(no subject)
There's nothing to brighten the mood like another spawn of Satan.
No, really. Seriously. Don't you see the familial resemblance, and don't you see the quite literally bright clothing that he's wearing? You really can't miss the bright pink scarf draped around his neck. Then again, you might be distracted by the half-lazy, half-flamboyant way he's entering the room, or perhaps the cheerful smile he's giving the room at large (it really is a charming smile, distinctly friendly but with a mischievous hint to it), or the - well, there are a billion things about him that could be described, but there's one thing that's clear. If you had gaydar, it'd be going off like mad right about now.
In any case, he's there. And since he's there, it's time for entertainment and fun and debauchery, clearly, because glancing around with an expectant look, he leans back to stand on the heels of his feet, tucks his hands behind his back, and grins again at the room. "Hi," is all he says, and for all the world, he almost looks like a child expecting a treat from out of a cookie jar.
Humour him, please.
Typist: Chrysanthos Onoskelis Crocell Kypris-Satan, child of - well, Lucifer/Aphrodite. Call him Chrys. (And ignore the initials, that was the result of silliness.) But pay attention to the pretty, pretty PB! There's no way for Rufus to be the PB of someone who isn't flamingly gay, srsly.
No, really. Seriously. Don't you see the familial resemblance, and don't you see the quite literally bright clothing that he's wearing? You really can't miss the bright pink scarf draped around his neck. Then again, you might be distracted by the half-lazy, half-flamboyant way he's entering the room, or perhaps the cheerful smile he's giving the room at large (it really is a charming smile, distinctly friendly but with a mischievous hint to it), or the - well, there are a billion things about him that could be described, but there's one thing that's clear. If you had gaydar, it'd be going off like mad right about now.
In any case, he's there. And since he's there, it's time for entertainment and fun and debauchery, clearly, because glancing around with an expectant look, he leans back to stand on the heels of his feet, tucks his hands behind his back, and grins again at the room. "Hi," is all he says, and for all the world, he almost looks like a child expecting a treat from out of a cookie jar.
Humour him, please.
Typist: Chrysanthos Onoskelis Crocell Kypris-Satan, child of - well, Lucifer/Aphrodite. Call him Chrys. (And ignore the initials, that was the result of silliness.) But pay attention to the pretty, pretty PB! There's no way for Rufus to be the PB of someone who isn't flamingly gay, srsly.