(Untitled)

[balletrat]

*Meg's sitting at a booth in the bar, with a fire extinguisher well within her sights.

Theoretically, she's working on a lesson plan.

But every fifteen seconds or so, her eyes dart up, scanning the bar for dancing. Which alas means she has not made much progress on the aforementioned lesson plan.*

Comments

[stilljustandrew]

*Andrew's making a slow circuit of the room, with a slightly smaller fire extinguisher tucked under his arm.*

*When he reaches her booth, he slumps into the seat opposite her.*

No fires yet.

[balletrat]

*Meg shakes her head.*

I haven't seen any either - nor even anyone singing tonight, though it was pretty bad last night.

*A small shudder.* I was talking to a girl yesterday when we got hit with a nasty one -

[stilljustandrew]

Nasty how?

[balletrat]

Nasty, *Meg says, a little grimly,* in that I'm positive the tune was something Christine sang at the Opera House - I mean. Note-for-note.

Subject matter wasn't too far off either, actually - so basically it was a flashback in the middle of a curse and altogether not fun.

[thelastearthman]

No dancing here. Just tea and confusion.

"Hello, Meg."

[balletrat]

Salut, Arthur -

*Meg grins at him, quickly, though it doesn't banish her worried expression.*

How're you?

[thelastearthman]

"Alright."

He eyes the fire extinguisher dubiously.

"Admittedly wondering what's been going on around here lately."

[balletrat]

*Meg makes a face.*

You haven't seen the posters?

- I mean, admittedly, I guess they're kind of cryptic - er, it's a demon. A really really scary demon.

[saionjisenpai]

Saionji is in the bar, trying to prove that his pop medley did not scare him off.

He heads to the Bar for a refill on his coffe, and hardly notice the bit of soft-shoe work on the way.

"Birth records, baptis-mal record..." Tappity tap. "Records of death."

[balletrat]

*Meg's head jerks up, as she hears the notes.

Also, the tapping.

For a moment, she ponders jumping him and shouting 'don't do it, you've got so much to live for!' before deciding that Saionji likely would not take that well.

So instead, carefully, she slips out of her seat, and starts edging towards the fire extinguisher.*

[saionjisenpai]

Saionji leans against the bar, trying to focus; trying to fight it.

And then he spins away from the bar, singing.

Jazz hands.

"A wet nurse and a midwife in the dark of the desert;
A golden-gilded Shangriiii-la!

Dayyyy and night reverrrrsing!

A ti-ime-gilded Par-adise!"

He snatches a broom from a passing Oomba Loompa, and breaks into something Meg might recognize; half a swordfight, half a dance.

"Darkness over Sodom--"

Faster.

"--darkness ever glowing--"

Faster.

"--darkness over yonder--"

Faster.

"--darkness everlaaaaaasting!"

[balletrat]

*Meg snatches up the fire extinguisher, and starts to edge her way back over to Saionji, eyeing him with great wariness. Possibly she should try peaceful methods first -

He shows no signs of slowing. And, in fact, Meg's starting to smell smoke - and are those singe marks on the wooden floor where he's passed?*

[_wonder_girl_]

"Pardon me, but what is that?"

Alice looks curious. This is not an unusual thing for her, but right now her curiosity has a specific target, that being the fire extinguisher.

[balletrat]

- oh - it's a fire extinguisher, *Meg says, helpfully, looking up, and smiles at the girl.*

Er - which means that it's a thing that puts out fires. I didn't know what it was either 'till the other day, they're kind of a modern invention -

[_wonder_girl_]

"Really?" Alice tilts her head, studying it. "How does it work?"

[balletrat]

Well -

*Meg picks the fire extinguisher up, the better to demonstrate.*

You only have to push this thing here, really, and this foamy stuff comes out, which is good for stopping fires - better than water, apparently, 'cause it's all - you know, scientific.

[timsbooks]

"La la la...."

He's gottten quite better, since the old days.

[balletrat]

*Meg's eyes widen; hastily, she fumbles for the fire extinguisher, and aims it threateningly.*

Tim, this is for your own good! *she shouts.*

[timsbooks]

He holds up a hand.

"Please, don't? These are nice clothes."

[balletrat]

*Meg eyes his feet, warily; her finger is still hovering treacherously near the button.*

. . . you're sure you're not going to burst into flames.