Well, she's been called worse, and, clad in her bikini and halfway to the water, Brooke turns with her composure still intact. It lasts about as long as it takes to catch sight of the giant gun he's waving around in his big plastic...box thing.
"Well, it looks like somebody locked you up," she replies, smacking her hand against the plastic right back. Hopefully it's like. Bulletproof. "And with the way you're waving that thing around I don't blame them!"
Nathan doesn't remember this one-- and he likely would've remembered her prancing about in a bikini like she is-- but she's bound to know what's happened. Either that, or she can point him towards someone more important who knows what's happened to the studio and why someone's moved him.
"What are you talkin' about?" he asks, and he swings the door open to exit the booth, confused, "I'm here for the broadcast. Remember the broadcast? I'm guessin' they don't keep you around for your brains, huh?"
"For my - " It's rare that Brooke is rendered speechless, but when she is, it's only the calm before the storm. "Okay first off, there is no they, only a dickwad island with a god complex, which for once made the right call of bringing you in pre-packaged so I don't slap your face off - "
She cuts off, all at once aware that while her vision was whiting out in rage, he's exited his handy little cage, gun still in hand. With a blood curdling scream, Brooke pulls her fist back, letting it fly to punch him right in the nose.
And suddenly he's reeling back, one hand going to his nose to cover it when she punches him.
"Hey! What was that for?!" he shouts as his vision starts to clear, as his nose throbs and his eyes water. It's not that Nathan hasn't been punched in the face before, but today's supposed to be all about him. He didn't sign on for this. After the broadcast, there were supposed to women and canapes! Women who weren't punching him in the face for no reason, to be exact.
"I didn't say they weren't nice tits!" Nathan points at one, then the other, not getting the connection between his getting punched and the fact that he's pointing at her tits with his gun. His other hand's busy covering his face, after all.
"...how the fuck should I know?" Arya said, in the course of walking around the box, trying to work out what it was for. It hadn't been there when she'd passed by last, she knew that. "You're the one inside it."
Whose blood was that? He wasn't wounded, although there was blood on his face. But no one else inside for it to have come from, but there should have been, because that was brains, too, wasn't it? Someone died inside that box, and recently.
He had a gun, too. She hadn't brought hers. Just her swords, as always.
"Yeah, well... you're the one outside it!" Nathan replies, then realizes how daft it is that he's still standing in there, so he swings open the door and exits. He waves the gun about as he continues to speak and gesture with both hands. "Where's the studio gone? If you've brought me here to sexually assault me, I'll have you know that I'm not gonna take that lyin' down! Or... standin' up, for that matter."
He never thought that one day, he'd end up with psycho fans, but here he is, apparently. At least this one's not too bad looking.
She kept an eye, not just on the gun, but on the ranting man, on everything. But she did pay extra attention to the gun. She wondered if she should take it off him.
"If you'll stop waving that around like an idiot, I'll tell you," she said, glaring slightly. "No one wants to sexually assault you."
"Oh, don't tell me you wouldn't," Nathan replies, turning to show off his magnificent arse. He pulls up the tails of his tuxedo so she can get an eyeful when he gives it a good slap.
By this point, I had been on the island four whole years, and let me tell you, when you live on Tabula Rasa, you can pack a lot of strange experiences into four years. I'd welcomed a lot of people to the wonders of life in a desert island society, and this was far from the first time one of them had been wielding a gun. It was, however, definitely the first time one of them had arrived in a big, plexiglass box coated with bits of brain on the inside.
(I should probably point out here that it wasn't the bits of brain and skull that gave me pause, but the box. When you've seen your own brain splattered across the sidewalk, it kind of takes the impact out of seeing someone else's splattered anywhere.)
"You just hopped dimensions!" I called as I stopped a couple of feet away in my bikini. "If I let you out of there, it would be awesome if you would refrain from shooting me!"
"What are you talkin' about?" Nathan shouts back at her, confused. Let him out? He's the one who walked in there on his own! Except, he'd been promised fame, fortune and fanny, not whatever this is. Annoyed, he exits the booth, gesturing almost wildly with both hands.
"What's happened to the studio? This better not be any of that Survivor bullshit, 'cause I didn't sign on for that!"
So many people showed up trapped in something-Cages, Port-o-lets-that I'd just assumed he couldn't get out. It made me wonder why he hadn't exited the box immediately, though. Personally, I would choose the fresh air of a beach over blood and brains, but to each his own.
"You hopped dimensions," I repeated, a calm but steady eye on the handgun. "Do you know the Twilight Zone? It's kind of like that, but with less Shatner." Somehow, I got the feeling this guy wasn't going to benefit much from a less gentle approach to explaining the island.
