(Untitled)

Dec 11, 2005 11:57

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mr_one_percent December 11 2005, 22:09:36 UTC
Spider comes staggering out of his bedroom (well, actually Yelena's room, and now Hippolyta's, but he's too out of it at this point to know the difference), wearing nothing but his shades. Eventually, after regaining his orientation, he stumbles out to the kitchen, grateful, for the moment, that the house's entertainment system hasn't rewarded his consciousness by blaring 200 news channels at once.

But yes, kitchen. Kitchen, maker, coffee mug, coffee, sugar, sugar, sugarsugarsugar.

And that was a noise. Spider snaps out of his morning (afternoon, whatever, shut up) daze, and grabs his trusty bowel disruptor from under the sink. When he sees a figure move past the window, he leaps through the back door, out into the snow, weapon drawn. "Ha HA!"

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h_hollister December 11 2005, 23:23:30 UTC
"SHIT!"

She screams and ducks, on automatic pilot after having seen a gun pointed at her, flinging the bag of trash in the general direction of whoever it is that's got a bead on her as she rolls away.

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mr_one_percent December 11 2005, 23:36:28 UTC
And garbage bag in the face! His assailant would never have gotten away with that five years ago, when his brain was still mostly intact. But this is not five years ago, and his reaction times are kinda for shit. As such, we now have a naked Spider on his back, in the snow, and flailing to get the garbage bag away from him.

(It might look a little like the part in King Kong vs Godzilla where Kong was wrestling the Hefty-brand octopus. But the octo-bag is winning.)

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h_hollister December 11 2005, 23:44:03 UTC
She hears him flailing and raises her head.

"...Oh, for fuck's sake..."

She stands up and brushes the mud and snow off her, grimacing. Then she moves over to the downed journalist and pulls the bag off of him.

"Jesus Christ, boss, put some pants on!"

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mr_one_percent December 12 2005, 03:37:32 UTC
As a reflex, Spider throws his half-full coffee cup across the room, shattering on the wall above the computer.

"Fuck off, Royce! I'm working on your fucking column! You do not rush genius!"

To Hips, "I think it's a parrot thing. He knows about three phrases that he spouts at random. I'd teach him to make sexual innuendo at little kids, but I think it's a federal offense to let him within a hundred yards of children without a leash."

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h_hollister December 12 2005, 03:40:18 UTC
She sniggers, both at the shattered mug and his words.

Yeah, this was going to be fun.

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twofistededitor December 12 2005, 03:47:41 UTC
Royce was NOT used to the Filthy Assistant taking the side of Crazy Gonzo Journalist over Comparatively Sane Man-Who-Signs-Checks; but he, to his credit, didn't flinch at the coffee cup.

"You know, Spider, I don't know what kind of pills you're handing out at that third-rate Munden's Bar, but apparently you're actually making friends. I received a call today from a - Brennan? - who wants to ship some equipment to you."

His eyes flicked over at Hollister. "I don't know if this guy's legit or not, but he told me to tell you that working for this menace to clean living is 'better than singing in the shower.' Which is an image I'll be pondering later in depth."

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h_hollister December 12 2005, 03:56:08 UTC
"Patch Brennan. Yeah, he's legit. Buddy of mine. And, yeah, damn sight better than my last job. Still got the mental scars from that one. And no pondering me in the shower. I didn't get my rabies shots, and bite with little to no provocation."

Royce hasn't dealt with Hippolyta Hollister on a long term basis, yet. She's not the most respectful-of-authority gal ever to come down the pike.

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