lives here, right? What was her name again... Sona?"
Request investigation of incident. I can be found at Shan City, but am not traveling alone. Suspected fellow operative nearby, request confirmation. Name: Sona.
"Anyway, I won't keep you; I know these messages aren't cheap, especially from a payphone. You know where to reach me."
Secure lines unavailable, but may access dropbox locations.
"So I'll talk to you later, then. Tell Mom I said hi."
Sign-off code for agent Mazen, Picket-Fence.
As Picket hangs up the receiver, he sees an incoming communication from Jamee, and steps back out into the streets before answering.
"Ensign Mazen, go ahead."
Was kind of angling for interaction with Tuber and waiting on responses there, but perhaps I didn't telegraph that enough. C'est la vie. I assumed that Jamee contacted the crew as implied just to get back in the thick of things, but I can edit that as necessary and just say that I return to the ship (or attempt to!) instead. I don't have any comms gear marked, but I assume we have some available for crew members; I can mark adventuring gear for it if need be.
Re: Shan City's danger, I should probably highlight this move from my Eternal Marks list: "A scar burning - this scar glows and burns when you are in danger." I assume the danger needs to be fairly imminent, and that the pain doesn't provide Spider-Sense-y instinctive insight into what the danger actually is. Scar runs down his face between his eyes, for the record.
