♞ nine

[sir_stabby]

Ugh...

[Guy groans as he stares in horror at the large ship in the distance. He knows he'll have to get back on that damned boat soon, and the thought of it makes his stomach turn. Which is a pity, of course, since he's spent the past few days lying in bed, trying to calm his poor, seasick tummy down.]

It figures that the moment I started feeling

Comments

[duchess_archer]

[...Well, Archer's a little pissy after losing in the casino for a long while, and comes onto the beach spotting a kid.]

Hey, kid. I bet I can build a bigger castle than you.

[sir_stabby]

[Guy looks over at the man standing near him.]

I'm not a kid. I just look like one thanks to the sodding castle. [Guy looks down at the pathetic sand mounds he's created.] And act like one...somehow.

[He sighs, and then looks up at the man. He's not used to looking "up" to people, being 6'2 normally.]

Guy of Gisborne. [He says, his voice still annoyingly squeaky.] And you are?

[duchess_archer]

Well, that's annoying. Takes some of the fun out of it. [...Out of beating a kid at a sand castle competition...]

Sterling Archer. Secret agent. It's a pleasure.

[sir_stabby]

Archer, eh? [Guy chuckles, thinking of his annoying baby brother who is also called Archer.] Since you're a secret agent... [He pauses, wondering if that job has anything to do with killing or maiming for fun or profit - if so, he might have something in common with this guy...] I take it that's a name, not an occupation?

[Guy looks down at the sand with strange longing. He's not sure why he cares so much about his little sand mounds, but he does; even worse: the urge to play in the sand is becoming strong again. Stupid sodding castle! He thinks. This is worse than being horny! He sighs again, and looks back up at the man.]

And, what's this about building a bigger castle than me? [He says, smirking.] I used to be a knight. I know my castles...

[duchess_archer]

You know, I've never been asked that before I came here. Yeah. Name. Secret agent was the occupation. [And the way Archer does it, it is pretty much killing or maiming for fun and profit.]

Well, I have much bigger hands. Didn't say it was going to be a good castle.

[sir_stabby]

Right. [Guy nods.] Sorry. Where I am from, it serves as both an occupation and a name - my younger brother is called Archer, annoying little shit that he is... Secret agent, eh? That like an assassin? [He asks, grinning. Been there, done that - never mind that he failed. Twice.]

[Guy then stares down at the man's hands. They are large, but Guy is undeterred. After all, he's quite fast in his current state, and his energy is boundless. Guy looks up at the man, smirking.] So, what do I get when I win?

[duchess_archer]

Huh. Yeah, some elf woman made the same mistake.

Eh... It's like an assassin, except you don't have to spend all your time killing people. There's drinks, women, and expense accounts. The three great pillars of life.

Hah! That's funny. I don't know, I'll get you some drugs or something. That's what kids want, right? What do I get when I win?

[sir_stabby]

Elf woman? [Guy thinks.] Pointy ears, right?

Oh, that's a secret agent, eh? I suppose I used to be one myself then. Nice perks, but it never ends well. [Guy briefly considers all the times he was tied to a tree, had his wolf tattoo burned off with acid, nearly hanged twice, beheaded, set on fire, almost drowned, etc., etc.]

Drugs? Pfft. How about you put on one of those grass skirts I've seen people wear and dance around instead? And if you win... [Guy smiles evilly.] I'll let you live.

[ooc: I can tone Guy down, if needed. :)]

by no means!

[duchess_archer]

Yeah, that's the kind.

--Oh, yeah? You don't much look like it. It's been ending well enough for me so far. Plenty of, uh, happy endings. Heh heh.

Dude, no homo on the skirts. And what's with the melodrama? If you mean you're offering me immortality, we can talk. Maybe five bucks would be a better bet.

Re: by no means!

[sir_stabby]

Immortality? Sorry, mate. I'm not special enough for superpowers. [He says this grudgingly.] And five bucks?

[Guy stares up at Sterling, a bit bewildered. Bucks?! And five of them? Where am I going to find so many deer on a beach? He takes a deep breath, and then wonders if perhaps the man is talking about some form of currency instead?]

We could do that. [He says, still looking a bit clueless.] Or, how about this: when I win, when we get back to the castle, you wish for a proper sword for me. The castle won't give me one, no matter how hard I wish. And if by some random chance you happen to win, I'll buy you a pint of ale or whatever the hell you drink. What do you say?

[He would still prefer the grass skirt thing, though - that would be hilarious...]

Oh, and that's not melodrama. I've killed men for less. I'm not being funny... [And that was very bad, bla-di-bla-di-bla... He thinks.]

[duchess_archer]

Of course you're not.

What's the matter, can't afford it out of your allowance? Fine, fine. Except how about when I win, you wingman for me if you ever get restored to your adult form. I think you can manage it.

Dude, we've all killed men for no reason in our time. It happens, don't worry about it.

[sir_stabby]

I made a habit out of it, though. I think there might have been celebrations among the peasantry when my bitch of a sister tried to have me beheaded. [He sighs.]

Allowance? [Guy scoffs.] Honestly, I haven't the faintest clue what a "buck" is. I was born in 1160, mate.

[Guy thinks over his proposition. He nods.]

Fine. Wingman. And you're damn right I can manage. I just better get a decent weapon out of it...

So, what are your terms? How do we know when I win?

[duchess_archer]

Hey, don't take it too hard, man. If history has taught us one thing, it's that the peasantry loves to get heads. And head. Bloodthirsty, you know.

Were you, now? [Given what else there is around here, he can't bring himself to care.] A buck is a dollar. Which is a unit of currency.

[He shrugs.] Ten minutes, whoever's castle is bigger wins. In the sense of overall volume.

[sir_stabby]

Head. [Guy snickers. He's really starting to like this Sterling guy. He's quick, blunt and to the point.]

And bloodthirsty? Quite. The sorry bastards tried to hang me the first time when I was fifteen for no reason at all. Well, there was a reason, but I had nothing to do with that priest's near-death experience. Honest.

Thanks for the tip - buck, dollar, currency. Got it. Sorry. It's just a lot to keep up with...

[Guy nods, before walking over and picking up two sets of shovels and pails that are conveniently sitting a short distance away. He hands one of each to Sterling.]

Alright. We go on three. [Guy says, smirking. He waits for a moment, and then...]

THREE!

[He yells, suddenly tearing into the sand below him...]

[duchess_archer]

Hey, man. If it's a matter of a priest and a fifteen-year-old boy, I think I know where my sympathies lie--

[SHIT. He follows suit and starts tearing into the sand like a madman, starting with a rather idiotic-looking lump.]

[sir_stabby]

[Guy's digging in the dirt like a dog, piling up a mound of sand up behind him. He's smirking all the while, realizing that his child form is pretty useful. It's quick and energetic... He could certainly keep going like this for a full ten minutes...

He pauses for a moment, as a sudden thought strikes him.]

So, how do we know when ten minutes have passed? I have no time-keeping device...

[ooc: Sorry for the delay! It's been a weird few days... :(]