૦૦1 ✘ the apple now is sweet oh much sweeter than it ought to be
[the video flickers on. blank. the darkness shifts once, twice before the obstruction moves away and a pair of lips and a chin come into view. at the bottom of the image, matted fluff presses against the lens.]
[a few moments and the image jogs again, descends into a flash of white and red and dark blue--
steadies on a face. a pleasant face, framed by bright white hair and wearing a soft smile. his dark eyes are focused on the screen.]
Hello.
I wonder if someone might be kind enough to help me. I'd like a guide to my room; our hosts prove less than obliging, and my sense of direction really isn't what it ought to be. Also, I'm looking for a man-- [a pause, that smile growing just a little more fond (a little more fanatical)] -- a man by the name of Johnny Rayflo. If anyone happens to meet him, please tell him Barry's waiting. He's a dear friend of mine. I'm worried about him.
[the camera shifts yet again, this time allowing for a view of something dark dried into and matting the fur of his collar and turning the length of his long white braid a dying crimson. a quick flash of moistly crusted skin at his neck half-hidden behind a stained green cravat sends a droplet of something falling to partially obscure the view. he wipes it away with a thumb]
A change of clothes might be nice, if anyone has any to spare.
[a few moments and the image jogs again, descends into a flash of white and red and dark blue--
steadies on a face. a pleasant face, framed by bright white hair and wearing a soft smile. his dark eyes are focused on the screen.]
Hello.
I wonder if someone might be kind enough to help me. I'd like a guide to my room; our hosts prove less than obliging, and my sense of direction really isn't what it ought to be. Also, I'm looking for a man-- [a pause, that smile growing just a little more fond (a little more fanatical)] -- a man by the name of Johnny Rayflo. If anyone happens to meet him, please tell him Barry's waiting. He's a dear friend of mine. I'm worried about him.
[the camera shifts yet again, this time allowing for a view of something dark dried into and matting the fur of his collar and turning the length of his long white braid a dying crimson. a quick flash of moistly crusted skin at his neck half-hidden behind a stained green cravat sends a droplet of something falling to partially obscure the view. he wipes it away with a thumb]
A change of clothes might be nice, if anyone has any to spare.