mnt_raph: (Not Amused)
Raphael ([personal profile] mnt_raph) wrote2006-04-06 12:46 pm

[OOM: On the roof, in a tent that dreams of being a studio apartment...]

*Raph is attempting to feed himself. No it's not the act of eating that has him flummoxed, it's the part that comes before the eating that seems to continually get the better of him. Cooking is not Raph's friend. This is why there's a still slightly smoldering pot in the kitchen sink, and why he's grumbling as he eats his sandwich on the couch of the living room portion of his studio. Only slightly louder than his cantankerous mutterings is the sound of the Wizard Wireless off in the corner. Holyhead Harpies are playing Pride of Portree*

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 10:29 am (UTC)(link)
If Raph was concentrating really hard with those hypertrained ninja senses, he'd pick up... nothing. Just the sounds of the night outside. No giveaway patches of moving silence. No obvious black shapes against the starry sky. Nothing.

Even if he was looking. Which he's not.

Until, of course, there's the small explosion that marks a dung bomb going off, punctuated by a short, sharp scream.

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 10:49 am (UTC)(link)
And there is Jocasta, sitting flat on her arse in her black silk training uniform, looking only slightly dishevelled under the dung and holding up a hand to shield her eyes.

"Good evening, sir!"

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 10:58 am (UTC)(link)
"Wiggs, sir!" She says, waving brightly. "Jocasta Wiggs! Sorry to disturb you, sir!"

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 11:03 am (UTC)(link)
"Practising, sir!" she says. Roofs are fair game. Everyone knows that. "I wasn't expecting exploding faeces, I must say!"

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 11:07 am (UTC)(link)
"Stealth, sir! Stealth and agility. It's jolly clever of you. how did you set it up?"

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 11:20 am (UTC)(link)
"Jocasta Wiggs," she repeats, and on cue, becomes just slightly less happy. "Oh, I say, magic's a bit unsporting, isn't it?"

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 11:30 am (UTC)(link)
She stands now, brushing at her uniform to get off most of the lumps. "Oh no, sir! I'm an Assassin! If I pass my exams, of course."

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 11:36 am (UTC)(link)
"That's right!"

OK, that may sound a little patronising, the way she seems to be congratulating him for the deduction. It's not meant to be.

"I am sorry about that. I must be out of practice."

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 11:55 am (UTC)(link)
"I'd be ever so grateful, thank you, sir." She says, and steps forward, not-quite-silently, but with the practiced ease of someone who makes just the right amount of noise to be unnoticeable. This time she sets off no traps.

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 12:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Jocasta takes that as an invitation and moves forward more confidently, stepping into the tent cautiously...

...and this will be your standard 'holy crap look at this thing' reaction. With an impressed look. "Oh I say, a magic tent!"

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 12:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Still standing in the doorway, she catches the towel one handed and proceeds to carefully wipe herself down, starting with the shoes to avoid treading in... well, crap.

"Thank you very much," she repeats. "I am sorry to impose on you like this."

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 12:27 pm (UTC)(link)
This is Jocasta blushing BRIGHT PINK, as she takes the clothes off him.

"Well, thank you very much," she says, and even if he was looking for eye contact, he wouldn't get any. "I... uh... is there somewhere I can go?"

[identity profile] treadingturds.livejournal.com 2006-04-06 12:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"Thankyou!"

It's almost a squeak, and she races to the bathroom to avoid embarrassment, even if the door closes quietly behind her.