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| Soymilk; Recruitment of Tiras, Rag and Bone | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 25 2008, 01:12 AM (371 Views) | |
| Deleted User | Apr 25 2008, 01:12 AM Post #1 |
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Well, at least he wasn't totally Jeckel and Hide. Crimson seemed to remember what he had been doing while wearing the monocle, but it was moderately fuzzy, as though someone else had been in total control of him. Worse yet, the student archives were still safe inside the admin building, merely reshuffled and copied. What kind of thief was a minimalist anyways? Certainly not his type of thief. As for Crimson, our young business man had woken up in a random dorm with a few files neatly laid out next to him on the bed. The only other thing on the bed was the small note pad he had written to the Humble Man with. Curiosity got the best of him all too quickly. He leaned up and cracked open the pages, eager to see if anything was inside. Dear Mr. Red, You really should give me harder jobs in the future. Such boring things are beneath this humble thief. The files of students you need who will most likely consider our proposal are here with you now. The rest would be unnecessary and not to mention completely contradicting to what type of thief I am. Start with the gentleman on the left, I think he's a friend of yours anyways. Partly wishing you Good Day, The Humble Man. Fury was not quite the correct word to describe what Crimson felt. Let us not lie to each other, he was considerably angry about the letter... but at the same time he found it point blank hilarious. At very least, the Humble Man was a challenge, a personality untapped and untouchable by Crimson. They were alike yet vastly different from each other, so much so that Humble Jack might be a danger to him. Oh well, risks were always worth taking in a gambler's book. With a quiet chuckle, Crimson reached over and grabbed the first file. He glanced at it once, chuckled, and then looked again. "Nice choice Jacky." * * * The door clicked open easily. It always did when you had the key. Crimson had honestly forgotten how much a key to Tiras's room had cost him, but decided every time upon entry that whatever he paid had been entirely worth it. This was not some dorm room, it was practically a condominium hidden inside this otherwise bland development. Apparently Tiras's roommate was well off, a self made business man who wanted to live lavishly. Problem was, he never made it home to enjoy that lavish lifestyle. How fair was that? All Crimson was doing was simply enjoying it for the poor soul. Perhaps one day he would right a short book on how wonderful Room 409 was, dedicate it toward the working class and all. He would describe all the wonderful food Tiras cooked in that wonderful kitchen, all the porn he had watched on the 1080p high def television, and all the songs he'd horridly botched on Trinis's prized guitars. Crimson was soon thinking of giving the master bedroom a try also, but he held back mostly due to the random hours that Trinis came home. It certainly wasn't fear of another man coming to bed with him. Crimson openly admitted both sexes could be stunningly beautiful around these parts. No, it was the simple fact that several weapons had been placed throughout the bedroom and living room, including an bereta pistol that had been cleverly hidden in a kitchen drawer. The rapiers and the odd shaped gun in the bedroom truth be told scared the bejesus out of him, and thusly Crimson's fear stopped the total enjoyment of every room. When he first walked in, his ears swore they heard a soft moan coming from the secondary bedroom, Tiras's place. A second long pause revealed no further sounds, so thus our gimpy thief limped himself straight into the kitchen in order to look for scraps of food. Tiras was something of a natural chef, but still a God of Organic eating. Everything in the fridge tasted good. Crimson swore that if this fridge had mold, that too would have tasted fantastic. He opened the stainless steel door to peak inside, and another small meap of pleasure came through the walls. Huh, he most be home. Well that makes this easy... For better or worse, Crimson decided not to delay. He grabbed a carton of milk and walked to Tiras's door, then made sure to open it with the utmost stealth. Upon having a wide enough crack to enter, he took a swig of milk and limped around the corner. "Bleh, Soy Milk. You really need to stop drinking this synthetic bullshit Tiras." Crimson looked up, saw what was going on and merely smiled. Hello free show. |
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| Deleted User | Apr 25 2008, 11:10 PM Post #2 |
