*DEATH strolls into the clinic with a pile of official looking papers in his hands. He seems to be working on something. Periodically you notice what looks like a Victoria's Secret catalog at which DEATH scratches his head. Or skull.
His rubber duck seems to be absent.*
((OOC: DEATH!mun is heading to bed. Feel free to bleed all over the floor,
(
Read more... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
ACCORDING TO THIS... DEATH holds up a copy of Seventeen... MEN DO NOT THINK WELL WHEN CONFRONTED WITH LINGERIE AND CLEVAGE.
Reply
[[ooc: *dies and is dead*]]
Reply
*DEATH holds up his copy of Getting What You Want From Men*
THIS GOES INTO GREATER DETAIL. FASHION IS MORE THAN JUST SNAPPY CLOTHES, IT IS...*DEATH pauses, as if the words are unfamilar or contrived*...POISE AND PSYCHOLOGICAL EXPECTATION. I PLAN TO MASTER THIS BEFORE MY NEXT MEETING WITH THE DEAN.
*DEATH, if such a thing were possible, seems very confident and self-assured. Still, he lowers his Voice, which is a disturbing sensation indeed.*
I AM A LITTLE WORRIED, HOWEVER. I AM NOT SURE HOW TO CONTRIVE THE PROPER ANATOMY FOR THIS PURPOSE, OR HOW TO... WORK MY WILES? I MAY GO AND SPEAK TO SOME OF THE MORE EXPERIENCED LADIES IN TOWN REGARDING THIS TOMORROW.
Reply
Reply
*DEATH, if possible, seems slightly annoyed at the mention of the woman. He taps his fingers quietly against the desk, as if keeping very precise time.*
AND SHE IS... UH... IN GOOD HEALTH I ASSUME?
Reply
Reply
*DEATH's voice trails off slightly.*
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment