bakerstreet | thursday pic prompt

"Isn't that quite the question," Charles said with a small laugh, thinking how many times that question had been asked of him. After all, those who knew him in his youth would have never guessed him to end up in this situation, never mind of his own design. "Really, I think it began as a dream. A place where people like us could live in peace, could learn to use their gifts while still being able to be children. It's sort of grown from that seed into what you see now."

He thought about what could possibly interest someone he didn't know, but give the tone in the other's voice, he decided to have a little fun himself and make something that the children (and indeed, some of his staff and himself as well) enjoyed. He wheeled himself over to the cabinets and began gathering what he needed, able to make use of a grabbing device set up waiting for him and the counter set easily for his height. Anyone familiar with the ingredients he put together would have recognized it as a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

"Hopefully this doesn't pove to be too much of a surprise, but I used to make these for my sister and myself when we were children. It's caught on here as well." He worked briefly in silence, but it was also a matter of trust. With his back to Aurus, the stranger had every chance to harm him if he meant it, but it equally displayed trust in return.

"You mentioned being a wayfarer... any particular reason you travel so frequently?" Start to turn things slightly back on Aurus, trying to learn more about the other. He 'listened' carefully within as well, trying to decide if the other voices in Aurus' mind were internal or external in nature.

Aurus hadn't been sure what "people like us" meant precisely, but it wasn't the sort of thing about which he was inclined to directly ask. It felt like a blunt and indelicate sort of question, and he far preferred subtlety, so he simply trusted that the meaning would become clear in time. Perhaps Charles meant other humans whose mobility depended on chairs like his. Certainly, though, he didn't assume "us" to encompass him and Charles in some common group. He took it, rather, to mean Charles and the children he taught.

As for the peanut butter and banana sandwich, it was indeed a mystery because Aurus had never actually seen nor tasted peanut butter before. But he nonetheless took it as it was offered to him, gave it an experimental sniff, and then took a bite. It did surprise him: sticky.

He thought the word several moments before he managed to swallow his first mouthful and say it aloud. "It's sticky." And sweet, and completely unique to itself. He could imagine why children would like it, though as he made his way through the rest he did pull occasional faces like a dog that had been given a spoonful of peanut butter and taken it all a little over-zealously. But what he found most endearing about it was the gesture, Charles sharing a food with him that he'd shared with a sibling in his youth--commensal traditions of that sort were as important to sylvari as they were to humans.

Between bites (and when he managed to get his mouth free of peanut butter) he told Charles a bit more of his story: "I believe I have been traveling in some form for, hmm, seventeen or eighteen years now. It's not been wholly constant of course. There were lake sides and high mountain passes where I made a home for some months here or there before striking out again. And I dwelt in the Crystal Desert for almost two years, though I'd never intended to stay nearly that long.

"Perhaps my reason bears something in common with the one you told me--a dream of sorts. Or in my case I might say a certain lack of Dream, something that inspired me to go and look elsewhere."

Cryptic though this answer might sound, it was totally honest. It didn't even draw a remark from the voices in Aurus's mind, almost as though they had all had much the same conversation with him at some time before.

[ No shark facts hour can pass without mentioning that they have two dicks, and this case, it's a rather unattainable goal. Not that he wants to. ]

[ Most of the fine establishment's employees probably are herding away in horror, but either Squalo attended to the unoccupied kitchen and served himself, or he caught some unfortunate waiter before they could escape and threatened them into submission. You know, how one does. ]

[ Squalo doesn't move a hair as Dino's ass lands on his table, just peering at him over the steaming espresso mug, listening to the request like a proper gentleman and even providing an almost polite pause after it. His shit-eating grin suggests he's got no plans to be cooperative, though. ]

Below my payrate. [ So, no. ] Anything else?

[Oh god that mental image of 'It's sticky' is unbelievably precious. <3]

When Aurus clearly had no idea what peanut butter was, given the odd but not unpleasant expression, Charles' concept of who he thought Aurus was shifted ever so slightly. Added to it the story about wandering, it solidified a few things - loner, shifting from place to place, trying to find himself. However, that was quite a long time to be in the process of it, though it was difficult to place Aurus' age with his very different sort of genetic traits. What was stranger was that the voices in the other's mind seemed to be of various ages which made the whole package even more complicated to understand. If he pressed deeper, he would know the full truth, but unlike his younger self, he tended not to delve past those surface thoughts unless the situation absolutely required it.