"Or... it's kind of like you've kidnapped me and are planning to take advantage of my body in unspeakable ways," Nathan replies pointing at her, first with the hand the gun's in before he realizes that's probably not such a good plan and switches hands.
Though truthfully, with her, he's not so sure he'd mind much. She's a bit short for his tastes, but he can manage. He's like a sexual chameleon. He'll adapt.
"No one's been shoved into anywhere. Didn't you see the broadcast?" Nathan replies as he opens the door and exits, whirling around once when his feet touch sand. Whoever's done this has gone to a lot of trouble to move him. He really ought to think about getting a bodyguard once this is over and he's back. One of the big ugly ones with some kind of facial scarring.
"Besides, there was only one bullet in this thing," he adds as he continues to gesture with the gun in his hand. Only, his finger suddenly slips, and the next thing he knows, the gun's gone off in his hand, bullet flying out to sea. The resulting gunshot is loud enough that it seems to echo, and Nathan immediately crouches down to cover his head, the gun dropping out of his hands and onto the sand.
A broadcast, Faye thinks to herself. Not exactly what she expected, but it goes a long way in explaining his attitude, the flippancy and the entitlement that are in his voice, like someone who's accustomed to the spotlight and to having things catered his way, somehow. All things considered, she shouldn't be half as irritated as she is (who's she to criticize, after all, when she behaves in the same way herself, taking and taking and often waiting for someone to roll out the red carpet), but these days, the island's proving to be a greater burden than expected, and it leaves her just a bit raw.
The fired shot only worsens things.
"Are you kidding me?" she asks, heart racing at a mile a minute as she steps forward and picks it out of the sand, setting the safety and waiting for the heat to die down as it hangs loosely in her hand. "Watch where you point this thing! Can't you see that you aren't where you were a few minutes ago? Suddenly having a loaded gun wouldn't be much more of a stretch."
"No, no, I had the gun before," Nathan says as he waves it off, pretending that he wasn't just crouched over like a frightened little girl at the sound of a gunshot. Getting shot itself's not too bad, after all. At least not if he dies as a result of it. It wasn't too bad, when he considers all of the alternatives.
Of course, this likely means that the next time, someone'll take a chainsaw to him or something, but he's not going to dwell on that just yet. Instead, there's the lady and the beach in front of him to consider.
"Where've you taken me? If you're one of those psycho fans, let me tell you that this is not the way to go about getting a shag from a celebrity." He reconsiders. "Okay, so maybe it is, but I'm frowning on it first!"
It was too early for this shit. Seriously. He'd only just gotten the talk a few days ago. He wasn't ready to give it to somebody else.
But having watched the dude in his little plastic box-- packaged away like a life-sized Ken doll, tuxedo and all, appear out of nowhere, it wasn't like Puck could deny that the guy was all shiny and new.
"Quit waving the piece around and maybe I'll tell you," Puck called back, tapping on the plastic with a smirk and wiggling his fingers in a little wave.
"And just who're you supposed to be?" Nathan asks, face scrunching into a frown as he tries to figure out who might've sent this cunt around. He doesn't lower the gun at all, both hands pressed against the wall of the booth now. What's happened to the beautiful women? There's supposed to be someone waiting for him after he's done the broadcast to feed him grapes and shit. Or to shag him.
"Why've you brought me here? And why does your head look like someone's given you a bikini wax?"
"Dude, trust me, if I was going to bring somebody here? It would not be you," Puck said, his own face scrunching into a skeptical grimace.
Oh, hell no, this dick did not just insult the 'hawk.
"I dunno, man. With that untrimmed bush you've got going," he said, waving in the general direction of the guy's curly mop of hair, "I don't know if you're one to talk."
"This is what they call a 'majestic mane'," Nathan replies. Jesus, it's like he's never seen someone with hair that's as glorious as his before. Fuckin' Americans, man.
Nathan's quiet for a moment as he looks the bloke up and down, and for a split second, it seems as though he might be ready to give the guy a chance to explain. That is, of course, until he opens his mouth. "So can the Asian ladies down at the parlor even tell the difference between your head and a lady's twat, or is it like a regular day at work for them?"
Really, how's anyone supposed to take this guy seriously?
Comments 53
"Well, it looks like somebody locked you up," she replies, smacking her hand against the plastic right back. Hopefully it's like. Bulletproof. "And with the way you're waving that thing around I don't blame them!"
Reply
Nathan doesn't remember this one-- and he likely would've remembered her prancing about in a bikini like she is-- but she's bound to know what's happened. Either that, or she can point him towards someone more important who knows what's happened to the studio and why someone's moved him.
