he'll hitch a ride with any guide.
Who: Jack Kelly and Alois Trancy.
When: afternoon, I suppose, today!
Where: THERE'S AN ICE RINK, RIGHT? That's where they are.
Summary: Alois has some really golden moments of hilarious failure. Who better than Jack Kelly to get the chance to watch?
Warnings: Foul mouthed heathens, the both of them.
Alois doesn't go out alone very often. At home - or, as he's come to try to think of it, before here - he hadn't gone out alone at all; at least one demon had always been walking with or shadowing him. These days that isn't so, but adults in the household fuss, so he usually keeps with someone.
This time he'd broken rules, of course. He'd slipped out on his own, leaving a vague note on the table, and he'd gone off to take care of his personal plans for the day, which apparently included glaring at a rented pair of ice skates. He hadn't even tried them on yet and already he was wondering whether he should have just gone ahead and bought his own. His boots were set to the side - nearly knee high, of course, and almost as dainty in form as skates on their own - and he twiddled his toes inside of his stockings. (Thick stockings, thanks to the weather, black-and-white stripped and woolen. Very comfortable, actually.) One of the skates was in his hands and he was halfway to sulking, looking down at it as though it had decided to argue with him about something. Maybe if he chucked it at the wall, he'd better discover its secrets.
Staring so suspiciously at footwear probably looked stranger than Alois intended.
His crazy eyeing of the poor skate aside, his coat was admittedly a little luxurious (fur lining, bow in the back, very shiny buttons, and all in a very nice color scheme of cream and lavender, becausr 85% of Alois Trancy's clothes require some sort of purple), and he hadn't dropped the habit of showing a little bit of thigh despite the cold. Having resorted to shaking the skate a little bit, he was currently mumbling what was likely to be a subdued string of curses against his muffler.
It's not that he'd had a bad idea in coming here or anything, it just already wasn't playing out exactly how he thought it might. So, sitting on the little bench, he curled his toes again and resigned himself to gingerly donning one of the skates.
When: afternoon, I suppose, today!
Where: THERE'S AN ICE RINK, RIGHT? That's where they are.
Summary: Alois has some really golden moments of hilarious failure. Who better than Jack Kelly to get the chance to watch?
Warnings: Foul mouthed heathens, the both of them.
Alois doesn't go out alone very often. At home - or, as he's come to try to think of it, before here - he hadn't gone out alone at all; at least one demon had always been walking with or shadowing him. These days that isn't so, but adults in the household fuss, so he usually keeps with someone.
This time he'd broken rules, of course. He'd slipped out on his own, leaving a vague note on the table, and he'd gone off to take care of his personal plans for the day, which apparently included glaring at a rented pair of ice skates. He hadn't even tried them on yet and already he was wondering whether he should have just gone ahead and bought his own. His boots were set to the side - nearly knee high, of course, and almost as dainty in form as skates on their own - and he twiddled his toes inside of his stockings. (Thick stockings, thanks to the weather, black-and-white stripped and woolen. Very comfortable, actually.) One of the skates was in his hands and he was halfway to sulking, looking down at it as though it had decided to argue with him about something. Maybe if he chucked it at the wall, he'd better discover its secrets.
Staring so suspiciously at footwear probably looked stranger than Alois intended.
His crazy eyeing of the poor skate aside, his coat was admittedly a little luxurious (fur lining, bow in the back, very shiny buttons, and all in a very nice color scheme of cream and lavender, becausr 85% of Alois Trancy's clothes require some sort of purple), and he hadn't dropped the habit of showing a little bit of thigh despite the cold. Having resorted to shaking the skate a little bit, he was currently mumbling what was likely to be a subdued string of curses against his muffler.
It's not that he'd had a bad idea in coming here or anything, it just already wasn't playing out exactly how he thought it might. So, sitting on the little bench, he curled his toes again and resigned himself to gingerly donning one of the skates.