They tried voice again, stupidly, like people who refuse to accept obvious facts.
"Hello? Hello? Is my mic— hello?" one barked into the void, his tone jumping up with each failed syllable. He jabbed at his push-to-talk like a man trying to get a stubborn door to open. On his end he could hear nothing different, but the channel was empty. The little gray mic icon sat mute and smug.
"Dude, I can't hear anyone," another muttered, voice growing panicked. "My headset's fine— see? I unplugged it and plugged it back in. Reconnected. What the hell?"
The most theatrical one flapped his hands and tried to salvage charm out of the situation. "Yo, MoonZhi? Did you— can you—?" He trailed off because no soft, angelic voice answered him. For a few seconds he kept pretending he hadn't been muted, kept hitting his mic as if urgency could force sound through thin air.
