A Flat In Brighton, Thursday Evening

[importantman]

"I'm a very important man, you know," Valentine said, conversationally, to the spaniel at his feet. "I had a tower. And it was an excellent tower, at that. Huge. Hundreds of rooms, staircases that went nowhere in particular. Windows! Plenty of windows. Though... maybe not quite enough windows, come to think about it. Hindsight is always 20/20 you

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[palestshadow]

"I like your eyes," Naminé said conversationally, from where she sat sketching on the couch.

There was logic to this. If the world consisted of only pinholes, he wouldn't have them.

[importantman]

"And I like yours," Valentine returned, his chest swelling a little in pride. Nevdr let it be said that Valentine didn't know how to take a compliment. "I'll tell you the honest truth, I'd never seen that colour until I saw your eyes."

The City of Light was just a tiny bit blue-deprived.

[palestshadow]

"Thank you," she said, those eyes clearly amused. "Windows and pinholes would mean neither of us have pretty eyes. Is your director still being impossible?"

[importantman]

"When is he not?" Valentine crossed his arms over his chest, clearly demonstrating his flair for the dramatic. "Either he's re-writing the script or firing the crew or making members of the cast cry. The only reason I continue showing up at rehearsals is my passion for the theatre, you know. Well, that, and the fact that we're beginning to wear him down, at last."

All it had taken was a well-placed cactus on the seat of his chair. Or two. And a small fire that one night. Not to mention speaking of That Scottish Play, whistling, wishing one another good luck in his presence, and some strategic placement of scrim and mirrors to make it appear as though they were constantly walking underneath ladders.

Nobody there was actually crazy enough to walk under a ladder.

[sarcasm_guy]

The phone rang, as phones are occasionally wont to do.

[importantman]

And that, which Sokka probably wouldn't hear unless his ears were far more acute than science could allow, was the sound of Valentine tripping over the dog (YIP!) in order to make his way across the room to answer it.

"You can't pay me enough to work on my day off," he announced as he picked up a phone.

Caller ID was a beautiful thing. It would be more beautiful if he ever bothered to use it.

[palestshadow]

"Careful!" Naminé gasped, hopping up and tending to the puppy.

Yes, she was more concerned with their puppy than him.

[sarcasm_guy]

Ohhh, that was too good a line to let hang, though. "I never paid you to work a day in your life!" the old-sounding voice grumped at him over the phone. "And I'm not about to start now! You'll work for free, or not at all!"