(no subject)

[lapwing]

[On the network is what appears to be a young boy, about 12 or 13 years old. For a moment, he stares quite soulfully at the video output impossibly deep, black eyes, and then pokes at the screen with one fingernail.]

Not even a proper imp in there, how's that for you...?

[He pulls back and mimes clearing his throat. A voice far, far more booming than is fit for the child's face resounds across the feed.]

Right, broadcast. AHEM. This is just a friendly, non-suspicious question, inquiring on when the next coup or violent overthrow of this government is going to be. Not that I'm actually advocating it, I just know you humans really can't resist.

I'm pretty handy with a popcorn machine if anyone can provide good seats.

Comments

[rathercommon]

[ Her mouth thins, but she actually relaxes at that response. At least he doesn't seem hurt. ]

That'd just make people more curious.

[ A hesitation, then - ]

And...If it were just me - then all right. But...Nathaniel.

[lapwing]

[ Too practical on that count to be hurt, he'd claim. ]

I'm not following.

[rathercommon]

Well, he's been here before. In this world. People knew him.

[lapwing]

And I'm sure he was charming and popular by the simply act of dressing like a greased quilt and black and darkness and trying really, really hard to be mysterious.

Or are we talking about the part of the story where he was like "oh I'm going to be a dumb and idiot master at the very last minute." I mean, not that he was't all along, but it was a pretty phenomenal height of someone should dye all of his clothes canary yellow and make him wear a sign saying "Ask Me About My Parental Issues and Chronic Halitosis" sort of idiot.

[ Maybe there's some feelings there. One or two. ]

[rathercommon]

[ She arches her eyebrows at him and waits till he's done. Once he is, firmly: ]

And it might upset his friends for me just to chat about how he died.

[lapwing]

Yeah. I don't care.

[ The fox whuffs, shakes his fur and curls back up huffily. ]

But this still smells a lot like redirection. You don't want to talk about these issues at all so lets hide behind a much easier to moralize issue.

[rathercommon]

[ Redirecting: ]

Oh, yeah, 'cause you're one to talk about avoidance.

[lapwing]

I'm rubber and you're glue.

[rathercommon]

...What?

[lapwing]

Never heard that one? It finished off with "Everything you say bounces off of me and sticks to you."¹

[rathercommon]

Ugh. If you're going to be avoidant, at least be witty.

[lapwing]

[ The fox grins. ] Rubber and glue.

[rathercommon]

[ What. ]

Excuse you! I'm very witty!

[lapwing]

Oh. Right.

[ He crosses his arms. ]

Go on, change topics and make me laugh doing it.

[rathercommon]

[ That brings her up a little short. She isn't wrong - she is quite witty - but mostly when she's not trying. Wit on cue is...not her thing. ]

Erm. Well - that's - a silly thing to ask for.

[lapwing]

[ It was absolutely impossible¹, which was exactly why he picked it.

He modulates his tone to Tragically Disappointed.]

So I see...

[rathercommon]

[ Ooh. She can tell what he's - largely because any time he's actually sad, he damn well doesn't sound it. ]

Right, let's hear yours, then.

1/3

[lapwing]

Be prepared to be amazed, Kitty Jones. On the absolute comedic wit and subject changing prowess than 5000 years and vast intellect gives one.

[lapwing]

AHEM.

[lapwing]

[ The bird folds a wing in front of it, finger feathers pressed just below his beak. In the tiniest helium voice: ]

I, Rupert Devereaux, welcome you all here to this glorious evening ball, put together, at no little expense and with the greatest delicacies and oddities that the west Indian Trade and subjugation of the trousers from last Tuesday...

[rathercommon]

[ Oh, damn it all. In spite of her best intentions to keep a severe, straight face, she starts giggling about halfway through. ]

Okay, stop, stop -

[lapwing]

[ The bird settles, preening. Frankly, Bartimaeus' normal voice doesn't make this guise any better. ]

As I was saying...

[rathercommon]

Oh, god, and what is that hideous form?

[lapwing]

They're called Poor-Me-Ones... mostly because they sound like this.

[ Please enjoy the best bird call ever. ]

[rathercommon]

...What a horrible sound.