ic inbox

[rathercommon]

crystal | letter | cease and desist notices slipped under her door | action

Comments

[rathercommon]

I -

[ Oh. Color comes into her cheeks. ]

Then why did you say - all that!

[exsecutus]

I assumed you'd not take it seriously. Why would you.

[rathercommon]

Why would I expect you to tell the truth?

[exsecutus]

I told you from the start, I'm in a good mood. Not my fault you didn't take that to heart.

[rathercommon]

So when you're in a good mood you lie.

[exsecutus]

Joke. Don't be bitter because you misread.

[rathercommon]

You're terrible at jokes.

[shri]

You've never had to be concerned with one. Believe me, there aren't fewer. There are more. Because the consequences mean a lot more to those in power than a court of law which they can bribe their way out of.

[rathercommon]

Oh, please. People in power just do what they want.

[shri]

Kitty. You are assuming, not watching. What have I said about that in combat?

[exsecutus]

And you're a terrible audience.

[Though now he's thinking of Marisol, which causes a twist deep in him. It can't be helped. He takes one final swallow of rum to clear it, and shoves the flask back in place.]

And a worse runner. Next time we need a letter delivered, we'll leave you behind.

[rathercommon]

I -

[ That stings. ]

It wasn't - It wasn't cause I'm a bad runner.

[exsecutus]

Good. Perhaps you can prove it.

In fifty year's time.

[rathercommon]

Fifty -

[ With an incredulous little cry - ]

Fifty years? What happened to, oh, you keep fighting and that's good? What, now I'm not allowed to fight with you?

[exsecutus]

[yeah that's right don't get comfortable with that encouragement]

Fighting isn't running.

[rathercommon]

Running's easier than fighting.

[exsecutus]

Then take it as a compliment.

[rathercommon]

That's not a compliment. That's a slightly-less-nasty insult.

[exsecutus]

And that's as good as you're going to get from me, so be satisfied.

[rathercommon]

Ugh. Sometimes I wonder why I even talk to you.

[exsecutus]

Mm. If you've nothing else to say--

[He makes sure that his flask is secure, that it's not going to fall and break and maybe spill everywhere, it is far too precious for that fate.]

I'll take my leave of you.

action;

[reshapes]

There are certain visitors one might expect to find upon opening the door to their narrow little accommodations in the Gallows which might be considered unpleasant but wouldn't necessarily be wholly unexpected. Spiders? Certainly. Flies and gnats? In the summer heat, Kitty should be thankful every shadowy corner isn't crawling with them. Maybe even a big obnoxious seagull right there on the ledge of the window left cracked in an attempt to cool the room, whooping and hollering at its competition swirling endlessly wing over wing over the high towers. And then there is the visitor she has: a great tawny lioness sprawled the length of the unmade bed.

Hours ago, having entered the room through that open window in the guise of an unnaturally large grackle, he'd taken this form with the intention of sitting in the center of the room and showing her all his teeth the moment she came through the door. But the effort of holding this shape in the interim combined with the alteration he'd done to take it over that of the bird, has driven him to the indignity of exhaustion as he raises the lioness' head now and curls back its upper lip for a measly flash of one or two long fangs.

"Alright," he growls. For those wondering, it is a very fullthroated, caramel-y type of rumble. It most certainly does not betray any of the effort he's gone through for this, or speak to any doubts he has concerning his ability to pounce on her should she turn to run. Really. "Out with it. Which dark pit have you pushed him down?"

[rathercommon]

She wishes she could pretend that she's not terrified at the sight of the beast. Especially since - well - that's really not the most impressive lion she's ever seen, not by far. Kind of pathetic and ragged, really. But even a pathetic, ragged lion is more than enough to rip her limb from limb.

Bartimaeus' voice, issuing from the creature's mouth, is hardly any sort of reassurance, either. After all, as she's reminded constantly, she hardly even knows him. And he certainly doesn't ever seem particularly warmly inclined towards her. Case in point. And yet even so - even so, she's got to be perfectly polite to him, hasn't she.

So when she sees him stirring on her bed, she fights hard to keep herself from grabbing at her dagger, or going for the silver pendant in her pocket. Instead, she just clenches her fists, and takes in a level breath to keep from yelling in fear, and says, "I don't know what you're talking about. Which dark pit have I pushed who down?"

[reshapes]

"A likely story," gasps the lioness from the bed. It would be more impressive if it were to gather its back legs beneath it in this moment in preparation to pounce, but let's not open the floor for critique. He'll be the one making pointed accusations here, thank you very much. "Don't pretend you haven't been keeping tabs on Mandrake since the moment he arrived. What do you take me for?"

[rathercommon]

"I've been busy lately," she snaps. Which isn't untrue. And - well - keeping tabs on him had seemed less of a priority of late, honestly. No real reason. He'd just...proven himself to be not quite as dreadful here as he'd been back home. That's all. It wasn't trust or anything like that, just -

She turns her attention to the animal. "Why?" Kitty asks. "Where is he?"