Baby, you're drunk and acting tough. I know you're sad you're not the only one who feels like that…
{Kashtta Tower party thread!}
It's about four thirty in the afternoon on a nice, sunny day when Dmitri Lang strolls up to the front door of the Kashtta Tower and kicks it. Hard.
The glass doesn't shatter, because she's not enough of an idiot to kick it in the glass part. But the doors don't seem to open, and she can't exactly open them herself given that she seems to be carrying a stack of pizza boxes piled to a point just over her head. She peers into the lobby, scopes out the door for a handicapped-access plate, and then just kicks it again. "Hey! I know I've been gone for a while, but I'm pretty sure this place has people in it!"
No joy. After a moment she looks back to her stack of pizza, wrinkling her nose - she's going to smell like oregano and pizza sauce for a while after carting these things across the city, but hell, when someone gives you ALL THE PIZZA, you take it gracefully and wish you had a car.
She could probably put the stack down, but then she'd have to go through the exciting process of picking them all up again, and that's just a drag.
She looks up, spotting the CCTV camera aimed at the door and mouthing DE-LIV-ER-Y!! at it, complete with enough emphasis for at least two exclamation points. After a moment, when the door fails to swing open on its own, she kicks it again.
And somewhere in the tower, Owen Harper would like to know WHY SOMEONE IS KICKING THE BUILDING. And whether it would be more personally aggravating to go see or to leave it and hope Ivanova gets to it before the Tower's bitching drives him mad.
After a moment, he stands up from his desk, unlocks his office door, and grumps through the hallway and down the stairs to where he finds... right, Tosh's friend. The one who's occasionally a bird of the literal variety. He yanks open the door, getting as far as "Can I help-"
"Take half of these boxes and walk to the cafeteria," Dmitri says, forcing her way in past him and shoving the tower of food at him. "And then I assume you have your bluetooth on?"
And then Owen has a stack of pizza boxes pressing into his shirt, and more than enough reason never to answer the door again. "What?"
"It's pizza, Kindkönig," Dmitri says, and uses the balance she's stolen from planting the stack on Owen's sternum to push the top half at him. His choices at that point are basically "take the boxes" or "let them fall, splatter open on the floor, and then have to explain to Gwen and deal with Ianto's long-suffering looks," so he takes them with an air of sullen ill grace. Which, you know, was the air he was wearing anyway.
"Why," he asks, glaring at her over the much-shorter tower of pizza, "do you have this?"
"Won a trivia contest at Pizzeria Uno and the prize was a pizza party for thirty," Dmitri says. "As I am not thirty people, I did a quick analysis of the people I did know in this city, and at the end, it was you or the archangels. And I'm not sure enough pizza for thirty people is enough to feed ten archangels, let alone however many are hoppin' around in the Conrad. To the cafeteria, man. Start walking and don't look a gift anchovy in the mouth." She elbows him on, striding off in that direction herself. "Actually I think only one has anchovies, so-"
"Do you always talk this much?" Owen interrupts, following along and trying to seem as though he's doing this by choice. It doesn't work.
Dmitri shoots him a look. "Hi. I'm Dmitri Lang. We obviously haven't met before."
They get to the cafeteria and Dmitri starts arranging the boxes on the nearest table, flipping them open and relieving Owen of his stack. Owen considers grabbing a piece and heading out, but Dmitri catches his sleeve before he can.
"Right. Now. Onto the network and tell everyone, or hand the earpiece to me."
Owen growls a little. "I'm not giving you my earpiece."
"Then make the announcement." Dmitri folds her arms. "Come on, Hopper, unless you want me to run through the halls shouting The pizza is coming, the pizza is coming! Wouldn't be accurate anyway, as it's already here."
Owen glares a bit longer. Then, very slowly, to communicate every iota of the absurdity of the situation, he raises his hand to his earpiece and puts himself on the universal channel.
"Everyone," he says, with that tone of voice that only wishes it was being sarcastic but, no, the world really is just that nonsensical, "there is a pizza party in the cafeteria. Thank you."
He clicks off.
Dmitri nods firmly. "Good job, Doc Moody. Feel free to help yourself."
