open RP: El Mundo del Sombrero bites the dust! Hot Pockets for everyone!
The Sorting Hat had a new lease on life, thanks to the return of its abducted bride. In Virginia's absence, the Hat had fretted alone in the Hat House, leaving only grudgingly for the Sortings it must perform, and using the rest of its time for contemplation so emo as to be worthy of the most bespandexed Gryffindor. Had it a navel, it would have
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Never one to miss a party and perhaps looking for an excuse to avoid rearranging her suite to hold one person, since her former roommate's popcorning, Dax ambled into the the great hall, and helped herself to one of those 'Hot Pockets' that her students kept going on about.
Chewing thoughtfully, Dax found said Hot Pocket to taste like of mixture of cardboard, chemicals, and stale fungi. The scientist was so busy wondering what would tempt today's young people into such a culinary mishap, she barely noticed that her hair was twisting into an elaborate updo. Her sensible working boots were changing into very suggestive heels. Her clothing itself was shrinking into something....not at all work appropriate.
By the time the transformation was complete, Dax wasn't the least bit concerned with her appearance. No. What she was concerned about was the state of the Great Hall.
"Vy is eet is so dusty in 'ere!" she exclaimed. "Zis cannot stand!" Simply disgraceful. Feather duster in hand, Jazdia set out to make Hogwarts presentable, starting with the seating options. Which she had to lean down to clean throughly.
In case anyone was wondering, it was now readily apparent that the spots went all the way down to her ankles.
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Luckily, Jack's Hot Pocket had taken things off the edge. Not that he had any idea what a Hot Pocket was, but it DID look like a rather sumptuous lump of bread. They did not live up to their wondrous outer appeal, dammit, magma hot inside! He'd absolutely destroyed his tongue. Thank God for Hot Pockets. At least... for Special Hot Pockets.
Yes, Jack was quite apparently stoned. Very stoned. You could probably throw a Frisbee through his pupils if you really tried.
"Your dress, darling, it is so... very..." Oh, jeez, what was the word? Damn. Um. "Leggy." Good enough. "I do like spots." He wanted to touch them. That feather duster seemed worlds of foreboding, however. "Ah, marriage! Right! We are... not. No more."
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"I know," Dax said, pouting. "But you vill still 'elp me keep zis place clean, yes?" She clasped his hands with her own, and batted her eyelashes. "For old time's sake?"
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Oh! Right! Speaking! A concept not all too foreign to him! "I... yes! Cleaning? Wait." What was the answer to go with here. Banana squared. Hahaha. Er, anyway. "Yes! I will!" And may or may not have attempted a bow that ended up with his head knocking somewhere amongst her breasts. Same difference, really.
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Hey, she was French! Drunken debauchery was not a problem. She shoved her feather dusty into Jack's hands (naughty!), and reached out to embrace the pirate. "Thank you, Jack! If you could please start dusting ze rafters, it would be very appreciated."
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At any rate, there was a feathered thing in his hand. Rather nice feathers. He liked feathers. They felt funny. As if to remember this fact, he started dusting his face. Which, of course, tickled his nose and induced a rather large sneezing fit. Er. Anyway. "Rafters?" he asked after a long pause, still studying the feather duster at proximities that were all too close. "Up there? ...Way, way up there?"
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"But of course! Just because we cannot zee ze dust, does not mean it isn't there!" She looked around, hands on hips. "We will need to find you a ladder."
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"You mean to say invisible dust?" he asked, vaguely, looking from the duster. To the ceiling. And back. A few times over. "I think you lie. Indivisidible dust is no threat 't all."
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