Sunday Evening Hours
*DEATH is still sitting at the desk as the evening wears on, reading his books and scribbling his notes. Perodically he experiments with various jazz hands techniques. He is beginning to wonder where the Rat had gotten himself too. He certainly had something to learn about efficiency, though, truthfully, he wasn't terribly bad. For a skeletal rat.
Suddenly, as if on cue, the Death of Rats comes scampering through the door, and scrambles up onto the desk, dropping a bag of candy triumphantly on the desk.*
YOU HAVE RETURNED. EXCELLENT. THIS SHALL BE VERY FESTIVE.
*DEATH sets up a small red and green bowl, complete with blinking lights, on the desk, and pours the candy in. He begins to to pick through it, noting in appreciation that the assortment contains christmas colored gum drops, wax lips**, candy bells and a wide assortment of chocolates, including chocolate christmas trees.
The Death of Rats picks up a small, non-descript bit of chocolate, chewing cautiously. There was something about that candy man that made him wary. Still, he ought to let DEATH know about the recommendations.*
SQUEAK! SQUEAK SQUEAK!
IS THAT SO? I WILL HAVE TO SAVE SOME FOR LATER THEN.
*DEATH, heeding the Rat's advice, removes the few wax lips to be had and several of the gum drops from the bowl.*
DEATH is in for the evening. And he has candy and jazz hands. Come bleed and be festive.
((OOC: The bag of candy was carried on the back of a *rat*. Which means there is only so much of it to be had. I'm putting a little ** by anything that the bowl is out of.))
Suddenly, as if on cue, the Death of Rats comes scampering through the door, and scrambles up onto the desk, dropping a bag of candy triumphantly on the desk.*
YOU HAVE RETURNED. EXCELLENT. THIS SHALL BE VERY FESTIVE.
*DEATH sets up a small red and green bowl, complete with blinking lights, on the desk, and pours the candy in. He begins to to pick through it, noting in appreciation that the assortment contains christmas colored gum drops, wax lips**, candy bells and a wide assortment of chocolates, including chocolate christmas trees.
The Death of Rats picks up a small, non-descript bit of chocolate, chewing cautiously. There was something about that candy man that made him wary. Still, he ought to let DEATH know about the recommendations.*
SQUEAK! SQUEAK SQUEAK!
IS THAT SO? I WILL HAVE TO SAVE SOME FOR LATER THEN.
*DEATH, heeding the Rat's advice, removes the few wax lips to be had and several of the gum drops from the bowl.*
DEATH is in for the evening. And he has candy and jazz hands. Come bleed and be festive.
((OOC: The bag of candy was carried on the back of a *rat*. Which means there is only so much of it to be had. I'm putting a little ** by anything that the bowl is out of.))