(Untitled)

[judgetightpants]

A man has entered the Nexus, barely seeing it. He is dressed, as some might recognize, in the manner of a Victorian gentleman of good standing. He paces, he fumes, he seethes, and at length a cry of frustration tears itself from his lips. "Damn it all, how am I to direct order out of madness and specious rumor

Comments

[impalaman]

Dean blinks and doesn't get the question. Something about direct ordering something.

"I dunno, have you tried credit cards? paypal?"

((The player gets it, Dean doesn't. hehe))

[judgetightpants]

The judge looks up, surprised, to find his surroundings not what he expected and this barely-dressed stranger accosting him in what should be the privacy of his chambers. Drawing himself up with an expression of indignation, he levels his most commanding glare at the hapless Dean. "Who are you, sir, and what nonsense are you speaking? Explain yourself at once."

[impalaman]

Dean straightened up to his full height, which.. really wasn't all that tall especially compared to his brother but he's not easily intimidated.

"Dean since you asked so politely." he smirked. "And you asked something about direct ordering something, I assume from a website or something. I was just giving you options."

[judgetightpants]

"Bah!" he barks, gesturing menacingly with his cane, "drunken whelp of an Irish dog, be off with you!"

[impalaman]

What an old grump. Dean thought.

"Or else?"

[judgetightpants]

"Or I'll have you warming a cell for a fortnight. Now be off with you!"

[impalaman]

Dean laughed. "If the FBI can't take me in, you've got no chance pal."

[judgetightpants]

"The what? Boy, you'd best talk some sense, or I'll give you a taste of my cane as well."

[impalaman]

Dean would LOVE to see the AV field rebound on this uppity jerk.

"That would be quite a show."

[judgetightpants]

It probably would be quite the show. The judge isn't quite irate enough to actually rouse himself yet, though. No, he'll just stalk off in a foul temper.