And the body language. She has been to America on behalf of Mukuro-sama, to deal with associates, and this man, with his suit and his mannerisms, looks remarkably like someone who would be seen at one of the conferences of the elite, perhaps an associate of the Tenth, although Chrome has not met him. Yet, regardless of his appearance, she thinks he might be uninvolved in the famiglia, save for the words he says:
(It does seem like them to fuck this up. But the British also... dislike getting dirt under their nails.)
Words of conspiracy. British. Espionage.
(Shoot.)
A command demanding assassination.
(Bears.)
A code word?
Yes, it is likely that he is one of them. But which one? Does he belong to Varia? Or he is merely an assistant on the marketing side -- a money-keeper, perhaps? One of the many she has traded and bargained with over the phone?
Her typically deferential body language abates. If this man is of the mafia -- ]
[His eyes dropped down sharply to the glowing screen, taking in the Asian features and eyepatch. That question implies his identity remains unknown to his captors, and that he is perhaps unimportant to their campaign. And further, that he may secure his own safety through careful use of his vast cultural knowledge. An intense five seconds of contemplation pass and he comes to one conclusion: Chinese pirates.
Afterall, the great blue is due to be... well, not blue soon. And the blame may erroneously fall upon America and their greatest figures--
Mayhaps, it would be best to assume his alter ego, to lure her into a false sense of likeness until he ascertains their intentions. His voice takes on a terrible impersonation.]
Ching-Chong Ding-Dong, madame, and I am here as- [Fraction of a second.] -an ambassador... to align interests so that our people may stand together as allies. I've always supported the right to bear arms-and hooks-, if that means anything.
[Lenalee blinks once. Then again. British and... bears? Eyebrows furrow in confusion. What...? Well the newcomer is obviously quite confused, and with all of the strange (even by this world’s standards) things that have been going on lately, it seems best to talk to him. He may not have anyone else here to greet him.]
Hello, sir?
[It's a little awkward to address a complete stranger like this, especially an older man; up until now most of the people she's talked with seemed to be around her age.]
Ah, don't be frightened. My name is Lenalee Lee. Do you need some help?
He knew it. And both female... he's seeing a pattern. Is this perhaps the conspiracy he had been slated to discuss this very night. How convenient. This must have been their idea from the start; to force males into a wooded area to fight for their lives while the wome-oh, he means womyn- eat bon bons and laugh at their oppression. Well, he won't stand for it. Especially now when this grass is so comfortable.]
Don't sir me. I'm on to you, ma'am. [The grown man has a hard time maintain his serious expression when the bushes rustle- and he glances around before conceding:] Fortunately for your nation-and gender-, I'm open to a truce.
[Suspicion is a natural response to confusion, in some cases. She shouldn't take it personally. But her nation and gender...? Best to just go with it.]
[Default win since he proposed the truce, decidedly.
A surprising triumph since China puts such effort into their Happy Farm games, though he admittedly hasn't been jumped by a rooster yet. Light slides across his frames with a nervous glance to the progressively growing bushes.]
How soon will I be returned? And more importantly, how soon will I be directed to a man toilet?
The face staring back at him is young, male and potentially American. Which clashes with much of what he initially assumed. Still, perhaps a gamer and teenager, both of which have a dark track record in the history of the world.]
[And an excessively startled expression crosses his face before he tenses up his mouth for a show of bravado to last approximately ten seconds. Or until the breeze rustles the bush again. Andddd there.
Stephen lowers himself in preparation to play dead, even as he stares into the screen desperately. Asian, despite those golden locks. Do they all have his number?]
I'm not Obama. [Mutters.] Or a man. Whichever matters.
And sure enough, his screen is displaying a real-life version of the long since deceased hero of heroes, doer of good and upholder of the red, white and blues. The protagonist who makes patriotism and spandex hip. The only one man enough to bear it all in tri-colored undies.]
[Video | Public]steelandstarsJune 18 2010, 02:21:26 UTC
[This man knows him?
Could it be they're from the same Earth? Or at least a very similar one? ]
Uh, yes. It's actually a long story, bur I wasn't actually dead. You know how it can me, time travel and that kind of thing-- The Red Skull was involved, but I'm back now.
Re: [Video | Public]sir_colbert_dfaJune 18 2010, 17:37:36 UTC
[Of course!
His expression reflects the amazement of a child finding merely crumbs of gingerbread men on the plate and neatly wrapped gifts snuggly stuffed under their tree. Only this is better. He's only been contacted by Uncle Sam and Ronald Reagan-- so this is another experience entirely. The Captain America. He may have hit his head, but it's entirely possible he's here to correct the spill and zap Bush back into his rightful seat.
These thoughts and lights all flash in throughout his mind during the explanation, and Stephen all but misses it. He rests down upon his stomach.]
