milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

There is a new(ish) wench inside the bar
Tonight, that's not been seen
Before within this space, and likely
Will not be seen again too soon.

Ned Poins hath known the favour of a god
Upon a feast that suits for suchlike things
And waits to see the outcome of his trick.

Also, fieryTrigon is signed on,
As Poins has not yet found out how
The thing is turned off.-

[[OOC: Thread where Poins is changed still in progress, but I promise we will get there!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Of course I do!" Autor says, flustered. "Er."

Does the 'intellectually' even need to be said?

"Thou," Poins says, "art a virgin, there is no denying!"

She says so with great triumph.

"So?" Autor asks, flattering Poins with a blank stare. He's not defensive about this, surprisingly.

"It must be remedied!" Poins says.

"Wait, what?" Autor says, blinking. "Why?"

He huffs. "I don't understand what the big deal is. There are other means of conquest."

"But ne'er a means of pleasure quite like that, and sorry monk the man that passed it up!" Poins says.

"Then sorry monk I may be," Autor says pleasantly, "well-suited for ora et labora, as you yourself declared so long ago."

"But I could free thee of it!" she declares, smiling.

"Alas, alack," Autor says, looking around. "It seems I have nothing to throw at you."

"Thou couldst well throw me kisses?" she giggles.

"What!" Autor says, closing his eyes and sticking his nose in the air. That damn blush is back. "You've no grievous injury and I'm not your mother; what need have you for my kisses?"

Edited 2013-02-22 23:31 (UTC)

"Dost thou no know of kisses, beyond a mother's nurturing?" Poins says, pretending shock.

I.. don't remember those, either.

Autor peeks at him. "You're surprised. Really," he says, playing into Poins' game. "I would have thought you'd have developed a way of sensing these things about a person!"

"How may I have a friend that is thus innocent," Poins says, "and yet keep my repute of great corruptor?"

Autor cackles. "We shall just have to see who wins, then!"

"Thou art as resolute about thy maidenhood as any real maiden!" Poins accuses him.

"That's funny, coming from the real maiden in the conversation," Autor says, smiling softly as he gets to his feet.

"Who says I am a maiden?" Poins grins.

Autor turns his head as his face rivals a solar flare.

He fidgets, adjusting his glasses. "I can't comment on your anatomy, Poins"--Ach mon Gott why I am saying this--"because I'm not quite sure how that would translate when it comes to spellery, especially of Loki's type, and... oh, hells, why are you even... Gah!"

Needless to say, he buries his face in his hands.

"All is right where it should be," Poins assures him, blithely. "But used or unused, that is the question!"

"And not one I should be asking!" Autor sputters.

He's not going to shriek at her--him--Poins. He won't.

"But thou must ask it, wouldst thou state am I a maid or no!" Poins giggles.

"I meant that you were a woman, not.. Look, I'd better not be the only one you've tortured while wearing this shape," Autor says.

"Not every woman may be called a maiden; and not every maiden, even, truly is!" Poins laughs. "And no, indeed, I torture all the comers as one fain would that is both wench, and Poins!"

Including even Prince Hal.

"Then no doubt you could be discovering blushes on other people's faces," Autor says, straightening his blazer. "Mine seems to have filled its quota."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only