mnt_raph | (no subject)

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Raph's shoulders droop as he stands outside the front door to the Tortise.
It's been nearly two weeks since he told Abigail that he'd be right back. Boy was he mistaken. What was supposed to be a simple return to Milliways for a Security shift became...well far more than that.

Originally he stayed at Milliways out of fear of not wanting to have to explain the magic of the bar to Abigail. Of course if asked he merely said that it was because he was sure he'd change back if only he stuck around for Mike's B Birthday. When that day came and went he started to grow...shall we say a bit concerned.

A bit quickly turned to a whole lot concerned the morning he woke up in Mike's spare bedroom to find that his brother attempting to wrap him head to toe in tinfoil, muttingering something about carbonite and the bounty Jabba had promised in exchange for his safe delivery. Things only got exponentially worse from there.

Raph cringes as he recollects just how bad "worse" actually was.
In the end it wasn't fear of Abigail that kept Raph away, but rather fear of what would happen to Mike if he didn't stay.
Thankfully Leo showed up.

"...never thought I'd be thinkin' that again, that's for damn sure," he mutters to himself, pushing the front door open.

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Oh. That right there? That's the textbook definition of NOT FAIR. He was already swallowing hard watching her take a bite out of his meal. The question punctuated by the innocent blink?

That's just down right evil, is what that is.

"Excuse me for a second?"

With no more warning than that, Raph shifts his weight on the stool so as to stand on the seat. He places his index finger and thumb in his mouth, and with a whistle that comes standard with every native New Yorker, he gains the attention of everyone in the room.

"FIRE! Everyone out! Move it! NOW!"

The room quiets quickly, and several jumpy individuals follow orders. A whistle like that can't be ignored, and the people who haven't already figured out Raph's identity look at him with new, grudging respect.

But they also keep drinking, albeit quietly. Waiting to see what happens next.

Abigail starts to grin, then laugh, until she sways to her feet and adds her own voice to the cause.

"You heard the man. That ale'll burst into flames afore you do. Go on, now. Out, and there'll be a drink on the house for everyone here on the morrow."

Thomas can kill her later. Much later.

As far as Raph is concerned Thomas can kill them both, if he wants. So long as the killing doesn't happen until the far side of later.

"It'll be real hard to cash in on those free rounds if you've gotta hobble back on busted legs, is all I'm sayin'. Now get."

Apparently that is more than enough incentive. The room clears in astonishing time.

Abigail leans against a table and boldly runs her eyes up his torso. And back down.

"Well, then."

She smiles.

Well if she's going to do that, then Raph is going to wait a second or two more before stepping down from his perch.

"Gosh, I thought they'd never leave."
Raph was never so good at playing the innocent card.

The smile becomes a knowing smirk.

"Some of 'em need the right persuasion."

She returns to the stew and, after another bite, licks the spoon.

"You showin' off up there for my benefit or are you comin' back down?" she asks, slanting another look at him that doesn't seem to make it higher than his backside. "Your food's gettin' cold."

"I dunno. Am I? I mean, I wouldn't wanna ruin your show or nothin'."

Oh yeah, he sees that leering.

It's hard to miss.

Right now, Abigail thinks he's looking a little too proud of himself, preening about on that stool, and Thomas won't keep busy in the kitchen forever.

What to do, what to do.

"Stay then."

Adding an extra little hip swing, Abigail walks to the front of the stool and tilts her head back, smiling at him, as her hands slide up his calves.

"Me, I was just concerned your balance might be off, what with your new build."

"Never," he manages without his voice catching in the slightest. Oh sure, it's just one word, but all things considered? That's still quite the achievement.

Of course, the achievement kind of loses its luster since he persists in talking. "Ain't so much new, as it is different."

"'Tis new to me," she insists, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

That explains her unmistakable curiosity, surely.

Abigail starts to circle him, trailing a finger along the back of his knee. And then she's gone, whistling a cheery tune as she gathers dirty dishes off a table behind him.

Raph waits until she's a few feet away before he allows himself to succumb to the full body shudder that her touch often inspires. Once that's over and done with, and his macho airs have been put back into place, he steps down from his perch, landing without a sound on the tavern floor.

Raph turns, and for a few seconds merely watches Abigail as she continues on with her show straightening up.

He sighs an action that only serves to temporarily move his already unruly hair off his forehead.

"A'right. Enough of this."
Raph approaches Abigail and lifts her easily into a fireman's carry.
"Com'on. We're goin'. Ain't you heard? it ain't safe to be in here tonight."

