Rules: 1. Post with your character by creating a "card" with your name, sex, and preferences. 2. Tag to others. 3. You supposedly only have seven minutes, but that's up to the muns how many comments. [To hell with that, let's not put a limit on how many comments] 4. Have fun.
Oh no. No, you don't. You don't get to just - pretend like you didn't just make that stop. Nobody, nobody has ever been able to make it stop. Ever. Not even my closest friends. So you're going to stop being a jerk about it and tell me how you just stopped a Banshee from wailing. Right now. ( arms folded over chest, scowl, loud pouty woman face, all the best traits of angry single white female. )
[ben looks at a loss, shifting from one foot to the other. no one has ever really questioned him, just told him a million 'thank yous' or tried to get a good grope of him, as if that would save them from their troubles.
he contemplates just walking away, but he doesn't doubt she'd stop him, or follow him.]
I wasn't lyin' when I said I didn't know.
[now it's his turn to be miffed.]
Don't you be callin' me no jerk. Just 'cos you're pretty don't mean you can get away with anything you want. I don't owe you nothin'.
( ben has run into entirely the wrong girl, then. poor unfortunate soul. all questions all the time. always looking for answers, to know more... yep. he's boned. )
That's an incredible gift. I could help you figure out what it is, if you want.
( OH BUT THEN HE'S REALLY INSULTING. sort of. backwards compliment. there is a moment of almost pleased surprise, though, and she's distracted by the words 'you're pretty'. )
You think I'm pr-- ( NO LYDIA STAY YOUR COURSE. ) - It has nothing to do with whether I'm pretty or not. Of course you don't owe me anything. But I think we could help each other. Clearly there's something different about you. You're something. And I don't think you owe me anything, but I think if you were a little bit less obtuse, you might have better luck understanding your abilities, and what you're supposed to do with them. ( she starts out strong, definitely still angry, but her tone grows gentler as she proceeds. he's a time bomb of emotions. )
[he doesn't want help, doesn't want to face what he's supposedly meant to do with his gift, whatever it was. she's almost a more pushy version of management, and the way she's talking to him sends him reeling back to the day he killed lodz.]
Not today.
[he holds his hands up, as if he's telling her to stop, and takes another step away. he's done-- this is too much for him to take in, and he needs a break, needs time to think. he turns on his heel and walks away without looking back.]
i think we're on our own w this one
but he acts like he doesn't know what she's talking about. he wants to snake his way out of this conversation and leave.]
Do what?
warning danger will robinson
abandon ship
he contemplates just walking away, but he doesn't doubt she'd stop him, or follow him.]
I wasn't lyin' when I said I didn't know.
[now it's his turn to be miffed.]
Don't you be callin' me no jerk. Just 'cos you're pretty don't mean you can get away with anything you want. I don't owe you nothin'.
walks the plank quietly
That's an incredible gift. I could help you figure out what it is, if you want.
( OH BUT THEN HE'S REALLY INSULTING. sort of. backwards compliment. there is a moment of almost pleased surprise, though, and she's distracted by the words 'you're pretty'. )
You think I'm pr-- ( NO LYDIA STAY YOUR COURSE. ) - It has nothing to do with whether I'm pretty or not. Of course you don't owe me anything. But I think we could help each other. Clearly there's something different about you. You're something. And I don't think you owe me anything, but I think if you were a little bit less obtuse, you might have better luck understanding your abilities, and what you're supposed to do with them. ( she starts out strong, definitely still angry, but her tone grows gentler as she proceeds. he's a time bomb of emotions. )
follows :c
No.
[he doesn't want help, doesn't want to face what he's supposedly meant to do with his gift, whatever it was. she's almost a more pushy version of management, and the way she's talking to him sends him reeling back to the day he killed lodz.]
Not today.
[he holds his hands up, as if he's telling her to stop, and takes another step away. he's done-- this is too much for him to take in, and he needs a break, needs time to think. he turns on his heel and walks away without looking back.]