Well, of courseee I do. Psh, who wouldn't. [Abruptly, the threat of bears is secondary.] Are you here to give me advice then?
[Mutters as though bragging to himself.] I totally called this.
Comments 63
Certainly.
And the body language. She has been to America on behalf of Mukuro-sama, to deal with associates, and this man, with his suit and his mannerisms, looks remarkably like someone who would be seen at one of the conferences of the elite, perhaps an associate of the Tenth, although Chrome has not met him. Yet, regardless of his appearance, she thinks he might be uninvolved in the famiglia, save for the words he says:
(It does seem like them to fuck this up. But the British also... dislike getting dirt under their nails.)
Words of conspiracy. British. Espionage.
(Shoot.)
A command demanding assassination.
(Bears.)
A code word?
Yes, it is likely that he is one of them. But which one? Does he belong to Varia? Or he is merely an assistant on the marketing side -- a money-keeper, perhaps? One of the many she has traded and bargained with over the phone?
Her typically deferential body language abates. If this man is of the mafia -- ]
Your name and association, sir?
Reply
Afterall, the great blue is due to be... well, not blue soon. And the blame may erroneously fall upon America and their greatest figures--
Mayhaps, it would be best to assume his alter ego, to lure her into a false sense of likeness until he ascertains their intentions. His voice takes on a terrible impersonation.]
Ching-Chong Ding-Dong, madame, and I am here as- [Fraction of a second.] -an ambassador... to align interests so that our people may stand together as allies. I've always supported the right to bear arms-and hooks-, if that means anything.
[Oh. Oh, he's good.]
Reply
Reply
Hello, sir?
[It's a little awkward to address a complete stranger like this, especially an older man; up until now most of the people she's talked with seemed to be around her age.]
Ah, don't be frightened. My name is Lenalee Lee. Do you need some help?
Reply
He knew it. And both female... he's seeing a pattern. Is this perhaps the conspiracy he had been slated to discuss this very night. How convenient. This must have been their idea from the start; to force males into a wooded area to fight for their lives while the wome-oh, he means womyn- eat bon bons and laugh at their oppression. Well, he won't stand for it. Especially now when this grass is so comfortable.]
Don't sir me. I'm on to you, ma'am. [The grown man has a hard time maintain his serious expression when the bushes rustle- and he glances around before conceding:] Fortunately for your nation-and gender-, I'm open to a truce.
Reply
[Suspicion is a natural response to confusion, in some cases. She shouldn't take it personally. But her nation and gender...? Best to just go with it.]
Okay, a truce sounds good.
Reply
A surprising triumph since China puts such effort into their Happy Farm games, though he admittedly hasn't been jumped by a rooster yet. Light slides across his frames with a nervous glance to the progressively growing bushes.]
How soon will I be returned? And more importantly, how soon will I be directed to a man toilet?
Reply
I'm sure there's plenty of bears around.
Reply
What are your demands?
Reply
Your name would be nice, I guess.
Reply
[Still whispering.
The face staring back at him is young, male and potentially American. Which clashes with much of what he initially assumed. Still, perhaps a gamer and teenager, both of which have a dark track record in the history of the world.]
Now, when is the rescue team arriving?
Reply
[This bizarrely dressed blonde woman appears horrified and confused by your allegation of bears. Explain yourself!]
Reply
Stephen lowers himself in preparation to play dead, even as he stares into the screen desperately. Asian, despite those golden locks. Do they all have his number?]
I'm not Obama. [Mutters.] Or a man. Whichever matters.
Reply
Clearly, this man is in need of assistance.]
Sir? My name is Steve Rogers, do you need some help?
Reply
[Steven Rogers.
And sure enough, his screen is displaying a real-life version of the long since deceased hero of heroes, doer of good and upholder of the red, white and blues. The protagonist who makes patriotism and spandex hip. The only one man enough to bear it all in tri-colored undies.]
Steven Rogers? [Breathless.] You're alive?
Reply
Could it be they're from the same Earth? Or at least a very similar one? ]
Uh, yes. It's actually a long story, bur I wasn't actually dead. You know how it can me, time travel and that kind of thing-- The Red Skull was involved, but I'm back now.
[A pause.]
You recognize me, then?
Reply
His expression reflects the amazement of a child finding merely crumbs of gingerbread men on the plate and neatly wrapped gifts snuggly stuffed under their tree. Only this is better. He's only been contacted by Uncle Sam and Ronald Reagan-- so this is another experience entirely. The Captain America. He may have hit his head, but it's entirely possible he's here to correct the spill and zap Bush back into his rightful seat.
These thoughts and lights all flash in throughout his mind during the explanation, and Stephen all but misses it. He rests down upon his stomach.]
Well, of courseee I do. Psh, who wouldn't. [Abruptly, the threat of bears is secondary.] Are you here to give me advice then?
[Mutters as though bragging to himself.] I totally called this.
Reply
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