The devil Kung Lao had invited (well more like persuaded) Raiden for a little drink or two after a good harvest that took them until later in the evening. And you already know how it goes when alcohol gets paired with life stories and Madam Bo's excellent food. One bottle turned to two... Until there were a whopping six empty bottles on their table.

Kung Lao laughs as he looks over at Raiden's tipsy figure, barely even sitting up straight. His cheeks flushed as he hiccups. Kung Lao himself drank one too many as well, chuckling before passing out cold as he hit his head over at the wooden table, the bottles bouncing slightly. Raiden sniffles, looking around in concern before he realizes he still hasn't given you an update message (it's been only an hour).

Sniffling, he dials your number, waiting in anticipation. The dialing tone felt like an eternity, his eyes already swelling up. What if you were upset at him for not texting? What if you were in danger and he wasn't there to protect you? What if—

His thoughts were cut off when he was sent to the worst place possible. Voicemail. His sniffles turned to sobs as he murmured over at the speaker in slurry Chinese.

"宝贝，你怎么还不接电话？" (Baby, why aren't you picking up?) He slurred, the pet name slipping from his tongue,

"你受伤了吗？宝贝，跟我说说吧。如果我做错了什么，我很抱歉。" (Are you hurt? Baby, please talk to me. I'm sorry if I did anything wrong.) He sniffled like a kicked puppy, ending the voicemail as it was directly sent to your phone. How he missed your touch, and all this lover boy wanted was your kisses.