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Tiras sighed contentedly as he buried his nose in the long, blond locks of the girl beside him. Catherine was over again as girlfriend types made for a welcome edition to one's bedroom. That was the reason he convinced himself of, anyway. Truthfully, Tiras was enamored with the girl and would have been satisfied with meeting her at the park, but he wasn't complaining. They had both made a beeline for his dormitory that he shared with Trinis right after classes. Plans had been made the night before, but after a draining day of schoolwork and dull lectures, both found they needed somewhat of a respite. Some sort of snack was in order. Jokingly, Tiras had recommended something to the effect of whipped cream or honey, but the idea had been rejected by a growl from his own stomach. They needed something slightly more substantial as the cafeteria was always avoided on the school grounds due to the constant attacks on it. That meant that they hadn't eaten since this morning, and only if a glass of soy milk counted as a meal. To Tiras, it did not. He pulled open the fridge and rummaged around for a bit. Supplies were low. He hadn't been shopping in a little while and organic food prices had been skyrocketing. A coy kiss to his ear and gentle tug of one of the black stripes of hair behind it reminded him of a third factor. Well, there were the basics, but this meant more delays as he had to cook something. Pulling out the ground turkey breast, the half onion in a plastic baggy already diced, and some wilting parsley, Tiras returned the kiss and set the items on the counter beside the stove. Another look through the refrigerator confirmed that that had been the extent of useful ingredients before he shut the door with a soft thump and jostle of jars within. In the cupboard, there was a full package of hamburger buns, whole wheat with sesame seeds sprinkling the tops, and all the usual spices. "Hope you like burgers, dear," he said, pouring the onions into the bowl. No lettuce, no cheese, no pickles, and most definitely no ketchup. There was mustard, if she wanted it, but that was the extent of the condiments. He couldn't even make mayonnaise without eggs. Oh well. He would get them something else afterward or maybe, he would finally get around to that shopping he had been needing to do. The ingredients were piled into a large mixing bowl, seasoned, and kneaded together. The stove now bore a skillet that was slowly heating with the aid of some olive oil. One at a time, the two patties were shaped and slapped onto the skillet. Letting them cook, their aroma lifting to send their stomachs into spasms of frantic hunger, Tiras washed his hands and cleaned off a spatula. The meal was finished almost as soon as the patties hit the buns, both teens eagerly wiping down their plates with the extra hamburger buns. Catherine had perched on one of the barstools, her elbows supporting her on the counter top, looking across at Tiras as he stood in the kitchen and finished his own meal a la bachelor style, right over the sink. Satisfied, at least temporarily, the dishes were rinsed off and dropped into the dishwasher. Fed and relaxed, Catherine playfully beckoned Tiras toward the bedroom to the right. Though the smaller of the two, Trinis had not skimped on the decor and grandeur of the dormitory in his reconstructions. Tiras largely suspected that his own room had once been another dormitory that the school would not miss during the hectic room assigning, but even then, the queen mattress was just a tad too large to accommodate the dresser. He didn't mind the cramped quarters as Catherine rolled into the bed and tugged at the tail of his gray, short sleeved shirt. Obliging, he climbed beneath the covers and nuzzled into her hair, the smell of it intoxicating... Tiras had awakened to see the digital clock read quite a few hours later. When had he dozed off? With dismay, he remembered only crawling into the bed before the long day and the meal pulled his eyelids shut. And Catherine? She was dozing quietly beside him, clearly as tired as he had been. Well, he could still enjoy this. With a little restraint, Tiras nuzzled closer to Catherine, his hands slowly sliding down her warm stomach. Gentle kisses peppered her neck as he grew more impatient, but from the gasping and sighs, he could tell she was far from asleep. Clothes were loosened, her shirt unbuttoned with one hand while the other caressed around her stomach. Catherine was fully awake, now, moaning softly but pretending to sleep. She knew Tiras liked that, egging him on with her feigned indifference. As his hand slid lower and lower, she pushed herself closer to him, still not turning around. And then, the door flew open. Tiras started, bumping the poor girl from behind and probably bruising more than one piece of anatomy. With modesty to shame a Victorian lady, he covered the two of them with the thick quilt even though his own clothing was still fully intact in spite of a few wrinkles born from the nap. "What the HELL?!" Tiras roared, his breath finally catching up to him as he peered behind. He had expected Quilyn. That might have been normal for the dog-eared boy that chased imaginary objects around the dorms until he passed out from exhaustion, but today wasn't Tiras's day to watch him. No one would've just left Quilyn with him or even by himself. Next, he had suspected Trinis, but the Brit was savvy enough to know not to wander into Tiras's room unannounced. Savvy and far too prude. The person he saw instead was so out of place, Tiras figured a cartoon character or American president would seem slightly less bizarre. Standing in the doorway, one hand supporting his weight on a cane and the other clutching the half-finished carton of soy milk, was Crimson. A gentleman he had met only a handful of times before and never in his own dormitory. In fact, Tiras had completely lost contact with the young man after escorting him and a hefty sum of money out of a bank. The money had been Crimson's, and the reward for being the hired muscle had been Tiras's. While he had paid handsomely, Tiras hadn't thought to contact the fellow again. "It isn't 'synthetic bullshit,'" Tiras groaned, rolling over to at least partially hide Catherine. "It's VitaSoy. Best stuff for you unless you want man-tits from the bovine growth hormone they feed cows. Now, tell me what you want and get the hell out." |
