Slow-going, but going nonetheless w/ Merits... =_=;
Another knock, another patient few minutes spent waiting at the ever-impenetrable closed door.
She tried again, for the sixth time.
“Master Pakku! Are you there?” Katara called, her nose red and her knuckles raw from rapping on the solid wood blockage in front of her.
“The neighbours said he hasn’t left his house other than to check his traps,” Jet informed her as he trudged up the snowy walkway. “They wished us well and gave us a thermos of hot chocolate. They were really friendly folk.”
“They’d have to be, to put up with this jerk,” Katara muttered blisteringly under her breath as she warmed her hands with said breath. It was bad enough that it was frigidly cold out of doors at the moment, but the fact that her mittens had muffled her knocks to nothing had meant she had to do without as they tried to get through to the man who had sealed himself away from the better part of the Tribe.
“Master Pakku!” she called again, adding a less polite thumping quality to her knocking now. “My name is Katara Kuruk, I’m here to talk to you about your work! Could you please spare me a few minutes of your time?”
Forcing himself to be patient and supportive, Jet stood back, knowing it was useless to talk Katara out of something she had her heart set on.
… Though after three visits so far and not even a hint of acknowledgement from the reclusive old bastard, he was beginning to sympathise with her thoughts of manslaughter.
Apparently, Katara was losing her patience, too.
“You shitty old man, open up!” she screamed, suddenly reaching her boiling point.
Kickkickkickkickkickkick-!
-Crack!
Jet’s mouth dropped open.
Katara’s eyes bulged.
“Run,” was all she said, and they high-tailed it back to the car.
She tried again, for the sixth time.
“Master Pakku! Are you there?” Katara called, her nose red and her knuckles raw from rapping on the solid wood blockage in front of her.
“The neighbours said he hasn’t left his house other than to check his traps,” Jet informed her as he trudged up the snowy walkway. “They wished us well and gave us a thermos of hot chocolate. They were really friendly folk.”
“They’d have to be, to put up with this jerk,” Katara muttered blisteringly under her breath as she warmed her hands with said breath. It was bad enough that it was frigidly cold out of doors at the moment, but the fact that her mittens had muffled her knocks to nothing had meant she had to do without as they tried to get through to the man who had sealed himself away from the better part of the Tribe.
“Master Pakku!” she called again, adding a less polite thumping quality to her knocking now. “My name is Katara Kuruk, I’m here to talk to you about your work! Could you please spare me a few minutes of your time?”
Forcing himself to be patient and supportive, Jet stood back, knowing it was useless to talk Katara out of something she had her heart set on.
… Though after three visits so far and not even a hint of acknowledgement from the reclusive old bastard, he was beginning to sympathise with her thoughts of manslaughter.
Apparently, Katara was losing her patience, too.
“You shitty old man, open up!” she screamed, suddenly reaching her boiling point.
Kickkickkickkickkickkick-!
-Crack!
Jet’s mouth dropped open.
Katara’s eyes bulged.
“Run,” was all she said, and they high-tailed it back to the car.