[Alice] Job 009 :: The Camisado Job [Written/Action] {BACKDATED to late night on the 7th}
[For anyone in community house seven hoping to get some sleep... well, sorry for the commotion up on the third floor. No need to be alarmed, it's not a mallynapping, just two crazies with DID slugging it out. Things will quiet down after a few minutes. When it does, a message will come over the journal The handwriting is shaky and a little sloppy. Readable, but just barely. The camera is covered by a napkin with a few smudges of bright red on it.]
[Written]
If anyone runs into a punky shithead kid with light colored hair looking for a fight, keep the fuck away from him. It's for your own damn safety.
[There's a few seconds before another message is hastily written in.]
And if you're in community house seven, sorry for the commotion. All under control now. No need to be alarmed.
[Action]
[After the message goes out, anyone who may wish to investigate further will find the writer, Alice, sitting in the kitchen. She's quite the mess, bloody lip, bleeding nose, face looking quite bruised. Her left hand has a bag of ice resting on it while her right is gingerly petting an orange kitten sitting on the table, lapping away at a bowl filled with milk. Because kittens like milk, right? It's the right thing to give a kitten, right? Every inch of her body is tense and her wings flutter anxiously. When someone comes through the door, she quickly turns to look at them, practically growling until she realizes it's not someone out to hurt her or the kitten she's protectively watching.
Approach cautiously. Injured animals tend to be snappy.]
((ooc; Aftermath of this log. All replies will be from Alice.))
[Written]
If anyone runs into a punky shithead kid with light colored hair looking for a fight, keep the fuck away from him. It's for your own damn safety.
[There's a few seconds before another message is hastily written in.]
And if you're in community house seven, sorry for the commotion. All under control now. No need to be alarmed.
[Action]
[After the message goes out, anyone who may wish to investigate further will find the writer, Alice, sitting in the kitchen. She's quite the mess, bloody lip, bleeding nose, face looking quite bruised. Her left hand has a bag of ice resting on it while her right is gingerly petting an orange kitten sitting on the table, lapping away at a bowl filled with milk. Because kittens like milk, right? It's the right thing to give a kitten, right? Every inch of her body is tense and her wings flutter anxiously. When someone comes through the door, she quickly turns to look at them, practically growling until she realizes it's not someone out to hurt her or the kitten she's protectively watching.
Approach cautiously. Injured animals tend to be snappy.]
((ooc; Aftermath of this log. All replies will be from Alice.))