Somebody knows, somebody's seen. Somebody knows right where you've been.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark is in a tree.

Yes, you read that right. This would make a great deal of sense if he were a ferret and some sense if he were a tiger, but, at the present moment, he is a person. In a tree.

No, he really doesn't want to talk about it, but he suspects he's going to have to. Apparently, he was taking a walk through the park, contemplating whimsy

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[pressthatbutton]

Katja sticks the cigarette in her mouth, holding it determinedly between her lipsticked lips, and figures, to hell with it. It is time to climb this tree because she can so totally do it better than this guy. Clearly this is the only reason anyone would ever risk a perfectly good cigarette.

So she does, thanking God that this tree is, apparently, built with brances low to the ground, as while she's wearing perfectly comfy cargo pants, her shoes are still those little ergonomic wedge things that are not so good for being tomboyish in. They're very cute, though she suspects that Mr. Smug is not going to notice that.

"Then, O Smug One, why don't you climb awaaaaay!" she says, perching herself on a branch that's still underneath him but affords her a clearer view of his surliness than the ground -- now with less Crick In Neck as a super bonus! "Instead of looking like you want to tear out my throat and, you know, not moving an inch."

And now that she's relatively sure her shoes are not going to betray her, mostly because she's smart and sitting on the branch rather than standing on it, she takes a drag on her cigarette. Two can play the smug game, Sark.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark continues to stare at her like he'd like to tear her throat out and then proceeds to start working his way down... Very awkwardly. Possibly, extremely awkwardly. It's very difficult to do this delicately, in general, but if someone's watching.

The branch he just put his foot down on cracks and he drops a couple of inches and just barely catches himself. Lovely. He'll be cashing in his dignity card again. He keeps having to do that.

He gives Katja a LOOK OF DEATH as he dangles rather pathetically, just daring her to say a word. ...Not that he can do anything to her in this position, BUT FEAR HIS BLUE-EYED GAZE OF DEATH. FEEEEAR.

[pressthatbutton]

Katja tries and fails to smother a laugh, and therefore it comes out as kind of an unladylike snork with giggles afterward. She puts her forehead against a branch in front of her and giggles some more, looking at Sark with an incredulous and incredibly amused face.

Then she clambers her way down to where Sark is hanging, and pulls her cigarettes out of her pocket. This is incredibly awkward, and she herself almost looses her balance and teeters for a moment before regaining it -- that would've been embarrassing -- but she manages. Then she sticks a cigarette behind Sark's ear. Who gives a fuck if he doesn't actually smoke?

"You'll get the hang of it eventually," she says, resisting the urge to give him a pat on the head simply because she's losing her balance again. "Practice makes perfect, all that bullshit." Then she clambers downward, eventually just giving up and dropping the last ten or so feet to the ground. Which does manage to vaguely twist her ankle, but she walks away through the pain, dammit, because hell if she's going to let him know these stupid shoes are going to be the death of her. She really needs to quit being enticed by the word 'ergonomic' and just stock up on tennis shoes, ugliness be damned.