[His phone dings with a new message - the coordinates. Good.]
Got it. I'm on my way.
[He notes the address, shoves his phone in his pocket and pulls a sweater over his head, throws the window open, and is gone. He's a fast flier - it won't take him long to get there.]
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[ No use sugar coating it, really. Dylan struggles to keep his voice steady as he continues, but it still cracks just a bit.]
I... I think he'll be okay, but he was shot. We — other friends of his — we're at a clinic with him now.
He asked us to call you.
no subject
[The pinpoint focus comes in handy. His voice is tight when he speaks again.]
Give me coordinates and I'll be there. [Wait - civ.] Or an address.
no subject
[ He pulls out his own phone and opens the Maps app, copying both the address & coordinates into Hunter's phone and sending them over. ]
Okay, you should have them in a sec.
no subject
Got it. I'm on my way.
[He notes the address, shoves his phone in his pocket and pulls a sweater over his head, throws the window open, and is gone. He's a fast flier - it won't take him long to get there.]