Charles did do the kind thing and get Aurus a glass of milk to help the whole process, putting it in front of the other before leaning back in his chair. The pyjamas were well worn, comfortable, and made him look he was slumming it but it wasn't exactly supposed to be seen by anyone else. "You are looking for yourself, or your purpose in the world?" Charles suggested, gesturing with a roll of his fingers. The Crystal Desert could mean anything, an unofficial name for a location or a translation, yet it felt like something wasn't quite adding up.

"There's nothing wrong with that. It can take a lifetime, or perhaps the journey itself becomes the purpose." Not words of pity or dismissal, but someone who still held a thrill in the idea of far off locations and discovering the new, even if he was building roots deeper and deeper here.

Her honesty tugs at something in him, enough that Mitchell loses some measure of conviction in his facade. He looks away from her, quickly; looks down. Takes his time with another drag on his cigarette, a slow inhalation that should burn in a way more destructive than it does. Instead, the crispy dry feeling is just kind of good, painful but good. How brilliantly easy would it be, to smoke himself to death?

"Yeah, well," he says, his tone even, if a little dark, "it would've been easier, yeah? None of--this shite--"

His cigarette trails smoke as he waves his hand to encompass the darkness, the countryside, the parked card and the silent bed and breakfast behind them.

[ There's sighing, and then there's relieving your breath amid painfully clear evidence that this here, between Dino's slow chews of almond and anise, will be a long negotiation.

Inappropriately, a severed head rolls over. Dino watches it carefully glide across the street, until it hits a light post with a heavy thud. The scenery favours Squalo — something about knowing you've just littered a damned street with carnage tends to understandably boost the size of one's balls. Makes talking... difficult, when you're playing opposition. ]

Be fair. I don't pay you anything at all.

[ Making commissions even below that rate slightly verging on the impossible. Unless the Varia are wiling to recruit interns — that's one option market reality-facing option. ]

Ask the big man. [ Right. Because Xanxus is likely to have the direct dial of the nearest custodians' shop. ] Ask anyone. Just... Squaaaalllooooooo... I need shiiiiiirts.

[ Be a bro. Be a shark bro. ]

[:D I am so glad! It's a rare thing that his composed and dignified mask cracks just a little!]

The glass of milk was very appreciated to be sure. Quite the perfect accompaniment. Ironically, this was the sort of thing that often struck humans as strange if they knew what a sylvari was and were meeting one for the first time: a plant drinking an animal's milk. Of course Charles still lacked that key piece of information, while Aurus, not knowing that he lacked it, merely presumed that the man was familiar with his race already. It could all make for some impressive confusion somewhere along down the line.

At any rate, Aurus wouldn't deny that Charles had the spirit of his motivations right. "It has always seemed to me that it's inherent in Ventari's teachings," he elaborated, invoking the name that he'd used earlier to address one of the voices in his mind.

"'From the smallest blade of grass to the largest mountain,' he teaches us, 'where life goes—so, too, should you.' But he counsels us also that the only lasting peace is the peace within one's own soul.

"I felt, therefore, that to truly grasp his meaning--to find that lasting peace--it was my place to go where life does. That seemed to me to be the wisest way to act, since I could not see the wisdom of sitting stagnant with discord at home, even if it meant leaving all my kin."

And this choice, it seemed, did indeed meet with a favorable judgment since the voice in his mind give the impression of approval, though without directly saying a word.

"At any rate, I believe I have approached it near enough now that I shall start my journey home soon. Maybe I already have--I can't pretend that I would recognize the stops along the way."

She puts her face in her hands, curled up a little. The notion of no Mitchell is terrible. She loves him, she loves him still. It's impossible to stop her heart from wanting him. She reaches for his cigarette, to put it out, considers tears, but doesn't cry. For once, she doesn't cry.

She reaches for his hand. "Being dead isn't brilliant, it isn't an out, Mitchell. It's just-" she goes quiet. "It's just this," she finishes, as if it's just her.

[It is super adorable. Everyone needs those slip-ups! :)]

Charles might have been abashed to know what he was offering to Aurus if only he knew the extent of it all. This was eventually going to blow up into a giant pile of confusion at some point, though hopefully sooner rather than later when the chance of it somehow being insulting grew. For now, they each belabored under their assumptions. At least it wasn't a dangerous sort.