Well, at least she brought pizza. That makes up for some of it, Owen thinks, and turns to the food.
It's about four thirty in the afternoon on a nice, sunny day when Dmitri Lang strolls up to the front door of the Kashtta Tower and kicks it. Hard.
The glass doesn't shatter, because she's not enough of an idiot to kick it in the glass part. But the doors don't seem to open, and she can't exactly open them herself given that she seems to be carrying a stack of pizza boxes piled to a point just over her head. She peers into the lobby, scopes out the door for a handicapped-access plate, and then just kicks it again. "Hey! I know I've been gone for a while, but I'm pretty sure this place has people in it!"
No joy. After a moment she looks back to her stack of pizza, wrinkling her nose - she's going to smell like oregano and pizza sauce for a while after carting these things across the city, but hell, when someone gives you ALL THE PIZZA, you take it gracefully and wish you had a car.
She could probably put the stack down, but then she'd have to go through the exciting process of picking them all up again, and that's just a drag.
She looks up, spotting the CCTV camera aimed at the door and mouthing DE-LIV-ER-Y!! at it, complete with enough emphasis for at least two exclamation points. After a moment, when the door fails to swing open on its own, she kicks it again.
And somewhere in the tower, Owen Harper would like to know WHY SOMEONE IS KICKING THE BUILDING. And whether it would be more personally aggravating to go see or to leave it and hope Ivanova gets to it before the Tower's bitching drives him mad.
After a moment, he stands up from his desk, unlocks his office door, and grumps through the hallway and down the stairs to where he finds... right, Tosh's friend. The one who's occasionally a bird of the literal variety. He yanks open the door, getting as far as "Can I help-"
"Take half of these boxes and walk to the cafeteria," Dmitri says, forcing her way in past him and shoving the tower of food at him. "And then I assume you have your bluetooth on?"
And then Owen has a stack of pizza boxes pressing into his shirt, and more than enough reason never to answer the door again. "What?"
"It's pizza, Kindkönig," Dmitri says, and uses the balance she's stolen from planting the stack on Owen's sternum to push the top half at him. His choices at that point are basically "take the boxes" or "let them fall, splatter open on the floor, and then have to explain to Gwen and deal with Ianto's long-suffering looks," so he takes them with an air of sullen ill grace. Which, you know, was the air he was wearing anyway.
"Why," he asks, glaring at her over the much-shorter tower of pizza, "do you have this?"
"Won a trivia contest at Pizzeria Uno and the prize was a pizza party for thirty," Dmitri says. "As I am not thirty people, I did a quick analysis of the people I did know in this city, and at the end, it was you or the archangels. And I'm not sure enough pizza for thirty people is enough to feed ten archangels, let alone however many are hoppin' around in the Conrad. To the cafeteria, man. Start walking and don't look a gift anchovy in the mouth." She elbows him on, striding off in that direction herself. "Actually I think only one has anchovies, so-"
"Do you always talk this much?" Owen interrupts, following along and trying to seem as though he's doing this by choice. It doesn't work.
Dmitri shoots him a look. "Hi. I'm Dmitri Lang. We obviously haven't met before."
They get to the cafeteria and Dmitri starts arranging the boxes on the nearest table, flipping them open and relieving Owen of his stack. Owen considers grabbing a piece and heading out, but Dmitri catches his sleeve before he can.
"Right. Now. Onto the network and tell everyone, or hand the earpiece to me."
Owen growls a little. "I'm not giving you my earpiece."
"Then make the announcement." Dmitri folds her arms. "Come on, Hopper, unless you want me to run through the halls shouting The pizza is coming, the pizza is coming! Wouldn't be accurate anyway, as it's already here."
Owen glares a bit longer. Then, very slowly, to communicate every iota of the absurdity of the situation, he raises his hand to his earpiece and puts himself on the universal channel.
"Everyone," he says, with that tone of voice that only wishes it was being sarcastic but, no, the world really is just that nonsensical, "there is a pizza party in the cafeteria. Thank you."
He clicks off.
Dmitri nods firmly. "Good job, Doc Moody. Feel free to help yourself."
Well, at least she brought pizza. That makes up for some of it, Owen thinks, and turns to the food.