Merry takes her plans, and other info on rigging and heads over to Spinle's room. The piskey knocks on the door and waits for him bouncing from one foot to the other.
From Merry's point of view, several seconds pass. The floor beneath her feet seems to vibrate suddenly. When the door opens, Spindle stands there, sweating slightly in an oversized t-shirt that hangs on him like a tent.
"Hey, Merry. Sorry about the delay. Trying to pack all the motherfucking shit up for wroiking the move." The gawky little Nocker opens the door further to let her in. The room has been stripped bare again, everything pack into various toolboxes and the oversized footlocker. One of the larger toolboxes lies upsidedown on the floor, an assortment of wrenches scattered about it; at a rough guess, it must have slipped off the bed and crashed onto the floor.
Merry simes, "I wanted to know, well if you had the time with the move and everything, if you could maybe make something up for me. I want to start practicing my craft, but I need the rigging."
Merry starts to hand the nocker the pages, "I sent an email to someone I know at a circus, I'm sure if I don't have enough infomation, we can ask the riggers there." The piskey could not stop smiling, "I can't wait to work on the rigging..." You can almost see her twirling from a cord in the reflection of her eyes.
Spreading the pages out across his former roommate's bed, the Nocker stands straight and looks them over with an experienced eye. After minutes of saying nothing, he turns his head back towards Merry so she can see his thin lips and needle teeth.
"The design looks practical," he assures her, "Although I'd definitely rather consult with those riggers to be sure. Most of the rigging I've ever done is over in the theatre... working the fly ropes, loading hogs and sows and that sort of thing."
He looks back at the design and leans in to trace a finger along the drawing. "Whe-" He stops himself and turns to her so she can see his lips again. "Where is this nightmare of a cat's cradle going anyway? And you know this sort of thing is going to be one smeggingly large chunk of change, right?"
Merry frowns, "I didn't think about that. Could it be made to be taken apart, moved and put back up? The stuff the circuses have has to be so they can move. How much is smegging large?"
Spindle shrugs. "The more you want, the more it costs. Here, let me show you."
Reaching into one of his toolboxes, he pulls out a small white board and blue marker. He starts to sketch (roughly) two pole with a wire between them. "Now going back to basics, this here would be $200-$500 for supplies, less if we can find a better junkyard around here. And we'd have to sink the suckers into the ground a good ten feet at least." He gestured at the crude drawing, "Circuses have elephants and shit to help move heavy logs at outside events. And riggings take up a lot of fucking space, so something to consider is where would you keep it?"
He holds up his too long fingers to forestall any protests about smashing her dreams. "THAT'S if you build it out of mundane crap, though. If you want it out of Glamour..." Spindle gives a pointy-toothed grin that can only be described as 'shit-eating'. "Well, that's a whole different story."
"Hey, Merry. Sorry about the delay. Trying to pack all the motherfucking shit up for wroiking the move." The gawky little Nocker opens the door further to let her in. The room has been stripped bare again, everything pack into various toolboxes and the oversized footlocker. One of the larger toolboxes lies upsidedown on the floor, an assortment of wrenches scattered about it; at a rough guess, it must have slipped off the bed and crashed onto the floor.
"Can I help you with something?"
Reply
Reply
Reply
((http://www.barry.ca/))
Reply
"The design looks practical," he assures her, "Although I'd definitely rather consult with those riggers to be sure. Most of the rigging I've ever done is over in the theatre... working the fly ropes, loading hogs and sows and that sort of thing."
He looks back at the design and leans in to trace a finger along the drawing. "Whe-" He stops himself and turns to her so she can see his lips again. "Where is this nightmare of a cat's cradle going anyway? And you know this sort of thing is going to be one smeggingly large chunk of change, right?"
Reply
Reply
Reaching into one of his toolboxes, he pulls out a small white board and blue marker. He starts to sketch (roughly) two pole with a wire between them. "Now going back to basics, this here would be $200-$500 for supplies, less if we can find a better junkyard around here. And we'd have to sink the suckers into the ground a good ten feet at least." He gestured at the crude drawing, "Circuses have elephants and shit to help move heavy logs at outside events. And riggings take up a lot of fucking space, so something to consider is where would you keep it?"
He holds up his too long fingers to forestall any protests about smashing her dreams. "THAT'S if you build it out of mundane crap, though. If you want it out of Glamour..." Spindle gives a pointy-toothed grin that can only be described as 'shit-eating'. "Well, that's a whole different story."
Reply
Leave a comment