Elliot = Bold

Isabella = Italics

"Hey...um...is the same girl that called a couple of minutes ago?"

"Yeah. It...it is."

"Oh thank all things holy. I wasn't entirely sure how this thing worked. I mean, I was half certain that if I called back the same number I might get a different person."

"No...no. It's still me. I...I'm sorry for hanging up on you before. It was just a little-"

"Overwhelming?"

"Yeah...I guess you could say that. I...I'm not really used to people talking a whole lot. They kinda sorta go silent as soon as I walk into a room."

"Well, you're definitely not going to get that from me. I talk so much that most of the time people just wish I'd shut the hell up."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. I don't know what it is. Once I start I just can't seem to stop. Something about silence just really irritates me."

"You don't find silence peaceful?"

"No way. I just find it really awkward."

"But what if the person you're talking to would prefer to sit in silence?"

"Well, then they'll have to deal with it because I can't stand silence. I can't possibly see how someone can find silence peaceful. It's just plain awful. Just sitting there avoiding eye contact. Absolutely god-damned awful."

"...it's not so bad."

"Please don't tell me you're one of those people who likes silence."

"...I am."

"What? Why?"

"I...I don't know. It' s just kind of nice, you know? Gives a person time to think and evaluate the situation they're in."

"Wouldn't you prefer to fill the silence rather than sit in it?"

"Not...not really. Small talk isn't really my thing."

"Well, you're in luck."

"I am?"

"Uh-huh. You have just dialled the professor of small talk."

"I couldn't have possibly guessed."

"That sounded like sarcasm."

"It was. You're quite obviously a master of small talk."

"I am?"

"Of course you are."

"Prove it."

"We've been in this conversation for more than two minutes and neither of us has expressed why we called the helpline in the first place."

"Ah...you've got me sussed."

"You were delaying it on purpose?"

"Of course I was. How could you not realise that? I don't make small talk for no reason."

"You don't?"

"Of course not. What did you think small talk was for, just to fill the silence?"

"Well...yeah."

"Ah, my innocent, innocent girl, there you are very, very wrong."

"I...I am?"

"Uh-huh. Small talk is the act of avoiding the big conversation. Small talk is what people say to avoid talking about the things that really matter."

"Well, in that case, you certainly are a master of small talk."

"Why, because I just wasted another minute using small talk to explain what small talk was?"

"Exactly."

"Well, guess what? I don't think you want to go into the deep stuff either."

"Is it that obvious?"

"You were stuttering like crazy. You don't exactly seem like someone who's comfortable with expressing their deepest secrets."

"You got all of that just because I stuttered?"

"You bet. People stutter when they're nervous. Which means you're nervous about talking to someone about your problems."

"You're right...I...I am. Talking about my problems isn't something that comes naturally to me."

"It's called being human. But...I've got to ask...if you don't like talking to people about your problems then why did you call up a helpline?"

"I...I don't know. I guess I just thought it would be easier to talk to someone when you can't see their face."

"How does not seeing someone's face make it any different?"

"I...I guess it doesn't. It...it's just nice to talk to someone who doesn't know me, you know? Everyone sees me as this broken package that needs fixing and I...I don't want that. I just need someone to see me as me, not some broken girl who's afraid of everything around her. You get what I mean?"

"Yeah. I know the feeling."

"You do?"

"Yeah. My entire school looks at me like I'm some sort of wounded puppy."

"That's too bad. I think puppies are cute."

"..."

"Why are you laughing?"

"Damn. You really are bad at small talk."

"Was it that bad?"

"Oh god yeah. 'I think puppies are cute'. What even was that?"

"I...I'm sorry. I guess I need to take some lessons from you on how to small talk."

"Nah. You're alright."

"I am?"

"Yeah, I mean, despite the horrific puppy line, you did alright. You've somehow managed to go through this entire conversation without mentioning why you called up a helpline in the first place."

"Ah...I see. Using my own reasoning against me. Very clever."

"But...I'm not ready yet. I know called up this helpline but...I can't force myself, you know? It...it just doesn't feel right, you know?"

"Yeah...I feel the same way. I...I want to keep talking to you though."

"You do? What, have I finally become a womaniser?"

"NO!"

"..."

"Stop laughing."

"..."

"Hmph. I was going to give you a compliment as well."

"Really?"

"Yup. I was going to say how you, despite being a self-diagnosed blabbermouth, are actually really easy to talk to."

"You, despite being a self-proclaimed failure at small talk, just provided the best conversation I've had in a long time."

"Who'd have thought it? Helplines actually work."

"That's kind of the point..."

"I know that. Idiot."

"You're terrible at insulting people."

"I am not!"

"Idiot? Idiot? IDIOT? There are so many better insults you could have said. And you said it so half-heartedly as well. Almost as if you were afraid your mum was gonna come in and start yelling at you for insulting someone."

"Oh shut up."

"Gladly...are sure you wanna keep this whole helpline thing going? I mean, I want to but...I don't want to pressure you into anything that you're not ready for."

"Yeah...yeah. I'm sure."

"Alrighty then. I'm going to go off and write an english essay that was due in last week. But...as soon as I get the chance, I'll call you back. Deal?"

"Deal."