During one of the pauses in Mar's singing, an impatient Valerie hangs around in the hallway. Impatiently. Dammit, she needs to shower too, and the as-yet-unknown personage inside is impeding that.
...so tempting to just whip out a very small tentacle and pick the lock. She's done it before; it's easy as pie with these fiddly little bathroom doors.
In another thirty seconds she'll probably give in.
Yeah, Marley picked the worst time to turn towards the door, really.
There's a moment of indecision while Marley tries to decide exactly what to cover up, but eventually he goes for hurriedly wrapping a towel around his waist. Thus, his scars are really rather exposed. They're not exactly alright-looking, faded scars. Rather, they appear to criss-cross across the majority of his torso, and don't seem to have healed properly at all.
Possibly his arms are worse. The scars extend down to his elbows, and from his wrists up, there are rings of burns.
Marley is at a loss for words, a little, but he does make an incoherent 'get out!' noise.
At a later point, Marley will probably go 'gnrk, ack, ack, no, she saw me totally naked whut' but for now he is more concerned with 'gnrk, ack, ack, no, she be seeing my scars. Arr.'
And from the other side of the door says, in her best don't-fuck-with-me tone, "If you think you're getting away without telling me whose ass I need to kick for that, think again, buddy."
"Hmm, yeah, lemme think about that one for a minute. Taking a shower, or finding out why my best friend looks like he had an argument with a cheese grater and lost. Gee, which one d'you think I'll pick?"
When worried, Val resorts to sarcasm! This should not be surprising.
...so tempting to just whip out a very small tentacle and pick the lock. She's done it before; it's easy as pie with these fiddly little bathroom doors.
In another thirty seconds she'll probably give in.
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The door, however, doesn't open. Marley takes a while to dress, okay?
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Out comes the white light, extending from her palm, and clicklicklick goes the lock.
Val knows this action isn't going to make her any friends, but what the hell. She needs her showers!
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It's like a slasher film, really. Or would be, if Val had a meat cleaver. Does she?
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Which means she gets a full view of Marley in a state of undress.
THAT WAS UNEXPECTED.
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There's a moment of indecision while Marley tries to decide exactly what to cover up, but eventually he goes for hurriedly wrapping a towel around his waist. Thus, his scars are really rather exposed. They're not exactly alright-looking, faded scars. Rather, they appear to criss-cross across the majority of his torso, and don't seem to have healed properly at all.
Possibly his arms are worse. The scars extend down to his elbows, and from his wrists up, there are rings of burns.
Marley is at a loss for words, a little, but he does make an incoherent 'get out!' noise.
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And after a moment's staring manages to a) blush like mad and b) exclaim "Holy fucking shit, Mar, what the hell...?!"
Shutting the door and backing away? No, not really. She'll get to it in a moment, we're sure.
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"Get out." Waving one hand.
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And from the other side of the door says, in her best don't-fuck-with-me tone, "If you think you're getting away without telling me whose ass I need to kick for that, think again, buddy."
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He continues to ignore her when he comes stalking out a few moments later, fully dressed.
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One very gentle white tendril snakes around his waist, halting him.
"Ahem," says Val, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.
If only she were better at this sort of thing she might have something reassuring or sympathetic to say.
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"Shouldn't you be taking a shower? Since you want to so much."
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When worried, Val resorts to sarcasm! This should not be surprising.
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Anyway.
"The shower? If it's important enough for you to pick the lock."
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BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT.
"Dammit, Mar. Fucking talk to me, would you?"
She cares! She's brash and annoying and has a total disregard for consequences, but she cares.
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