open.

[anopsiatic]

Characters: anopsiatic and you
Location: In your kitchen
Time: Before it runs out
Style: Disco
Status: Poisoned. But open.

[Open the door to a house that you don't remember ever living in, walk through the bedroom that you don't remember ever having slept in, past the couch that you certainly didn't scrawl your name all over (but it's there, anyway, like

Comments

I couldn't resist

[glorious_mercy]

[Sephiroth is currently standing within his kitchen's doorway, dressed in that annoying outfit still, though he hopes to have it gone tomorrow morning at best, as well as this mask covering the upper half of the man's face.

The only thing out of place really beyond that was the fact the man is currently holding onto a nearly six foot long katana in one hand as he watches Break rummage through his kitchen in hidden disbelief.]

Excuse me...how did you get into my apartment?

[Especially without him hearing the door open and the man cross the apartment to the room he currently occupied, really he didn't think he had slept that deeply.]

[anopsiatic]

[Excuse the poor man's eyesight -- he can't really see you, you see. Or maybe you don't see. But he's doing a rather good job of fixating his eyes on your face, simply because he's good at this sort of facade.

The water around him goes drip drip drip. He just goes on rummaging with a tsk sort of sound.]

Ah, ah, ah. Question is, how did you get into your apartment?

[glorious_mercy]

[Sephiroth's just going to keep an eye on you for a good minute before giving a slight shake of the head and turning to head for his bathroom to fetch a towel from there, returning the Masamune to his bedroom afterward before heading to locate his strange intruder once again to give him the towel.

Once he locates the pale-haired man, he tosses the towel at him.]

Here. Dry yourself off.

[ninthserenade]

[So, in the kitchen is (1) Demyx, totally zonked out with his head on the table tucked into the crook of his elbow all decked out in his spiffy getup the city set him up with. Of course after a few moments of the same repetitive dripping and sounds of dishes and various cans being moved around causes him to stir, though he doesn't lift his head Not yet.

G'way, Xigbar. M'tired.

[anopsiatic]

[You're under-estimating the hearing of an old man if you think he hasn't heard that brief mumble. Oh, youngsters these days. They can fall asleep anywhere.

It's not like he can pass on this chance, at any rate. Even old men must have their fun.

Creeping, creeping forward, that mischievous smirk on his face. Reaching forward with a hand aaaaaand--

Pinching your nose!]

[ninthserenade]

[He jerks upright with a sound mixed between a sputter and a snort, reflexes drawing the water from the intruder's clothes to throw it right back in his face. What just happened and who just woke him up?

If it was Xigbar, he'd probably be turning religious right about now.]

[evil_puberty]

[Actually, this isn't his house either. He's been in the sewer for the past two weeks, so he's...a tad unfamiliar with the above world. Still, you...are rather curious.

Invisible fourteen year old hovering over your shoulder, man :|]

[anopsiatic]

[Break may be (mostly) blind, but he isn't particularly idiotic, and he does have a biological weapon living inside of him, so it's not too much of a stretch for him to feel the presence, of, well, something. That, and he's generally paranoid anyway, and paranoid people have a way of knowing when someone is staring (or more accurately, standing by their shoulder innocently, but who cares about scansion?).

He waggles a finger mockingly as he rummages through the cabinets with his free hand.]

Now, now, it isn't good to stare at an old man like this. Why, you might make me feel as though I'm doing something incriminating.

[Chuckle.]

Now, be a dear and make yourself useful. Certainly, the tea isn't going to make itself!

[evil_puberty]

[...What was it with Vatheon and bringing out all the siver haired freaks? Well- its not like he- doesn't know how to make tea?]

Sorry, I guess?

[And, like a good little, grumbling, invisible boy, he's going to make tea. The american way. With mugs and tea bags and all.]

[anopsiatic]

[Gods, he loves obedient little brats. Unfortunately, brats being obedient generally send off alarm bells, as if it was one thing that brats weren't, it was being obedient. Ah, but he's just discovered a tin of sweets.]

My, what an obedient little brat. [A bit of feigned suspicion there as he pops a sweet into his mouth. Mmm, blessed sweets.] It does seem suspicious. I don't owe you money, now, do I?

... You'll have to wait on Naoya until later sadly. >:

[cantataofgrace]

[ ... skgjfldddjgldkjhkjh.

WHY ARE YOU IN HIS APARTMENT.

Let alone the apartment of one psycho child and his marionette? Nirvana is now active, threateningly, right next to you. The boy is not happy. There are mechanical noises; it's pretty easy to HEAR the machine, even if you can't see it. ]

... I wouldn't say it's a crooked house. It's an apartment, and the building is most definitely not slanted. And this happens to be our kitchen.

[ Carl's outfit is largely unchanged; he was already rather dressed-up before, anyway, but he is extremely annoyed. ]

So... what are you doing in it? And how did you get in here?

[ ... You'll have hit the jackpot though, Break. This is a child with a sweet tooth. Enjoy the cakes and cookies and whatnot you find. ]

Re: ... You'll have to wait on Naoya until later sadly. >:

[anopsiatic]

[To be sure, the threatening mechanical noises were a little concerning, but he's just found the cookie stash, and gods be damned if he wasn't going to let some rickety old washing machine distract him from his find.]

Oh, I'm not certain what you recall, but I certainly don't recall ever calling you a crooked man. [Here comes a cookie. Down the hatch! Mmm, he likes chocolate chip. It's the chocolate, you understand. Such sweets.] Unfortunately, 'apartment' doesn't quite rhyme with 'crooked brat'.

[Fingers dancing through the cupboard. What's this, a tin of candy?

Jackpot. Absently as he fiddles with the lid--]

And how did you get into your apartment, praytell? Hm?

[cantataofgrace]

[ ... AHLFGHDLFHJG HE HATES YOU ALREADY. Does this guy have any manners? ]

I...

[ You know. He was about to say, "I used the door like a normal person," but he honestly hardly remembers. He just knows this is his apartment. Well, that's concerning. ]

I... I don't know. B-but that's not the point!

[anopsiatic]

[Well, isn't that a most unusual answer. A shrug.]

Labeling such a sharp point as 'pointless' is akin to refusing to admit that a red apple is red! And what an paradox that must be. [Pops a candy from the tin into his mouth, wrapper et. al.] Either that, or I might have a most color-blind brat on my hands. My, my, my.