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| Deleted User | Apr 26 2008, 09:54 PM Post #3 |
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The reaction had been expected. Sometimes Crimson felt like the only student actually alive here at the school, the only one who realized that getting caught screwing (or in attempt to from the look of things) and other prude things just didn't matter. What mattered was having fun, living essentially. Sure, scream for him to leave so he could have his fun, but why did Tiras have to cover up? Hadn't this been the kid semi notorious for hitting on anything with legs? Curiosity got so deep beneath Crimson's skin that his head tilted at the pair rather than look away. You mean to honestly tell me you were prepared for interruptions? How amateur. If you hadn't been useful last time buddy, I'd pass on you like yesterday's newspaper. It was a complete lie of course, Tiras was a vital part of the plan. An open thieves guild of teens would simple be troubled youths asking for community service time. Despite an attempt, Crimson was not one for using the kitchen. His mastery over the culinary arts began and ended with the microwave. It was true that he had chosen a Culinary Club as cover simply because he was hungry at the time, but the brilliance of this plan was absolute. A club that went around helping people that wound up robbed would get suspicious quick, and a nerd club would be too much work to cover for. Chess club had been considered, but that club was decided to be a much better choice for the 'secretly plotting world domination' club. Gardening obviously led to assassinations. Tiras managed to pull him out of his temporary haze by talking about what soy milk was compared to real milk. He laughed, genuinely appreciating Tiras's wit. "Well, there could be a man boob porn fetish in the future..." His giggle was almost completely innocent. "Honestly though I wanted to talk to you. Clearly you two are indisposed at the moment, so carry on with the fun and then we can talk okay?" That lopsided smile appeared, and another gulp of soy milk was taken to demonstrate Tiras's verbal victory. "I guess this isn't all that bad..." Catherine in the meantime looked like she was in a state of shock. Being walked in on was something her own logic eventually expected to happen (half the time she expected Mim to barge in, shield bash Tiras and drag her away), but this man was standing there like he was not going to go away! Tiras had taught her to enjoy physicality, but enough of Mim's prudeness had washed off on her to demand their special time be between them alone. "Ahem." One blue eye and one green eye gave something close to a glare, and an arm extended out from Tiras's prudish cover pointing back to the living room. In moving to point, she had managed to sit up and reveal the fact that her school shirt was now completely unbuttoned. Perhaps this should have made her blush, but Catherine wanted to enjoy Tiras too much to care. The British blond had already fallen asleep on her once, she surely was not going to miss out on pleasure this time. The whole movement was rather revealing, only a black bra stood between her skin and Crimson's excited green eyes. A second of silence passed, and then the young American rolled his eyes and laughed again. "Alright... I'll wait in the living room. You kids have fun now..." Though he did listen and exit, the door was left open. Call him perverted, but Crimson at least wanted to hear what sex sounded like. Perhaps that would help him get over the whole 'no touchy' thing... |
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| Deleted User | Apr 27 2008, 10:44 AM Post #4 |
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There IS man-tit fetish porn, Tiras thought with a shudder. The young American in the doorway sipped at more of the soy milk after announcing that they could 'carry on'. Clearly, that did not mean he was leaving anytime soon, and Tiras's face flushed with anger. Flopping into the pillow, he kept his back to the door, sulking. While he was clothed, he didn't want to expose Catherine for even a minute, choosing to hide her behind his own form. Catherine, however, had grown bold in their time together. With a fluid movement, she had turned and propped herself up, her shirt unbuttoned and chest exposed. While she cleared her throat and pointed toward the door, Tiras was accidentally pressed into the finest black lace bra he had ever known. Even though they had been intimate for a while, this sudden face-dive was more than enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck in delight. Blushing a little, he pulled away in time to hear Crimson's second parting. The bastard had left the door