Crackplot! Because gods shouldn't be allowed to be bored.

[notwocouches]

As everyone knows, tea is sort of the staple of life around the Mansion. And some ruthless being has gone right to the source. Most of the tea is still in its neat little boxes, not conveniently laid out, because we all know how people adapt (and gods don't play fair), but anyone desiring their breakfast beverage of choice may find it does a little

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[border_princess]

Helen comes down and, as is her habit, opens up the fridge to see if there is anything interesting in it. Well, that pitcher wasn't in there last night so she takes it out and decides to give it a try. It might be something she can make later.

Thus, the Polish princess has now become a Polish resistance fighter during World War II, complete with oversized army uniform. She looks around warily, and then finds a corner to watch everyone from.

[oilwithvinegar]

Paul comes in a bit later, hoping that Helen has made breakfast, and pours himself a glass of iced tea before looking for her. "Hello, Vasil," he says, and a moment later finds himself decked out in a giant pimp coat, complete with pimp hat, feathers, and bling.

[border_princess]

She looks around, not sure if she was the one he addressed. Vasil was her father's name. And then his clothes change. One thing has not changed and her eyes go wide and she makes the sign of the cross.

[oilwithvinegar]

Paul stops, frowning, then points at her, still puzzled. "I know you. Helen, isn't it?"

[border_princess]

Her eyes dart nervously. What if he's an informer? "How do you know?"

[oilwithvinegar]

"What, you don't remember dear Prince Paul? I seem to recall you working for me, Helen."

[border_princess]

Confused blink. "No." She looked at him warily, because everybody knows Russians are as bad as Germans. "Are you going to take me in?"

[oilwithvinegar]

"Take you in? Why would I want to do that?"

[border_princess]

"They're looking for me." But this place looks safe. So she has crept out of her corner and is going for some toast and the jam that Rosencrantz gave her earlier. She turns and speaks to him through a mouthful of it. "They want to send me away."

[oilwithvinegar]

"I won't send you away," Paul promises, suddenly all charm. "You got a bit of jam on your nose there--"

[border_princess]

She gives him a look, then swipes at her nose. "Better?"

[oilwithvinegar]

"No, here, let me." He steps closer, reaching out for her.

[border_princess]

She doesn't move away.

[oilwithvinegar]

Then he will just lean over and lick the jam off of her nose, smirking. "Delicious."

[border_princess]

She rubs her sleeve across her nose before going back to her toast. "Thanks, but you could have just used your hand." This Helen apparently doesn't have soldier boy to cause any dilemmas in certain areas.

[oilwithvinegar]

"I had to taste you," Paul smirks, remaining close.