† RYSLIG- IC INBOX †

[goodolfashionedvillain]

 

 

 

 

INBOX text | audio | action & overflow

 

 

 

 

code by transilience

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[goodolfashionedvillain]

[Blinking innocently, waggling the cigarette-holding hand.]

I'm... smoking? [The quirk of a brow adding that unspoken "Obviously."]

Why would I leave the window closed? We always open it when we smoke.

[humblecowboy]

Yeah?

[He reaches over to take Vicious's wrist, lifting it so he can take a drag off the same cigarette. Health be damned.

He then starts to lean away, toward the window, to blow out the smoke.]

Guess I'll just check the kitchen, then.

Make sure nothing's still burning.

[goodolfashionedvillain]

[Goddamnit why is he like this. On the one hand, this is such a nice angle to view him from...

On the other, he hates how Fearless always manages to corner him like this. He's pretty sure if anything is left over, it's just a pot and few ashes... they should have all gone down the drain though!

He hopes.]

Alright. By all means.

[Scoffs and crosses his legs, turning his attention to the window again. He has to look unbothered. He's totally unbothered!]

So, where were you really?

[Yeah let's put the spotlight on Fearless! He seems just as suspicious!]

[humblecowboy]

Out.

[Sauntering over to the kitchen, Spike adds;]

Y'know the horses around here have hands?

[goodolfashionedvillain]

[S q u i n t.]

Horses don't have hands. Centaurs have hands. Satyrs, perhaps, if they're horses, but not horses.

[humblecowboy]

[Spike points at Vicious.]

Kelpies. They can be horses.

And they can have hands.

Worst thing I've ever seen.

[goodolfashionedvillain]

[Slow blink, followed by an equally slow nod.]

Right. And... did you see one of these before or after you nodded off on a public bench?

[Is this another giant crab situation?]

[humblecowboy]

Oh, she was real.

[Spike takes the time to inspect that pot, and the sink. There's something suspicious here...]

Turned into a teenage girl.

Can't figure out why they're the only ones who ever wanna fight me.

[goodolfashionedvillain]

[SNORT]

You're really getting too old for that, you know.

[Passing a super casual glance back to see if he's looking. And ugh, he is.]

"Can't figure it out"? Teenage girls have all sorts of pent up rage. Surely you remember that much.

[humblecowboy]

[jiggling Vicious's stupid-little-pot-thing in his hand as he asks;]

Why'd'they all gotta take it out on me?

[goodolfashionedvillain]

You have been punching-bag-shaped for about as long as I've known you.

[Trying so hard not to react to what he's found... let's just turn back towards the window again. Nothing to see here. So not bothered.]

And I mean, this time you did technically ask for it.

[humblecowboy]

Yeah, guess that much is true.

[Don't mind him sauntering over with that little cauldron to put it on the smoking table in front of Vicious.]

You usually make toast in a pot?