You knew it wasn't healthy to carry around a cell phone constantly. Many tests and lots of research made it abundantly clear. But your phone was necessary, you only used it to text and call, you didn't care about all the fancy extra's on it. You did on occasion, make use of the phone's built-in camera. You had bought one similar to yours so your boyfriend Marty could get in touch with you when he needed to. He figured out the camera on it before you, it had been him that taught you how to use it. Both your and his phone were littered with couple pics and solo pictures of each other. He knew you hated your job, so he would often send you cute pictures to cheer you up while you were sitting at your desk dying of boredom.

You were at work one day, readjusting your itchy grey A-line skirt and matching jacket for the one-hundredth time, when you heard your custom ringtone for Marty sending you a message emanating from the drawer you kept it hid in on your desk. It was fairly slow today, and not many people were around, so you picked it up, tapping the message icon. The message read: "Hi, babe. I know your working hard, me and Snuggles just wanted to encourage you to do your best!" You smiled, scrolling down to see a picture of just the top of his head, from the bridge of his nose up, his favored plush unicorn perched on his curly mop of red hair. Even though you couldn't see his mouth, you knew he was smiling by the tell-tale crinkle marks in the corners of his turquoise blue eyes.

You giggled quietly and sent him a message back, thanking him and Snuggle's for thinking of you. You then put your phone back in your drawer, working on some paperwork. It's a few hours into your hellish job when he sends you another message, letting you know that he's made your favorite meal for dinner, as well as picked you up some chocolates. You send him a kissy icon, followed by the shortened version of the words thank you. You couldn't wait to get home and strip out of this itchy ass suit and eat and relax with Marty. That thought gives you a bit more energy over the next while. Receiving yet another message, you open it to find that the cheeky jerk had stole one of your chocolates, a picture of his mouth showed the evidence, caramel dripping down his lips that he was licking with a pink tongue, you could clearly see his scars now.

He was still a tad sensitive about them, particularly if some one out in public stared for to long, but he wasn't as uncomfortable and withdrawn as he used to be. You took the smirk painting his lips to be a tease for eating your candy while you couldn't do anything about it. You sent him a message back, saying that he was gonna get it once you got home. Your boss comes up to you, startling you as you quickly shove your phone into your bra, hiding it. Your boss informs you that you have to come to a meeting with everyone to discuss the numbers for the day. You nod, smoothing your hair back out of your face as you get up slowly, waiting for your boss to turn their back so you can turn the volume down on your phone. You follow the head honcho into the main room where they did presentations and meetings, every one of your co-workers was there, looking just as tired and bored as you.

You take a seat, making sure your skirt stays folded under you like it should, you rest your chin on your hands, watching the screen displaying how well the company was doing with mild interest. A little while into the meeting, you feel your phone vibrate, you turn in your chair, everyone was half-asleep or completely uncaring at this point so you go ahead and open the message. You feel a little confused when you first read the message. "Can't wait for you to cum home, babe~ ;)" You scroll down, and you know you scared the whole office, including people on the other levels of the tall building with how loud you yelped. There on the screen was Marty, Well, to be precise, Marty's lower body with a very prominent piece of his anatomy grasped by his scarred hand.

Blood rushes to your face as you cough, playing off your yelp like it was something to do with an illness. You tell your boss you already have enough info to go on, and you finished all your due paperwork, asking if you can go on home now. They hesitate for a moment before shooing you off. You can't get home fast enough.