Entirely used to this, if not entirely comfortable, Abigail shifts so she can slap his rear with a rag.

"Ooooh, this is lovely," she announces sarcastically. "You can carry me this way without worryin' about your back goin' out."

She turns her head and aims an evil grin over her shoulder, not that he'll see it.

"And won't Cloud be glad!"

Next time they go on 'vacation' (which is what she was getting at earlier), Raph might even be able to ride his pony.

"If you'd rather we could go out to the stables and ask him. I mean, that's entirely your call there." Oh he may say it's her call, but he's not changing course, and the destination he's moving towards is no where near the stables.

"No," Abigail replies, doing something to the back of his shirt so she can get her hands on his skin, "we paid Cloud's usual stall, and the hay loft, and that dark corner of the paddock a lengthy visit when you were here last."

Can he hear her smirk?

"Did we?" he asks punctuating his question with a firm, yet gentle, smack on her behind. Something about the action jogs his memory. "Oh, no wait...yeah, I remember that. Good times. Okay so not the barn."

Here he pauses. He was on his way towards the kitchen...

"Weren't we in the kitchen the time before that?"

"Was that you?" asks Abigail, sweetly.

"Oh ho ho ho ho. The lady thinks she's a comedian. It better have been, for your sake." This time he turns his head and plants a kiss on the only part of her that he can reach from this angle.

"Lady? What -- watch where you're walkin' -- What lady would this be, then?"

Letting out a delighted snort, she wiggles on his shoulder in order to pull his shirt up more.

"Aye, I remember the kitchen now. All that flour. Least there's more room than in storage. Had a crick in my neck for weeks," she adds, solemnly, and lifts her head to check on their progress.

"Yeah, that weren't our best idea ever," he's forced to admit. Such a sight they must be. Standing there in the middle of the main tavern room, both trying to find clever ways of removing the others clothing.

"Okay. I got it. We got an entire tavern to pretty much ourselves, right? Free reign. Let's go somewhere we ain't been in ages."

Beat.

"Bedroom? Yours I mean."

Why Abigail loves Raph, reason number twenty-six: the man can be beastly intelligent when he puts his mind to it.

"Bedroom," she says at almost exactly the same time, starting in on his pants.

After all, there was really only one possible answer.

"What're you waitin' for? Now get!"

"Yes, Ma'am," he says with a cackle that is more like a deep rumble in his chest than anything else. And well, if she's going to start in on his already ill-fitting pants, then surely she won't mind if his hand starts to feel its way up under the hem of her skirt. Right?

She doesn't mind at all. In fact, given her reaction, she probably wouldn't mind even if the room was still full. Blood rushing to her head, she laughs and squirms some more, making it harder for him to walk with his pants drooping that way, and almost flails as she feels her weight shift and slide back.

"Careful," she warns, tone allowing for no mistakes. Her not minding doesn't extend to being dropped on her head.

"Yes," someone adds, dryly.

Abigail's head jerks sideways and the toes of two boots come into sight. Slowly, lips twitching, her eyes travel from boots to legs to -- oh, Goddess -- to the scowling visage of her dear brother Thomas.

Her dear brother Thomas who is casually holding a pail of dirty kitchen water, as if he hasn't quite decided what to do with it.

"Throw that, brother mine, and you'll be wishin' for the Dark God by dawn," she barks.

Thomas bares his teeth in a wicked grin.

Very slowly Raph turns towards Thomas. His eyes narrow.

"If you're even thinkin' what I think you're thinkin'? Know in your heart: I will end you where you stand."

You don't want to be ended by a guy nearly losing his pants, do you Thomas?

...

Wait, don't answer that.

There's a moment when Thomas eyes them and is less sure than he'd been earlier that this younger, hairier man is Raph, but the voice and eyes banish that thought.

Not to mention the way his sister is still trying to remove Raph's leggings. A brother can overlook a great deal, he's found, but this is all a bit much. In the common room. Honestly.

He lowers his arm and swings the pail back and forth until water sloshes over the side. "The satisfaction might be worth it," he decides. "Can you not take this somewhere else?"

Abigail unwisely laughs at him, thinking of all the other nearby places they'd taken it in the past, and finds herself flicked with water.

"He's just jealous," she says, doing her best to pat Raph's shoulder.

"What'd you think we were doin' before you went an' stopped us?"

Yeah, he knows how dumb that sounds. Sadly he had to hear himself say it before he realized just how dumb that sounds.