"What are you talkin' about?" he asks, and he swings the door open to exit the booth, confused, "I'm here for the broadcast. Remember the broadcast? I'm guessin' they don't keep you around for your brains, huh?"
Reply
She cuts off, all at once aware that while her vision was whiting out in rage, he's exited his handy little cage, gun still in hand. With a blood curdling scream, Brooke pulls her fist back, letting it fly to punch him right in the nose.
Reply
"Hey! What was that for?!" he shouts as his vision starts to clear, as his nose throbs and his eyes water. It's not that Nathan hasn't been punched in the face before, but today's supposed to be all about him. He didn't sign on for this. After the broadcast, there were supposed to women and canapes! Women who weren't punching him in the face for no reason, to be exact.
"I didn't say they weren't nice tits!" Nathan points at one, then the other, not getting the connection between his getting punched and the fact that he's pointing at her tits with his gun. His other hand's busy covering his face, after all.
I want to speak to your supervisor!" he demands.
Reply
Whose blood was that? He wasn't wounded, although there was blood on his face. But no one else inside for it to have come from, but there should have been, because that was brains, too, wasn't it? Someone died inside that box, and recently.
He had a gun, too. She hadn't brought hers. Just her swords, as always.
Reply
He never thought that one day, he'd end up with psycho fans, but here he is, apparently. At least this one's not too bad looking.
Reply
"If you'll stop waving that around like an idiot, I'll tell you," she said, glaring slightly. "No one wants to sexually assault you."
She looked him up and down, pointedly. "Ever."
Reply
She's got to be joking.
Reply
(I should probably point out here that it wasn't the bits of brain and skull that gave me pause, but the box. When you've seen your own brain splattered across the sidewalk, it kind of takes the impact out of seeing someone else's splattered anywhere.)
"You just hopped dimensions!" I called as I stopped a couple of feet away in my bikini. "If I let you out of there, it would be awesome if you would refrain from shooting me!"
Reply
"What's happened to the studio? This better not be any of that Survivor bullshit, 'cause I didn't sign on for that!"
Reply
"You hopped dimensions," I repeated, a calm but steady eye on the handgun. "Do you know the Twilight Zone? It's kind of like that, but with less Shatner." Somehow, I got the feeling this guy wasn't going to benefit much from a less gentle approach to explaining the island.
Reply
Though truthfully, with her, he's not so sure he'd mind much. She's a bit short for his tastes, but he can manage. He's like a sexual chameleon. He'll adapt.
Reply
Reply
"Besides, there was only one bullet in this thing," he adds as he continues to gesture with the gun in his hand. Only, his finger suddenly slips, and the next thing he knows, the gun's gone off in his hand, bullet flying out to sea. The resulting gunshot is loud enough that it seems to echo, and Nathan immediately crouches down to cover his head, the gun dropping out of his hands and onto the sand.
Reply
The fired shot only worsens things.
"Are you kidding me?" she asks, heart racing at a mile a minute as she steps forward and picks it out of the sand, setting the safety and waiting for the heat to die down as it hangs loosely in her hand. "Watch where you point this thing! Can't you see that you aren't where you were a few minutes ago? Suddenly having a loaded gun wouldn't be much more of a stretch."
Reply
Of course, this likely means that the next time, someone'll take a chainsaw to him or something, but he's not going to dwell on that just yet. Instead, there's the lady and the beach in front of him to consider.
"Where've you taken me? If you're one of those psycho fans, let me tell you that this is not the way to go about getting a shag from a celebrity." He reconsiders. "Okay, so maybe it is, but I'm frowning on it first!"
Reply
But having watched the dude in his little plastic box-- packaged away like a life-sized Ken doll, tuxedo and all, appear out of nowhere, it wasn't like Puck could deny that the guy was all shiny and new.
"Quit waving the piece around and maybe I'll tell you," Puck called back, tapping on the plastic with a smirk and wiggling his fingers in a little wave.
Reply
"Why've you brought me here? And why does your head look like someone's given you a bikini wax?"
Reply
Oh, hell no, this dick did not just insult the 'hawk.
"I dunno, man. With that untrimmed bush you've got going," he said, waving in the general direction of the guy's curly mop of hair, "I don't know if you're one to talk."
Reply
Nathan's quiet for a moment as he looks the bloke up and down, and for a split second, it seems as though he might be ready to give the guy a chance to explain. That is, of course, until he opens his mouth. "So can the Asian ladies down at the parlor even tell the difference between your head and a lady's twat, or is it like a regular day at work for them?"
Really, how's anyone supposed to take this guy seriously?
Reply
Leave a comment