maskormenace | (no subject)

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[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.

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[ Bartimaeus lifts his wings and spreads them out in a fair approximation of a shrug. ]

Oh, no problem. We'll come back when you've brushed up a touch.

Don't be an idiot. I'm not going to learn Sumerian.

You're missing out. Some of the most spot on insults get strung together in that one. You can't be lazy about them either because the assumption is that you're speaking about yourself unless you designate the target.

Worked amazingly for the occasional backfiring spell.

Bartimaeus, stop trying to change the subject, won't you? You're just trying to avoid it again.

It did work brilliantly for a bit though, you have to admit.

You can just admit you're too scared to talk about it.

I certainly would if that was even possibly, even remotely an issue.

Oh, yeah? 'Cause you're coming across kind of scared right now.

I am certainly not having this sort of a conversation on the wide open, and even if I was, I do know when someone's waving a red cape about. You can't bait me THAT easily.

[ Birds really can't cross their arms, but there's something in the way the beak lifts and tail sets that gives an AIR of finality. ]

All right. Let's have it in private, then.

... Fine.

[ There is a petulant tone shared by demons and small children when being caught out. Bartimaeus certainly didn't have anything resembling it. ]

Now?

I think now seems appropriate, yes.

See all of the lengths I go to! Where to?

Let's go to -

[ Um. Hm. She starts to suggest her place, for tea, but Bartimaeus can't drink tea, and he frankly probably doesn't love interior spaces - not with their iron nails, their cramped dimensions. So she hesitates, chews on her lip, and says, instead: ]

Let's go to the beach. The weather's a little cool, but that's all right. It should still be nice enough.

[ Not a bad spot, aside from all of that water... but, certainly could be worse. IE, almost everywhere else humans liked to be. ]

Last one there has to answer questions first.

[ And the connection cuts. ]

What - what questions have I got to answer -

[ But he's already gone, damn him. Kitty huffs an irritable sigh, and climbs into her car, and speeds to the beach. ]

[ The bird that the djinni had used to beat her there was certainly no species that Kitty had seen before. Larger than a building, the enormous roc's talons sink deeply into the sand, little puffs of fire spurting around the impressive beak, able to rend whole ships. Dark feathers, meant to hide against the evening sky simmered an inky black...

Which was all fine and intimidating except for the two small children swinging on its tailfeathers. The bird seems to be doing its level best to ignore being a gymnasium for preteens. ]

... Really now. Didn't even try to race properly?

[ Normally, that challenge would have raised Kitty's ire, put her back up. But the sight of those kids hanging off him is just too cute; she's already grinning by the time she joins him, coming to stand by his side. ]

Who says I was racing? I never agreed to any race.

[ The small wind blast created by the roc resettling its wings caused one of the climbing kids to tumble with a woop. The childhood resiliency was strong in that one, as they brushed the sand off and rushed right on back up. ]

It was tactically agreed on by way of me issuing a challenge.

Ah, I see.

[ Her eyes crinkle in fond amusement as she settles down to sit beside him, legs curled under her, utterly dwarfed by his enormous bulk. ]

Well, you know that I don't ever abide by the rules that others make for me.

[ The roc settles a little further, its natural warmth a complete buffer to the chill sea breeze. ]

I've noticed. I'm sure they'd make you queen if you asked for it, after that whole mess.

Eugh. What a horrible thought.

[ She wrinkles her nose in disapproval. ]

And it was only a seat on the Council, actually. I'd have slapped someone if they mentioned establishing a monarchy. - Anyway. You owe me some answers.

Very well. Pi by six. One part bleach to nine parts water, agitate well and lay flat to dry. And about 24 miles per hour. 11 meters per second anywhere but Britain.

Those aren't answers. Those are just - random facts.

I can't help it if you aren't asking the appropriate questions.

[ The bird's head angle down to her level. Kitty can see her own reflection clearly in the large, glossy black eye. ]