"Ventari?" Charles questioned curiously, logic suggesting this was some sort of religious figure like a prophet or wise man, rather than a physical teacher from Aurus' past. The wording only suggested it that much more strongly. Almost Buddha-like in its zen. "He speaks wisely, but peace..." His voice briefly drifted, thinking of a man who he wished could find peace but how dearly he doubted Erik would. "Peace is difficult, even in the best of times, within or without." There it was again, that outside brush of something, which only felt more like something or someone was influencing Aurus.

Gingerly, far more delicately than he had been able years before, Charles attempted to explore whatever that feeling had been.

"And where is home? A person? A location?" Given that home was so many different things to so many people, he thought it might be less of a specific place than a feeling Aurus was searching for.

[ Littering a street with carnage, and spending every day talking back to a guy who can turn a beach full of people to ash in a moment. That sort of helps one develop giant balls and a spine of steel. Figuratively speaking. ]

[ Squalo watches the head roll by, making a disgusting noise that sounds somewhat like a hyena barking and probably is his equivalent of normal people's laughter. ]

That's right, you don't. Why am I talking to you again? [ There's a slight twitch under his eye at the whining. Oh how hasn't he missed this. ] That's your problem, isn't it?

[ Too busy being a shark ho, sorry. ]

[ He will not beg.

He is don of the one of the still standing, working, thriving families, heir to several long-defeated odds of failure. He has anointment from Reborn, the weapons of Rome, the backing of the Vongola. He commands fewer scruples and more resources than many small countries.

He will not beg.

He will, however, purse his lips together, raise himself properly on the table and start gently swaying his legs back and forth. A tantrum needs its visual cues. ]

They make the goooooooood cuffs... with the nice in-seams... [ Have they hit the time for waterworks yet? Have a token tear, painstakingly squeezed from the corner of Dino's practised eye. ] You liiiiiiike thooooooose... we all like thooooooooose...

[ He can think of fewer points of communal sympathy in their industry than a decently-made suit. Why, he's willing to bet even the gloves Squalo tries to pass off as carelessly chosen are from the single edition of an exclusive hand-made accessory line. ]

Hang on. That confusion collision might be approaching. Or perhaps this would turn out to be merely a near miss: Aurus raised an eyebrow at the inquiries--he would have expected Charles to know at least some of these answers. But then, he reasoned, he was in the Mists. There was no accounting for linear or coherent trails of information.

"Home, I suppose, is the Grove. Though that has not felt like home since I was young. So let us say at least that home is Tyria proper--the natural material world of Tyria, I mean.

"As for Ventari--" but here the voice in his mind cut in, interrupting.

"Tell him that the value of peace is precisely to be found in the hardship one must endure to truly appreciate it, to live and die for it."

But Aurus did not tell Charles that. Instead he half raised on eyebrow, shifting his eyes as though he was giving the voice a look, though of course this was something he couldn't do.

"We need not all elect as he did, when given the choice to fight or be slaughtered, to sit down on our tails and proclaim 'Then I shall die!'" Clearly, given all the weapons that he carried, Aurus was not the sort to take peace as synonymous with total pacifism. And as it turned out, though the voice in his mind snorted at him briefly, it did not actually argue the point.

About that snort though. That snort and the consciousness to which it was attached--neither were what one would call human in their contours. In fact if anything they were rather distinctly equine, walking around inside Aurus's mind on distinctly horse-like feet.

... a while. [Shrugging, Cloud peers at Tifa from under his bangs.] Why... are you out here, still?

[It's not so late it's dinner time, which is the reason he was kicked out - usually he helps his mom with dinner, but he'd been kind of snippy today and she was doing something a bit more complicated (such as it got) and had asked him to leave. But it's not so early in the afternoon he'd really have expected anyone to still be on the lake...

Which is why he'd come here at all.]

"I dunno." Sirius shifts his glance to Carrow, facedown in the alley and beset upon by muggle-or-at-least-muggle-born street urchins. If he's not dead of hitting his head when he went down, he'll wake up eventually, to the knowledge that he was pawed over and had his pockets turned out by this rough and ill-born gang. The thought kindles a petty vindictive cheer in Sirius. Some things, you just don't outgrow. "I've always been rather lucky. Could have been luck that saved my life."