open. In an effort to reiterate Catherine's firm message, Tiras reached an arm behind and closed it the rest of the way. The mattress was close enough that he didn't have to strain to get it, turning back to Catherine in the same movement. He doubted that door meant anything since the fellow clearly knew what they were up to, but not being able to see their event made Tiras relax a little. "Sorry, love," he muttered, pulling her closer by the waist. "Old business associate." He should have been turned off from intimacy, but being Tiras meant being shameless on occasion, especially after an encounter like Catherine's bra. Besides, she clearly wanted some together time. He must've fallen asleep before she had, leaving her frustrated until he had woken her. Out of spite, the dormitory was silent, but the occasional purr of pleasure would escape, alerting Crimson, who was more than likely listening in, that they weren't finishing a nap. A few minutes later, Tiras emerged. He glanced at the American, clearly disgusted that he had stayed, and strode to the refrigerator. His clothes were loose but in place once more, and his walk revealed he was slightly calmer. With a forced yawn, Tiras grabbed a pair of tall glasses from the cupboard and filled one with water from the tap. "I don't suppose you would like a glass to go with that, would you?" His tone was curt, the underlying message of displeasure obvious, but it hadn't entirely shut Crimson out. Relaxed as he was, Tiras's annoyance was fading rapidly. This fellow, if he recalled, paid well for even the simplest services. A few more minutes of awkwardness might make Tiras's pockets grateful for the interruption. |
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| Deleted User | Apr 29 2008, 11:27 AM Post #5 |
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He sat on the barstool at the kitchen counter, soymilk carton in one hand while the other hand held his chin in the thinking man's pose. He tried and he tried to understand. It certainly did sound like they were having fun, but anytime he attempted to imagine himself as Tiras a shiver of fear ran down his spine. The human touch was something he did not understand, something that he downright feared because of the implications of closeness. Crimson wanted friends and people who liked him, but no one attached to him. That made it all the more odd that he was something of a flirt. Worse yet, there was no question why he suffered this problem. Allowing people to get close to you meant they would simply slip away. They might die, his memory might be wiped, their's might be taken, or an infinite list of other possibilities. Such a shame that humans could not have consistency between themselves even as mortals. There was at least one exception to the 'no toca' rule. That night her skin had been cool and refreshing, smooth as the softest silk. Golden locks, beautiful eyes and mouth, and a body that could make Aphrodite slightly jealous. Even with her though, touching had been something to get used to as apposed to an instantaneous cure. For the next few minutes, Crimson was so entirely lost in his thoughts that he forgot about listening in on his prude friend. It was the door clicking open that gave him a start. The lopsided smile and careless green eyes looked up instantly, the cover to the moment of depth Crimson had just experienced. Tiras still looked grumpy, which perplexed Crimson so much that his smile faded slightly. How could any man who just got laid go right back to being so bitchy? Must be a British thing... For once Crimson allowed someone else to make the first comment, which of course was about the damned soymilk. Well, at least Tiras was attempting to be a good host. "Sure, I'll take a glass if you promise to brighten up a bit. I mean come on, you just got laid, are about to get a job offer... and a damned good one at that I might add. So how bout it, smiles up?" Crimson slid the milk carton over toward Tiras, and then used his index fingers on his own face to create a big dorky smile toward the other teen. "What the hell, I'll just flat out say it..." He dropped his arms and for once looked entirely serious. As Tiras knew, the only thing Crimson could get serious about was making money, lots of money. "Did you hear that the school is sponsoring clubs now? There's a community volunteer team that sounds like they're out to save the world, some medics in training and some nerds gone wild. I thought to myself 'Why Crimson, this could be the perfect time to bring together a talented group of people!' You see, between my newest power and the actual need for these people..." Rather than actually say it, Crimson had written it on the milk carton backwards with a Sharpie. That was the side that was now facing Tiras. DLUIG SEVEIHT He gave it a second, but from previous experience knew that Tiras would work it out. "Yes Tiras, I need you for a job. A permanent job. See, in order to get funding from the school we have to be a club that is not... outside the laws. I figure between your talents and your talents in the kitchen, a culinary club would be the perfect method to hide this. Thusly you would be Head Chef of the culinary club, and right hand to myself, its founder." A pause came in his speech, mostly because springing 'Hey, wanna join a thieves guild and be my right hand man?' was something that should take a second to soak in. His true smile, that devious grin, crept back onto his face. Tiras needed the money too much to say no, at least according to his AHS files. |
