Not a Damsel 2d/d
anonymous
January 22 2011, 16:51:10 UTC
Alfred was sitting at his impromptu desk, feet up on the edge of the wood as he looked over the set design he was going to be working on tomorrow. The western he was excited for. Looking at a few pictures of a saloon he was supposed to replicate somewhat, he blue eyed man heard a knock at the door. He look up startled, blue eyes wide and then glanced at his watch. Shit. He was going to be late for dinner if he didn’t start getting on his way.
He glanced over the rim of his glasses at the man at his door. It was the white haired man he had seen earlier. Alfred began gathering his papers together. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Yeah, Actually you can. There’s a problem with part of the set being taken down. I was told you would be the one to call.” The red eyed man looked agitated, as though he wanted to be doing something else.
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” Alfred muttered, snapping a case closed and putting it into a drawer.
“I think it would be best if you came now.” With a sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck, Alfred nodded. “Alright. Let’s make this quick and stop the meltdown.” He flicked off the lights as he left the room, following the unknown worker. As he shut the office door, jacket in one arm and fedora on his head, Alfred looked towards the worker. “So what’s your name?”
“The awesome Gilbert.”
Alfred raised his brow, smiling a bit. “Self imposed title?” Drat. If he didn’t get home quickly Arthur would start cooking. Maybe If Arthur had had a bad day he could lure him into going out to eat. As he followed Gilbert, he began to check his pockets to make sure he had the sketch he had been working on earlier. When Gilbert continued to lead him towards the stage, Alfred cocked his head to the side. “So what exactly is the problem?” The stage was darker thanks to almost everyone heading home about now.
“Oh, it’s over here…looks like an odd crack.”
“Oh really? That’s strange. Toris’ work is always ace.”
Gilbert shrugged and pointed over at the far corner. “See?”
“No. Might be my eyesight though. You said it was a crack, right? How bad?”
“Well, not as bad as the crack I’m going to put in your head.”
“What?” Alfred turned around to see a red pipe wrench come swinging towards his head.
Oh, cliffie. :D How I simultaneously love and hate them. You had me lulled into a false sense of security there; I thought Arthur would be the one to be kidnapped. Loving Elizabeta as a femme fatale, as well.
Re: Not a Damsel 2d/d
anonymous
January 24 2011, 06:09:32 UTC
I know next to nothing about the 50s or the Superman comics, and have only the vaguest idea about film noir but I so love the setting and atmosphere you created. I have to admit that when I read saw the fedora and everyone smoking, I kept thinking about the 1920s instead. :]
Anyway, I can't wait to see how Arthur is going to rescue Alfred.
Alfred was sitting at his impromptu desk, feet up on the edge of the wood as he looked over the set design he was going to be working on tomorrow. The western he was excited for. Looking at a few pictures of a saloon he was supposed to replicate somewhat, he blue eyed man heard a knock at the door. He look up startled, blue eyes wide and then glanced at his watch. Shit. He was going to be late for dinner if he didn’t start getting on his way.
He glanced over the rim of his glasses at the man at his door. It was the white haired man he had seen earlier. Alfred began gathering his papers together. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Yeah, Actually you can. There’s a problem with part of the set being taken down. I was told you would be the one to call.” The red eyed man looked agitated, as though he wanted to be doing something else.
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” Alfred muttered, snapping a case closed and putting it into a drawer.
“I think it would be best if you came now.”
With a sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck, Alfred nodded. “Alright. Let’s make this quick and stop the meltdown.” He flicked off the lights as he left the room, following the unknown worker. As he shut the office door, jacket in one arm and fedora on his head, Alfred looked towards the worker. “So what’s your name?”
“The awesome Gilbert.”
Alfred raised his brow, smiling a bit. “Self imposed title?” Drat. If he didn’t get home quickly Arthur would start cooking. Maybe If Arthur had had a bad day he could lure him into going out to eat. As he followed Gilbert, he began to check his pockets to make sure he had the sketch he had been working on earlier. When Gilbert continued to lead him towards the stage, Alfred cocked his head to the side. “So what exactly is the problem?” The stage was darker thanks to almost everyone heading home about now.
“Oh, it’s over here…looks like an odd crack.”
“Oh really? That’s strange. Toris’ work is always ace.”
Gilbert shrugged and pointed over at the far corner. “See?”
“No. Might be my eyesight though. You said it was a crack, right? How bad?”
“Well, not as bad as the crack I’m going to put in your head.”
“What?” Alfred turned around to see a red pipe wrench come swinging towards his head.
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Ó_Ò Is Alfred ok?!
Ò_Ó Argh, cliffhanger...
ÒoÓ Arthur, stop burning dinner and go save your beau from getting an acid bath!!
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Anyway, I can't wait to see how Arthur is going to rescue Alfred.
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