He glances at the girl again, marks out the shape of her face and the cast of her mouth. Not that he's ignoring the others of her gang, but it's clear who the leader is. Self-elected, or elected by committee, or experience, or otherwise. It's certainly possible to get narrowed down to a few leaders, names crossed off the list by death after death. These days it's more possible than ever.

So back to her demand: "That's what you want?"

[11

(she touches the inside of her wrist, with her thumb--the way the men (mouthbreathers) would check for a pulse, the way Papa sometimes checked, with a smoother hand that 11 thought was very nice--she touches inside her wrist, and there is 11)

does not know where she is.

Pretty. Where she is, is pretty. She is wearing the Mike dress still. In a puddle next to the street she looked at her face and finds it not pretty. Her face is shaky in the rings. JELL-O, it's alive! goes the song on the screen. And 11 thinks, too, about the bath. Then she feels very bad.

So she gets up and steps her foot in the puddle.

This outside place is very big. There are many buildings and the hallways (streets) are twisted up. If she does not know where she is, then she has no place to go, so 11 walks to the end of this small hallway (alley) and looks around the corner.

People here have pets.

Pets, 11 thinks, but this is not right. She does not know what is right any more than she knows where she is. So she stares very hard at a girl who is pretty. This pretty girl has a pretty pet too. 11 thinks how good it would be, to have a pretty pet.]

Dog.

[She whispers it to herself. Her fingertips rub together on nothing. She is thinking of the soft way the yellow hair felt but she makes it softer.

The pretty girl is lucky, she thinks. Lucky? It's a word she has heard. It means good things that are easy. Like friends. Like the box of Eggos she has tucked under her arm. She squeezes that box very tight and looks very hard at the pretty girl.]

"That's what I want," she answers, her voice steady. Her hand, though, tightens on that stolen wand. "And more spells. Spells I can use to kill people like him. Which you should want, too, if you're his enemy."

Another one pipes up suddenly - the boy who'd relieved Carrow of the contents of his pockets, who's standing up now and watching the proceedings with interest. "And make him hand over any shit he's got can kill 'em," he urges the girl. "Make him turn his pockets out, woncha."

The girl turns back to the boy with a bit of exasperation on her face. "It's not a mugging. I'm not making him turn his pockets out." She looks back at Sirius, then, and lifts her eyebrows, lest he get any ideas - "Unless he tries something, which he's not going to do."

These stupid, ugly pillows!

[ he pulls out another pillow, this one the poop emoji, and holds it accusingly toward metatron. ] I don't even understand what this is supposed to be.

[ Or what metatron might be trying to say with it. maybe he's just being annoying for the hell of it. that would make sense, tbh. metatron is always very annoying and doesn't always have a reason for it. ]

[ They are gracious hosts as always, as to be expected of the Phantomhive household. Even with yet another unexpected arrival by one Earl Charles Grey himself does it not upset the flow, despite the tick in Ciel’s eye when he is torn away from his work.

They don’t stumble (much), as the servants have come to expect that with the arrival of one of the Queen’s personal butlers it is sure to mean business, and Sebastian easily takes over preparations for tea services, shooing Mey-Rin off to tend to something or another elsewhere.

Once they’re settled in the sitting room with a small array of tea cakes and pastries, served with a white darjeeling tea does Sebastian excuse himself, barely offering his master a subtle side-glance with his departure. He will stay close, of course. Listening. Waiting, should he be needed.

Ciel lifts his cup from it’s saucer to take a sip before he begins, setting it back down after a moment with a small grin. Practiced nonchalance. He has to be on his best behaviour, knows he’s being carefully watched like a naughty child. It’s rather amusing, really, but he must be on his best behavior when it comes to the Queen. ]

And to what do I owe the pleasure?

[ There’s a sarcastic lit hidden in his words, a flash of teeth as he sits back into his chair, elbows on the armrests and fingers steepled in front of him. It’s usually business, a letter from Her Majesty for another case. But sometimes you never know. Ciel wouldn’t put it past them to come here merely to upset his balance, see if he’s being a good boy.

Sometimes it's fun, if somewhat annoying. ]

Calloused hands grabbed for Legolas' waist automatically, a similar need to protect all vital parts crossing Artemis' mind as he briefly tried to help the other man settle in comfortably - and once more he found the combination of dirt and bronzed skin an incredible blessing as heat rushed across his face. That pale skin was as smooth as it looked, and it was as if he could feel Legolas' own body heat even through the water as he hovered over him.

