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[l33t_mouse]

There's a stunning purple-skinned, red-static-haired woman sitting in a chair tipped on its two back legs, her booted feet up on the table in front of her. A glass of some exotic sprite cocktail sits beside said feet

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[weirdwilbur]

"Yer gonna fall over ef yew kip yer chair tipped halfway over like thet," Wilbur says cheerily. "Jest sew yer aware, yew know."

[l33t_mouse]

Mouse has to run that warning through her head a second time in order to parse meaning out of the accent. Perhaps it serves her right: some people have the same problem with her accent.

"If I fall over, sugar, I know how t'roll back on t'my feet," she says.

[weirdwilbur]

"Awlright, then." Wilbur sits down in the chair opposite. "Dun't think I've met yew befer. Name's Wilbur Whateley. An' yew ur?"

[l33t_mouse]

The purple lady finishes polishing her katana, lifts her legs off the table and, though the chair falls back onto its front feet with a clunk when she does so, she smoothly transfers her feet to the floor. With one, she kicks up her katana scabbard, catches it in one hand, and sheathes her sword in it with the other. "Mouse," she says, with a grin that's friendly in spite of her too-long canine teeth.