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| Deleted User | May 1 2008, 12:14 AM Post #6 |
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As the soy milk carton slid across the counter, Tiras's frown darkened. Without a word, he grabbed the nearly empty carton and was about to toss it when he noticed Crimson moving. It was as he was looking up again that the facade broke. Crimson's goofy mock smile propped up by index fingers was impossible to resist. After all, Tiras found himself reasoning, he had been paid a great deal from this fellow. Placing himself near one wealthy friend had clearly paid off from the looks of his surroundings. How bad could two be? He chuckled appreciatively. "Brits have the right to be as sullen as they please, and I have heard that the school is sponsoring clubs, but I'm not the chess-type," Tiras began. Then, he noticed Crimson's eyes were on his hand. More specifically, the nearly empty soy milk carton. He listened to Crimson absently as he read over the message inked across the brightly-colored image of cows dancing with soy beans. Thieves' Guild? He had figured the money obtained from the bank had come from some sort of illegal activity, but out of respect, Tiras had not deigned to answer that question entirely. Now, he guessed, he knew. Crimson was explaining their front by the time Tiras decided that he was fine with morally gray...of a darker shade in this case. He blinked and looked up to meet his comrade's bright green with his own pale blue. "Sous chef," he muttered. "I'd be the Sous chef and you would be the chef, if you would be in charge." Tiras tossed the carton after musing over it a second more. It had been written in English, so there was a slightly smaller chance no one would find it odd to see those two words written on a soy milk carton in the trash. "I guess that'll be lesson one. You...mentioned something about a power?" Tiras didn't need to specify that it was Crimson's new ability that he was interested in. He knew the practicality of placating an entire household with his singing should things go south. They could just wear earplugs to avoid fellow club members passing out cold. What was the recent power Crimson had acquired that made this idea worth acting on? More importantly, how new was it? If it was of the uncontrolled, fresh-off-the-radioactive-comet type, it might prove sporadic and, therefore, problematic. |
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| Deleted User | May 1 2008, 07:30 PM Post #7 |
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Pompous ass Brit. Why if Crimson didn't like his company so much, he would totally have Tiras drawn and quartered for talking to him like that. The temptation to remind Tiras that the poor man could not choose his line of work was so absolutely tempting after the comment about the chess team, but a happier and quirkier line snuck in instead. "Well, obviously chess teams are just plotting world domination Tiras. That stands to make absolutely no profit, and will only wind up getting us killed by each other and everyone else." Thankfully the Brit had something of value to add on next. It caused him to pause and ponder about attempting to head the guild front himself. No, that couldn't work. I mean, Kysse is a good teacher and all, but there is absolutely no way that I could pull off being the head chef. Gods, I knew I should have asked her first about this... "No, no, no. Tiras, Sous Chef needs to be someone you choose under you, because I can't cook! Well, I can cook some things... but come on, me? No. What I am is a multi-billion dollar investor who wishes to cultivate the next generation of tasty talents. We use this dorm room because of the converted kitchen as our secret practice grounds obviously because the cafeteria is a no go. That is our position as the AHS Culinary Club." Again Tiras had another question that made Crimson regret speaking. Though the right hand man would have to know, it still brought a pang of fear to his stomach that at least one person would soon know who Humble Jack really was. "Yeah... it's kinda dorky, but I've got an thief transformation. He holds his own personality quirks, but he sounds British! You might actually get along." The smile said Crimson really did not give a damn whether Jack and Tiras got along at all. Now that he had one member, the rest would be a cake walk right? Instead of join me, it was 'join us.' |
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| Deleted User | May 7 2008, 12:52 AM Post #8 |
