003 (Voice- think Veruca Salt meets Luna Lovegood.)

[onlyhalfserious]

[Sark's having the BEST WEEK EVER. First he finds out he's dead, then Alastair makes him his bitch, and now he's a foot shorter, and looks younger than he is, because... Tiny Russian girls look younger. Because I said so.]

The first person who provides me with a bottle of champagne right this moment will receive my undying devotion.

This, Admiral,

Comments

[gray_atonement]

Welcome to the Barge.

[onlyhalfserious]

Quite the welcome. I've killed men for far less agreeable welcomes, but I'm rather impotent against much of anything, at this point, so I won't waste my breath on idle threats.

[gray_atonement]

I prefer this to the truth flood, the inability to lie. This may be inconvenient, but at least you're still yourself mentally. That's pretty rare.

[onlyhalfserious]

...I hope the Admiral avoids that one in the near future. I have much more rational fears than worrying I might reveal my secrets due to his inefficient driving.

[gray_atonement]

He loves to make you worry. And sweat. Just to screw with your head in general, really.