Once he was sure that Legolas was settled, he removed his hands, quickly, and let his arms drape lazily over the sides of the tub before he needed to think too hard about where else to put them.

But even in his embarrassment, he still met the elf's eyes easily, and this time Legolas could see the way Artemis rolled his eyes and hear the snort that followed.

"I'm giving you this generous opportunity to have your way with me," he answered without hesitation, and even while keeping his voice flat and expression carefully unimpressed, there was no mistaking the teasing for what it was. "And the sooner you get it out of your system, the sooner I get to finally sleep in a real bed."

[lyra is back at jordan college for a few days, there is another obscure and meaningless holiday at school. she is free to roam, now, with no one to chastise her, but she feels confined to the streets in a way she hadn't before she left--before she left for london, really. london and her mother. perhaps it is her mother's influence, or dame hannah's, that keeps her quietly on the sidewalk. perhaps, less upsetting, it's only that the children her age have begun to go into trades. she recognizes none of them playing on the rooftops and in the alleys. she peers into shop windows, trying to think of something that would be interesting to buy, or even just to eat. a bun, maybe, or a bit of candy. idleness does not suit her. then pantalaimon murmurs:]

"That girl is staring at you."

[and lyra looks over and there she is, a girl about lyra's age, with uncommonly short hair and dress. but the really uncommon thing,]

"Where's her daemon?"

[asks pan, and lyra gasps.]

On the inside!

[lyra moves as if to sprint towards her, nearly dislodging pan from her shoulder. he gives her hair a sharp tug.]

"You don't know that."

[lyra frowns and turns her face back towards him.]

I do so. Look at her shoes! And her hair, it's short, like Mary's!

[pan sniffs.]

"Something's wrong. Doesn't she seem strange to you? Look how she's staring."

[lyra huffs.]

We en't never seen a witch so young. And they don't wear any shoes at all, much less the kind from Will's world. And her hair! Plus look at her dress, I only ever had a skirt like that--

"In Cittagazze."

[lyra scrunches up her face, because she's too old now, probably, to stick out her tongue at him.]

They got their daemons on the inside too, in Cittagazze. Whatever world she's from it en't this one. She needs our help, Pan.

[pan twitches his whiskers. he has a sense the girl's daemon might've been harmed in some way. but if it has, she'd need their help even more. he gives a small pine marten sigh.]

"Fine."

[so lyra sprints across the street to her, pantalaimon digging his little pine marten claws into her shoulder and back. she stops, breathless more from excitement than exertion, a few feet away from the girl and waves.]

Hullo, I'm Lyra, and this is Pan, Pantalaimon. Are you from the other Oxford?

[pan huffs a little breath against her ear, but only lyra can hear it.]

Edited 2016-09-13 09:35 (UTC)

[Birthdays were just another excuse to get drunk, show off wealth, and receive more presents from sycophants than usual. In exactly that order.

Before, he would have taken comfort at the day of his birth, the 10/10 just another sign of his destiny. This year, it felt more like a mockery. It was shameful, losing to a bunch of middle school aged scumbags, the idiotic rumors and speculation that surrounded his return, and the fact that the senile old man had taken it upon himself to pay a personal visit. 'To make amends' he had said, as if his betrayal and his weak kindness might somehow give Xanxus back the years he had lost. As if they could both forgive and forget trying to kill each other.

If Xanxus had his way, he would have spent the day in alone except for a good bottle of whiskey, but this was as much a homecoming as much as a birthday. If he was to take his place back at the head of the Varia, there were palms to grease, people to intimidate, and alliances to reform. The Varia had been managed as well as it could have, considering the circumstances, but they were a far cry from what they had been.

Which was probably why Belphegor had lost in that staring contest. Just another area where they'd gone soft, if Dino Cavallone could walk into the Varia stronghold without looking ready to piss himself. And wasn't that another irritant to add to insults? That the Cavallone Family had risen while the Varia had fallen. That the spineless crybaby Xanxus had looked down upon so much was now privy to his deepest shames.

Though it took considerable willpower, he didn't blast that mollifying look right off of Cavallone's face, but instead held out a hand for the gift. He'd judge then what his next course of action should be.]

Cavallone. [He inclined his head slightly. No 'Don', but it was as much respect as he could expect.] Take a seat.

