(Untitled)

[notsonasty]

*He's sixteen years old, unmistakably good-looking (and oh, note how flattering the khakis are) although the current expression of utter confusion may not be his most attractive. It was all of ten minutes ago he was in his bedroom working on Latin, and now he's on a boat when he's never been on a boat in his life.*

. . . Wha-?

Typist: Bobby

Comments

[mmmnastykhakis]

Bobby Mayler. *grin of sketchiness*

[notsonasty]

. . . Where are we?

[mmmnastykhakis]

*can't help but stare* On a boat. No one seems to know where we're going.

[notsonasty]

*blinks* Oh. That's strange.

[graspingpearls]

... Leave while you still can. Or else they'll all break your heart.

[notsonasty]

*blinks* . . . What?

[graspingpearls]

Don't let any of them fool you.

[notsonasty]

Fool me? What are you talking about? *o_O* -- Weren't you dead?

[allshallknow]

*headtilts* Hello.

[notsonasty]

*blinks* Hello. Is everyone here?

[allshallknow]

No, but close.

[notsonasty]

Where is here, anyway?

[dontdosadness]

...*blinks a little* Bobby Mayler?

[notsonasty]

*o_O* . . . Moritz Stiefel?

[dontdosadness]

*vague amusion* No, I'm your Uncle Franz.

[notsonasty]

You died.