The last time Katchoo had stayed in any one place long enough to acquire this much stuff, she'd ended up running away to leave it all behind, and not regretting it
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Normally, Arthur wouldn't take this risk this often in one week.
But normally, Arthur didn't have to deal with gorgeous ladies arriving at court, especially not the likes that draped themselves all over his father and bedazzled his bloody manservant, and maybe that made him feel a little reckless.
So phone: ringing, as Arthur had managed to make himself scarce for at least a few minutes.
Katchoo had to dig her phone out from halfway under a pile of socks and t-shirts (mixed dirty and clean, and all getting dumped unceremoniously into the laundry at . . . eh, some point) before she could answer it, and scrambled up onto the top of the dresser by the window to have a smoke while she talked.
"Pendragon! Are you that bored? I thought they were keeping you too busy to be a pain in my ass."
Quadruple-filter this through industrial strength snark-neutralizing charcoal and subject it to reverse osmosis and what you'd get was awwwwwwwww, you called me twice in a week!
. . . you couldn't get that kind of charcoal, incidentally. Not legitimately.
"My father is currently preoccupied with a guest," Arthur said, neutrally. He... would really rather not dwell on that bit before he forgot himself and started... speaking ill of the Lady Catrina. "Which leaves me with some time on my hands, though depending on how preoccupied he remains, it may not be for very long."
Try running that through some charcoal; you may need a few extra filters just to get the full extent of the truth out of that.
No charcoal in the universe would sign up for that job, and never mind that charcoal didn't tend to be sentient. It'd develop sentience for the cause. And then run away.
"So you spend it calling me. Anyone ever told you how skewed your sense of priorities is, Pendragon?" she asked idly, flicking ash out the window.
Translation, written in painstakingly developed encryption and locked in a secure vault: appreciative beyond belief.
Comments 38
But normally, Arthur didn't have to deal with gorgeous ladies arriving at court, especially not the likes that draped themselves all over his father and bedazzled his bloody manservant, and maybe that made him feel a little reckless.
So phone: ringing, as Arthur had managed to make himself scarce for at least a few minutes.
Reply
"Pendragon! Are you that bored? I thought they were keeping you too busy to be a pain in my ass."
Quadruple-filter this through industrial strength snark-neutralizing charcoal and subject it to reverse osmosis and what you'd get was awwwwwwwww, you called me twice in a week!
. . . you couldn't get that kind of charcoal, incidentally. Not legitimately.
Reply
Try running that through some charcoal; you may need a few extra filters just to get the full extent of the truth out of that.
Reply
"So you spend it calling me. Anyone ever told you how skewed your sense of priorities is, Pendragon?" she asked idly, flicking ash out the window.
Translation, written in painstakingly developed encryption and locked in a secure vault: appreciative beyond belief.
Reply
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