IMPROV: The Dirty Work
(Westmark: Las Bombas, Justitia, "loathe", "lounge"; 10 minutes)
"I'm beginning to loathe this business," Las Bombas grumbles, squinting in the doubtful candlelight at his handiwork.
The young man lounging in the doorway takes off his spectacles, smudging their lenses with a fold of his sleeve, and peers at him. "You're not turning honest on us now, are you?"
A puff. "Certainly not! What do you take me for?" He picks up the paper and shakes it slightly, encouraging the ink to dry. "I object on moral grounds."
"Yes?"
"The man's very signature is villainous. As crabbed and unpleasant as his soul. I have to wash my hands after copying it."
Justitia laughs. "Someone has to do the dirty jobs."
"I'm beginning to loathe this business," Las Bombas grumbles, squinting in the doubtful candlelight at his handiwork.
The young man lounging in the doorway takes off his spectacles, smudging their lenses with a fold of his sleeve, and peers at him. "You're not turning honest on us now, are you?"
A puff. "Certainly not! What do you take me for?" He picks up the paper and shakes it slightly, encouraging the ink to dry. "I object on moral grounds."
"Yes?"
"The man's very signature is villainous. As crabbed and unpleasant as his soul. I have to wash my hands after copying it."
Justitia laughs. "Someone has to do the dirty jobs."