A deeply disturbing suspicion begins to form in the back of Abigail's mind. Gritting her teeth, she takes her own katana and stalks after Raph. When he's leaned over poking at a shrub, she helpfully pokes him in the rear, right in the middle of a red heart.
She'll never understand his 'boxers.' They are ostentatious, and nowhere near as sensible as a good loincloth!
"There's no wind to carry it far and it's not here," she insists. "Where are your breeches?"
Someone is a bit grumpy about the direction their afternoon has taken.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 02:41 pm (UTC)She'll never understand his 'boxers.' They are ostentatious, and nowhere near as sensible as a good loincloth!
"There's no wind to carry it far and it's not here," she insists. "Where are your breeches?"
Someone is a bit grumpy about the direction their afternoon has taken.