"Cool!!" Chad yells from behind the man who had just appeared out of nowhere! "Are you a magician?" The fact that he, too, like the man, had appeared out of thin air when he had first arrived doesn't really register with Chad as he stares in wide-eyed amazement. But, then, not much registers with Chad. Ever.
He was so a magician, he had to be. He even had on funny clothes.
"Do you have a rabbit? Or a white tiger? Or doves? Do you saw people in half? Can you saw me in half?!"
With measured speed, John turned around, startled at the voice behind him. He cocked an eyebrow at the kid's words.
"None of the above, I'm afraid...." John, almost instinctively pulled his gun out from his holster and presented it to the boy. Aiming at his chest, John smiled.
Chad just blinks. He has the sense to be fearful of oceans and garden hoses and guys with white hair that rap about choking their bitches, but not guns to the chest. Especially not when those guns were in the hands of magicians. Even if that magician just denied his occupation.
Maybe he was a secret magician.
"Will it do what? It's your gun, how should I know what it'll do? Oh! Do it's shoot confetti? Or one of those little flags that says 'Bang!'?" Those were kind of lame tricks in Chad's book, but maybe he had to work up to the good stuff. He'd rather be sawed in half than pick confetti out of his hair.
Booth allowed his finger to rest on the trigger. His eyes never left the boy's. John realized that the man in front of him couldn't have been much younger than himself, but he was dressed ridiculously and acted as though he was a small boy.
"All I have to do is move my little finger." Booth muttered with a grin. With a flick, he had pulled the trigger and the barrel snapped. Nothing happened. Booth looked down at the gun. He pulled the trigger once more. Again, there was nothing.
If you looked closely at the trees surrounding the man, you might be able to see the boy lurking in them. But you might not, for Peter Pan had spent the morning practicing his disguises, and he was quite good indeed.
But one cannot disguise green eyes with mud or staying very still, so if the man looked up, he would see these same green eyes watching him curiously.
Men like John Wilkes Booth, time and dimension traveling assassins, didn't get scared at situations like these. Instead, John raised his eyebrows in a simple but impertinent confusion.
The world was brighter than he had past experienced, and far more empty. There was nothing around him except for trees and small bugs anxious to investigate his face and hair.
Booth took a cautious step and swatted at a bug that traveled up, past his face. As he sliced the air with his hand, he met eyes. That's it, just eyes. He didn't meet eyes with a woman or a man, or even a blasted dog, there were just eyes, and now, John Wilkes Booth was scared.
He met the man's gaze for a few moments and then narrowed his eyes at being found out. He wondered how the Indians dealt with people seeing their eyes like that - he'd have to ask Ayla for advice.
Peter dropped out of the trees then, because there's not much point in hiding once someone's seen you. He was all covered in various sorts of brown and green, from his t-shirt and shorts to the drying mud carefully covering his hands and feet and the verdant leaves in his hair.
There was no more holding of the cool, measured composure that was a Booth family trait. John, at seeing the boy drop from the trees, leaped back in terror.
"AH! A DEVIL CHILD! A SMALL CANNIBAL BOY!" Booth screamed. His voice resonated and echoed through the trees as he, out of absolute terror fumbled for his gun
Anita found herself in the jungle on her run that morning. She hadn't meant to go so far, but then she'd been doing quite a bit of thinking. She was growing content on the Island, and maybe that contentment scared her just a bit.
"Are you okay?" The gentleman she had just run into had the look that she had began to associate with the people who had just arrived.
She shrugged. "I usually don't run into many people out here." Of course, it wasn't like being this far out was a daily thing for her.
"I'm on my way back if you want to tag along." Since she wasn't sure if he was lost or not it seemed the best thing to do to offer. After that it would be up to him.
Booth shifted for a moment, thinking quickly on what to do. The short, friendly girl seemed stable enough for Booth to be in control had anything happened.
"That sounds fine." Booth said simply, turning and following the girl. "Where are you on your way back to, exactly?"
Sometimes, a man in a relationship needed tome to himself. Time to be free, to be a man, and not have the electronic chattering of his robotic significant other grating against the fragile inner workings of his delicate eardrums. As it was, Charles switched Cassandra off for the day and leaned her against the corner of his room in the compound, and was enjoying a rather sunny and delightfully femmebot free stroll.
He hadn't been expecting the company he encountered, however.
"Hello, John!" He greeted enthsiastically, eyes lighting up when he spotted the familar shiny wasitcoat and uncanny head of hair. "It certainly took you long enough. Have you any idea how difficult it is to sing a barbershop harmony with one singer? It's dreadful."
Comments 60
He was so a magician, he had to be. He even had on funny clothes.
"Do you have a rabbit? Or a white tiger? Or doves? Do you saw people in half? Can you saw me in half?!"
Reply
"None of the above, I'm afraid...." John, almost instinctively pulled his gun out from his holster and presented it to the boy. Aiming at his chest, John smiled.
"I do have this, though. Will it do?"
Reply
Maybe he was a secret magician.
"Will it do what? It's your gun, how should I know what it'll do? Oh! Do it's shoot confetti? Or one of those little flags that says 'Bang!'?" Those were kind of lame tricks in Chad's book, but maybe he had to work up to the good stuff. He'd rather be sawed in half than pick confetti out of his hair.
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"All I have to do is move my little finger." Booth muttered with a grin. With a flick, he had pulled the trigger and the barrel snapped. Nothing happened. Booth looked down at the gun. He pulled the trigger once more. Again, there was nothing.
"Hell."
Reply
But one cannot disguise green eyes with mud or staying very still, so if the man looked up, he would see these same green eyes watching him curiously.
Reply
The world was brighter than he had past experienced, and far more empty. There was nothing around him except for trees and small bugs anxious to investigate his face and hair.
Booth took a cautious step and swatted at a bug that traveled up, past his face. As he sliced the air with his hand, he met eyes. That's it, just eyes. He didn't meet eyes with a woman or a man, or even a blasted dog, there were just eyes, and now, John Wilkes Booth was scared.
Reply
Peter dropped out of the trees then, because there's not much point in hiding once someone's seen you. He was all covered in various sorts of brown and green, from his t-shirt and shorts to the drying mud carefully covering his hands and feet and the verdant leaves in his hair.
Reply
"AH! A DEVIL CHILD! A SMALL CANNIBAL BOY!" Booth screamed. His voice resonated and echoed through the trees as he, out of absolute terror fumbled for his gun
Reply
"Are you okay?" The gentleman she had just run into had the look that she had began to associate with the people who had just arrived.
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"I'm doing just well..." His voice trailed off and he looked around, pretending to have an intention for being there.
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"I'm on my way back if you want to tag along." Since she wasn't sure if he was lost or not it seemed the best thing to do to offer. After that it would be up to him.
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"That sounds fine." Booth said simply, turning and following the girl. "Where are you on your way back to, exactly?"
Reply
He hadn't been expecting the company he encountered, however.
"Hello, John!" He greeted enthsiastically, eyes lighting up when he spotted the familar shiny wasitcoat and uncanny head of hair. "It certainly took you long enough. Have you any idea how difficult it is to sing a barbershop harmony with one singer? It's dreadful."
Reply
"Why have you followed me, Charles?" His tone was cool, measured, slightly disturbed.
Reply
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