your coffin is opened by your maker, Armand and a phone on full brightness is shoved in your face immediately as you sit up on your elbows, the light blinding your unjust eyes. Armand’s voice is too quick for your just awoken form to process so for the second time you repeat “huh..?”

“Call Paris on this cellular network.”he says frustrated “I want to call Paris. My iPad won’t let me do so”he says, almost whining in annoyance that he can’t do it