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"'The multi-billion dollar investor' angle would lose us our school funding, mate," Tiras pointed out. "You would be my choice for sous, then, and keep it low-key on the cash. Cooking even somewhat places you above many here, especially if they've been to the cafeteria. If the school questions how we get so much coin, we'll just pretend our bake sales and fund raisers are very successful." Ridiculously successful, if they look too closely. The rebuke wasn't cutting or rude. Simply matter-of-fact. He didn't believe for an instant that the culinary club front would work unless Tiras was able to actually teach the students a few things and hosted a couple of events, but he would go over the details with Crimson later. That, and he wanted the gimp's neck just as much in the noose as his by assuming the sous chef position. Crimson calmly answered his question about the power, though. At least he was forthright, but Tiras found himself agreeing and disagreeing with the situation. Yes, it was kind of 'dorky'. No, just because someone was British, they weren't automatically in with Tiras as a pal. He watched Tiras expectantly, but the blond teen hesitated, chewing his lip. Why was he so nervous? No, nervous wasn't quite the right feeling...Uncomfortable was the best description for it. Working with people with dual personalities made Tiras downright panicky. It was his own relationship with Quilyn. The possible offshoot of the young schizophrenic's personality, Tiras didn't hold a clear place in this world, and his confidence shook violently in situations like this. Too harsh of a reminder of his circumstance and with no reassurance that Crimson's alternate personality was anything more than that. Though Winter, Tiras found himself calmed by. His manifestation had been the reaffirmation of his own self, not an offshoot of Teo, though he had once feared so. Adamantly, Tiras hoped his own life was similar, but around other dual personalities, he felt acutely the connection with Quilyn. Avoiding eye contact, Tiras set about rinsing the glasses to stall for time, but the tense silence was becoming all too clear. "I have to see it," Tiras muttered as he put the glasses away in the dishwasher. He still avoided Crimson's eyes, propping himself up with his palms against the marble counter. He avoided putting a gender to the thief even though Crimson had stated it was a male. How would this work even if he saw it? Tiras realized he was simply stalling for the turn down. |
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| Deleted User | May 24 2008, 10:47 PM Post #9 |
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Tiras was making sense. Crimson hated it when someone else in the room did that. After all, how best to sway a man then to make a logical argument to him? He had already invested a significant amount of time in preparing for this guild. Stealing from the archives, raiding from the police... Humble Jack had been quite the busy man. Why was money such an object anyways? Soon enough, they'd have plenty of money. "I hope you make godly muffins then Tiras, because that's going to need to be one hell of a successful bake sale. Perhaps we could claim that the Souse Chef, the man who's supposed to be the accountant, can't count? Dyslexia alone would prove our point well enough..." Common ground achieved. Two of AHS's most separately devious minds had now come together in efforts of creating a new front. Tiras seemed pleased yet displeased with his answer, and took a second to choke down the words. Good, a curve ball was exactly what that damned Brit deserved for forcing him to be directly involved. It wouldn't take Tiras long to figure out that as Head Chef he would have a certain control over Crimson, something that the brown haired American couldn't stand at all. The only possible way to keep Tiras out of the absolute control chair was simply to keep knowledge from him. Things like, Oh, I've gathered all the files already, I've cross referenced and criss cross referenced to make recruiting a snap, and I know the intentions of this guild. You might be eager to see green Tiras, but I'm the hand guiding us to gold. "I have to see it." There it was, the first step. Right now it sounded of curiosity, but Crimson would not underestimate Tiras as simply curious. Tiras would want absolute leverage over him for this, which was understandable. Still though, something so close to an order this close to the start sent the wrong feeling running through his veins. "Fine, I'll show you. In fact, most the guild will find out soon enough. Quick condition though, we'll be using this dorm as a headquarters for now." Crimson sat up and limped over toward the other room, the one that seemed to be unoccupied 90% of the time. "And no peeking asshole," That part sounded like a genuine joke, and just before he reached the door Crimson finished the statement. "I'll be right back." The door shut. Normally, there's some sort of bright beaming light that pours out under and around the door accompanied with the loudest of noises as a transformation sequence... but this time there was none. Crimson, from Tiras's perspective, had merely shut the door. On the other side of that door, a monocle was pulled out from the jacket pocket, flipped three times, locked, and placed over his left eye. Suddenly, the world was looking at a whole new man. Three, maybe four seconds had passed in the common room. That was when Trinis's door flew open to reveal a figure dressed entirely in white with blond hair and pale skin. Though Tiras probably wouldn't admit it, Humble Jack even looked British. "Ello der govna! I be man, a Humble Man. But since ya a Brit proper, ya can call me Jack. Or Humble Jack. Whichever ya like." |
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