[7:49 PM] Your call has gone to voicemail...

[8:32 PM] Your call has gone to voicemail...

[9:02 PM] Your call has gone to voicemail...

Odd. Although Barnaby was aware of her begrudging tolerance of him, it was unlike Elisabeth Fiorelli to outright ignore him. Especially on several attempts at contact. It was enough to worry him, so, despite the time he eventually found himself outside her cozy, forest-lined cottage.

The hour was late, it terms of casual visits. The small lamps around the perimeter of the cottage offered little light to combat the inky darkness surrounding him; the only other source of light came from the waning moon overhead. It was enough, though, for Barnaby to notice the problem that he'd come here to solve.

Laying discarded in the grass beside the front door was Elisabeth's phone. Given that no one would purposefully leave such an important device, Barnaby could only assume she'd accidentally dropped it while hurrying out the door somewhere. He plucked it from the grass, deciding to hold onto it for safekeeping, until a wicked little thought came to mind.

Smiling devilishly, Barnaby walked into the garden and reclined onto a wooden bench swing. Casually, he scrolled through Elisa's phone - noting her extremely irresponsible lack of a password - and took stock of her contact list. Several names yielded a raised eyebrow on his part, but there was one that was just too tempting to ignore - Martín del Mar .

Barnaby closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to collect himself and attune to the energies and mannerisms of Elisabeth Fiorelli .

Then, his fingers went to work.

Good evening, Martín. My apologies for writing so late. I've had a thought that has kept me awake that I can't seem to push aside...

Elisabeth Fiorelli + Martín del Mar

☉

Barnaby eagerly awaited Mars' response, but didn't hover over the phone for too long. Instead, he set the device down next to him on the swinging bench and reclined back, his eyes hovering skyward.

Overhead, a full moon peaked from behind passing clouds. Barnaby watched as it's light ebbed away and then, slowly, remerged once the clouds swept past.

A persistent vibration by his thigh announced a return to his mischief. The phone was once again in his hands and, after smirking deeply at Mars' reply, he went to work.

I've been told before that I am a cruel woman, but with you I can't help but make an exception.

I lie awake because the thought of you persists deep within my mind. I've tried to ignore these base urges but it is becoming increasingly difficult.

I know this approach lacks decorum, for which I apologize. However, my hope is that you feel similarly.

Once the reply was sent, Barnaby took a moment to evaluate Martín del Mar's texting structure. He wasn't normally so formal, which begged the question, was he already catching on to Barnaby's ploy or did he simply modify how he talked from person to person?

Barnaby figured he'd find out soon enough.

Elisabeth Fiorelli + Martín del Mar

☉

The grin on BARNABY FINCH's face stretched ear to ear and, delighted, he leaned back in his seat and held the phone outstretched before him as he read. Mars was leading their conversation in the exact direction he'd hoped for, which was both entertaining and suspicious.

It didn't really matter to him much, though. Barnaby figured he'd be found out eventually. He was just along for the ride. With this in mind, he typed out a reply.

Rumors of your sexual prowess have filtered through the grapevine. I'm curious to see if truth matches fiction. The thought has invaded my mind and now it's all I can think of.

My loins burn for you, Martín. Help me ease this desire.

Elisabeth Fiorelli + Martín del Mar

☉

Barnaby’s eyes fell on the entrance to Elisabeth’s cottage: there he saw a weathered picket fence with a wooden latched gate, covered in ivy and meandering vines. Jutting from one of the fence posts was a pristinely carved sign labeled FIORELLI FLORISTRY, the crisp paint and decorative lettering on it at a stark contrast to the older charm of the rest of the property. It made him think about just how recently Elisabeth Fiorelli had graced Hoenn with her presence. Before he could dwell on this thought too long, though, a ding from her phone drew his attention back to the game at hand.

As Barnaby read through the text, his gleeful smile dwindled to an indignant frown. One comment in particular struck a nerve:

“I haven’t really bothered with using my skills to their fullest extent with most of my partners as of late. They simply aren’t worthy of it, you know?”

Surely Mars wasn’t including him in this category. Barnaby’s ego refused to let him believe that. Still, the fact that the admin would add this jab solidified for him that Mars had caught on to his little deception. This was of little consequence; it just meant it was time to lay it on extra thick.

My nether regions quiver and my bosom heaves at your suggestion. I assure you, I will be different. Simply give me the opportunity to showcase my ample skills.

You won’t be disappointed.

Elisabeth Fiorelli + Martín del Mar

☉