003: Luckily for him, the Commodore had studied up on his Ancient Rome; [Action]

[destinyunravels]

[ It wasn't often one saw Commodore Norrington without his trademark powdery white wig, immaculate curls decorating the sides, perfectly-tied dark bow in the back; and it definitely wasn't often one saw any kind of chest hair from the staunch, proper British man of the eighteenth century, but here he was, wig-less and in a poorly-tied toga (a.k.a

Comments

[notkinkypatch]

[That's cool, Norrington's Day Off, real smooth and relaxing ain't it? Well tough titties buttercup, have a blur of red and white basically collide with you and if that isn't enough, the whimpering, wheezing, clammy handed person wails out something that sounds kinda like 'Holy Dick Slots, Batman!' and rudely drags you into a narrow niche as armed soldiers and outraged citizens rush past the hiding spot, all they were missing were pitchforks and torches]

......Shit. I thought these fuckers were boner over fist with the whole n00ds thing. Fucking lack of belts... [Now might be the time to notice the familiar scent of cigarettes and the curtain of red hair, not that he's noticed Norrington yet, he just grabbed the nearest poor s.o.b]

[destinyunravels]

[ Norrington lets out an un-gentlemanly yelp as he's crashed into and then dragged in front of a small little alleyway as a small...mob? passed in front of him. He tried to look as natural as possible to avoid any sort of trouble--for here, he had a feeling nobody would respect his title of Commodore, such as they didn't back at that wretched manor--but caught a whiff of stale smoke, and, glancing down, saw the telltale ginger hair, from under which smoke rose in a snakelike curl.

Norrington sighed deeply, then hissed at the other man (not, like, literally hissed, but you know, that hissy-voice thing)-- ]

What the bloody hell are you doing? Am I harboring a fugitive now?

[notkinkypatch]

[As if many people respect him in general with that lopsided wig-
er, rather, Badou is less than impressed by the start of the bitch fest to come, pressed close to the wall protecting their asses and puffing like a steam engine, TOOT TOOOOOOT]
What the fuck is it with you an these work related puns, man? S'not a sitcom, fuck. You ain't 'harboring' [Here he twists to half face Norrington and inserts some air quotes, sneering] anythin' except a stick up your ass that's penetratin' your colon. Chillax, you just sit there an try not to get any more split ends.

[destinyunravels]

Puns...? [ Then Norrington realizes the whole 'harbor' thing and actually lets out a small laugh before clearing his throat dramatically and straightening his spine again ] I can assure you that was not my intent.

Anyway, here's the familiar song and dance - I'll pretend I know what a 'sitcom' is, or you'll vomit out some garbled explanation that will go straight over my head, and you'll continue smoking and hiding behind me, which is rather disconcerting considering you could peek up my toga at any point and I don't really fancy having any smoke up there, thank you very much.

What did you do this time to earn a mob chasing after you?

[ Norrington puts a hand out on the wall of the building that's one part of the sandwich (of WHICH (geddit, sandwich, which, yeah) they're the meat, trying to look totes natural and casual which isn't really something he does so much as he tries to emulate and fails miserably. in other words, he just looks like he has some sort of leg cramp. ]

[killer_melon]

[Well clearly the Commodore does not have enough foul-mouthed chain-smokers in his life. Clearly. So, heading back from one of the baths is a rather grumpy-looking teenager, who just so happened to catch said Commodore talking to himself, and of course he can't help but comment on it.]

It's a bad sign when you start talkin' to yourself.

[destinyunravels]

[ Norrington looks up and eyes a disgruntled-looking young man to be the owner of the voice he'd heard. He stops and raises his eyebrows in typical snarky!Norrington fashion. ]

You make a good point, I suppose. One has to take out frustration one way or another, hm? Are you from... [ he looks around furtively; this kid looks like he'd be one of Norrington's kind but he's not sure, and he's already witnessed how feisty these Romans can be ] ...the manor as well?

[killer_melon]

I'm from Italy, but yeah I got dragged here from the manor. Besides, how many Romans my age do you see with grey hair, genius.

[Granted people his age with grey hair weren't common where he was from either, but still. He had to make an ass of himself somehow.]

What's it to ya?

[destinyunravels]

Well, there's certainly no need to be a... [ from the 'genius' line the words 'petulant little brat' come to mind, but Norrington resists the nigh-uncontrollable urge and tries to find some semblance of politeness amidst snarkiness...which is pretty hard to do ] ...such a negative young man.

I'm merely checking for allies, assessing the situation, you see.