[He might need some proper entertainment or a punching bag, and the Bucking Horse might be able to provide both.]

[ The sushi massacre comes and goes, and if there's a growl coming out of the back of Kyouya's throat, it's best to ignore it, the way the waitress studiously ignores him in favor of cleaning up the surrounding areas, empty tables and empty chairs, half-eaten food and wads of clash left by hurrying customers off spending their merry days away from the onset of world war three. He hears the cavallone's men move, maybe wary. Maybe in need of good camera angles.

He chews his own food slowly, as if the Cavallone's cultural and culinary ignorance is as hard to swallow as his measly attempts at creative folding. ]

You could ask him.

[ The baby, one that bears great and terrible knowledge, and a penchant for figuring out Kyouya before he can even plead guilty. Essentially, Dino might as well bare his neck under a guillotine the moment the baby so much as greets Kyouya when he passes through the street of Sawada Tsunayoshi's house.

Essentially, Kyouya likes the challenge and will do it, but not for anyone else, and not without knowing what really is at stake here. ]

Or is that too difficult of a feat for you?

[a while. That goes a long way toward feeding her cheerful mood. She doesn't like being alone, not really, even if sometimes she craves it at the same time. Cloud - doesn't feel like being alone but he still makes that part of her that craves it feel better. She doesn't understand it and she doesn't actually put much thought into it. It just is and it makes her feel better. That's enough.

He really does have some very nice eyes. Had she noticed that before or was his hair always in the way?

His question though has her blinking and going still for just a moment. So much of what she does is somewhere between an act to fit what other people expect and her honest self that she's just not used to anyone questioning it. Or her. Or -

why she's still out here on an empty lake all alone...

For just a second the 'village sweetheart' disappears and - its just her. Young and a little lost the way all teenagers were. Her hands tuck behind her and she shakes her hair, sending loose brown hair spilling over the shoulders of her coat and her scarf, lips pressed together.]

I guess - I just wasn't ready to go back yet.

[The smile comes back then, bright, curving her eyes and she gives a little shrug and a slight sway that lets her skates carry her sideways for just an inch or two.]

I mean, there's still a little sunlight left and today's been so pretty. I still have some energy to burn before I'm ready to go home.

[And she might not be as perceptive as she one day will but the seed of it is still there. Its what has her skating back closer to him and asking:]

What are you doing out here so late?

[The sound she makes at his observation is somewhere between a laugh and a giggle, smothered behind a glove, eyes dancing at him over the leather of it. She's - learning how to laugh again. It's been a long time since she could.

There's a lot she's learning, and not all of it started just because Sephiroth and Meteor were defeated. She's not the hollow barmaid in the slums that she'd once been, struggling to keep things together and her team safe and find some kind of purpose in life that went beyond making Shinra pay for what they'd done. She's - learned how to live again. How to look forward again. It's not always perfect and she's not always good about it but - she's learning. And a lot of that she thinks is the fault of the man next to her. She's got a long way to go, they both do - but she thinks... together they'll make it all right.]

Maybe we shouldn't ask. [Her eyes were still laughing and she nudged up against his shoulder.] As long as its warm it'll be a step up from what we're used to eating on the trail. Do you think we'll be lucky enough that they'll have hot cider too?

thursday pic prompt

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i just start typing triple : (

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......... : )

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:0 !

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I don't think they're allowable in the army barracks...

who IS as cute as couch prospero in the night tho. no one.

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literally no one! he is such a precious creature I cannot deal with him

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yes!!! sorry for lateness. starting with one! will move onto more because i love all these

it might take some stumbling but he'll come up with something :'>

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this starter is so good i am mad i only had a chance to tag it now

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snort considering the age of the recruits I'm surprised blankees aren't still allowed

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thursday pic prompt

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i just start typing triple : (

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......... : )

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:0 !

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I don't think they're allowable in the army barracks...

who IS as cute as couch prospero in the night tho. no one.

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literally no one! he is such a precious creature I cannot deal with him

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yes!!! sorry for lateness. starting with one! will move onto more because i love all these

it might take some stumbling but he'll come up with something :'>

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this starter is so good i am mad i only had a chance to tag it now

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*snort* considering the age of the recruits I'm surprised blankees aren't still allowed

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snort considering the age of the recruits I'm surprised blankees aren't still allowed