milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Then there is me, that is Alex. I had just ittied back from some of the starry ultra-violence, and decided a cold milk-plus would by a dobby ending to the nochy, so Your Humble Narrator slides into a booth, and soviets a cold odin.

{OOC: I'm attempting to play Alex in first person, so this very well might be bloody shambles. :D}

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"I'll take your word for it," says Random wryly, and decides it's best not to ask.

"I noticed she looked banged up."

"Yes, brother. What did you expect from your little brother?"
And YHN winks at him, brothers, and peets his moloko.

"Nothing less, love."

He grins.

"She's something. If you hit her, you'll manage just fine."

He seems not to pony, so YHN corrects him. "I did hit her, and I kept my own in the following drat. What did you think I was govoreeting about, dear brother?"

Maybe he turned all my slovos around, inside his own rassoodock.

"It was more an affirmation than a question. 'Since you hit her' would have been more clear. I'm not in an excellent head space right now."

He shakes his head, as though to get the blood flowing.

"Ah, no worries, brother."

and now, I'm wondering about the teammate I haven't yet met. "Is Mary Anne much different?"

"Blonde. American. Sharper sense of humour, bedroom eyes."

Different. Similar and different.

I think to myself, I decide to goloss my messel. "If the dva got in a drat, who would win?"

"Depends with what. Hand to hand? Fair. AJ with a handheld. Mary Anne's crack on with a rifle or a knife. And she goes armed."

He laughs.

"Got her a bikini and a rifle both for Christmas."

YHN smecks real gromky at that. "Horrorshow," I govoreet with a wink.

I peet my moloko a tomtick more, and govoreet to my big brother, "I've never liked guns. I've used them a bit, but prefer the starry ultra-violence to point-and-kill drats."

"Mary Anne, you don't want her near you with the long one. She can get anything."

Random says nothing about himself.

"If it were me, I'd prefer her nearer, than far away, when she has a pooshka." I govoreet to Big Alex, with another wink. "I make it a point to avoid such things."

"She's great company, though. Taste for the good kind of tequila and a good shoulder."

If you need one.

I nod as my brother govoreets, and drain the rest of the moloko. I stand to itty home, to me little bediwed and spat and have sweet sneeties. I nod and govoreet, "I shall check with AJ in the morrow, but I must itty and spat. Dobby nochy to you, O my brother."

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