Sixth
[AUDIO]
[The post starts as audio. In the background, there's the clatter of pots and pans, and the strains of Frank Sinatra in the background. Then some how humming starts up, off-key and not quite with Mister Sinatra as much as it might like to be. But then again, the owner of that voice doesn't think he's being recorded. The clatter stops after a moment, and then the humming gets a bit louder, in time with the music. Then, oddly enough, there's an odd shuffling sound, and now there are words with the song. Still sung off-key and maybe with an odd sailor's accent, voice a bit too gruff, but--]
I get na kick fr'm champagne
Mere alc'hol doesn't thrill me a'tall
[and there's a jolt as the video comes on--seems he bumped into the table his comm was sitting on, and now, dear lord, there's video. Have Silver shuffling around the kitchen, doing some awkward parody of some sort of two-step dance, with a broom. And yes, he's still warbling off-key. ]
So tell me why should it b' true
That I get a kick outta you!
[and that last you is a long, held, off-key note, before he chuckles to himself, moving towards the counter as the song continues to play. And his communicator makes some sort of sound, because he looks over at it in puzzlement for a moment, before--wait for it--that expression melts into shock, then abject horror, then something like rage all in about the span of half a second, before he's lunging at the communicator--]
[FEED TERMINATED]
[The post starts as audio. In the background, there's the clatter of pots and pans, and the strains of Frank Sinatra in the background. Then some how humming starts up, off-key and not quite with Mister Sinatra as much as it might like to be. But then again, the owner of that voice doesn't think he's being recorded. The clatter stops after a moment, and then the humming gets a bit louder, in time with the music. Then, oddly enough, there's an odd shuffling sound, and now there are words with the song. Still sung off-key and maybe with an odd sailor's accent, voice a bit too gruff, but--]
I get na kick fr'm champagne
Mere alc'hol doesn't thrill me a'tall
[and there's a jolt as the video comes on--seems he bumped into the table his comm was sitting on, and now, dear lord, there's video. Have Silver shuffling around the kitchen, doing some awkward parody of some sort of two-step dance, with a broom. And yes, he's still warbling off-key. ]
So tell me why should it b' true
That I get a kick outta you!
[and that last you is a long, held, off-key note, before he chuckles to himself, moving towards the counter as the song continues to play. And his communicator makes some sort of sound, because he looks over at it in puzzlement for a moment, before--wait for it--that expression melts into shock, then abject horror, then something like rage all in about the span of half a second, before he's lunging at the communicator--]
[FEED TERMINATED]