(no subject)

[mnt_raph]

Raph is seated on the living room floor, his back resting against the arm of the couch. Strewn about on the floor before him is a wide arch magazines. Some are about motorcycles, others about martial arts weapons, but mostly they're fitness magazines.

In the background the dulcet tones of Shaolin Soccer can be heard.

Comments

[mnt_raph]

Raph chuckles.

"That's some sick shit, that is. An' people wonder why I ain't been down in for-freakin'-ever."

Someone is pleased by the inconvenience of others.

[mnt_raph]

"Not that I've seen. 'Course, I ain't really been lookin'. She's quieter than Mike is, an' I'm kind of diggin' the vacation from his yappin'."

[evil_koala_626]

Despite being slightly spooked concerned by the prospect of a wandering Bar, Stitch snickers quietly as well. Snickering is contagious.

"Bar's not here?" He offers a shrug and points to the doorway. No real point in sticking around then. He's on a mission.

[mnt_raph]

Raph shrugs in return. Not caring if the freakish blue thing stays or goes. He's got quiet and a whole crap load of magazines to get through.
It's the simple things, really.

"Not that I've seen. 'Course, I ain't really been lookin'. She's quieter than Mike is, an' I'm kind of diggin' the vacation from his yappin'."

[evil_koala_626]

"Emba-chua." Whatever, dude.

Stitch turns and scuttles towardthe door, nose close to the ground.

[mnt_raph]

"Yeeeaaah, right back'atcha. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Sheesh, weirdies.

[evil_koala_626]

Stitch grumbles a few choice words about the man's grandmother as the door closes.