o17 . voice/action; Band Candy START!

[watchher]

[ The regain arrives while Giles is out. He returns home to a flurry of baking, cookies and brownies having taken over the kitchen, drone children chattering about a bake sale. He accepts a double-chocolate brownie absentmindedly, and doesn't notice the familiar wrappers on the counter until it is far, far too late. ]

[ voice, late afternoon ]

[ For those who know Rupert Giles or Nathan Wallace, this voice will be intensely familiar. The accent is wrong, though; still British, but not as crisp as Giles'. ]

Bleeding hell, there really is nothing to do around here, is there?

[ action, evening ]

[ Throughout the evening, you might find Giles on any street in Mayfield. His outfit is lacking the usual formality and unnecessary layers; he's in jeans and a white tee, short sleeves displaying the normally-hidden tattoo on his left forearm. If your character would be the type to recognize it as a demonic summoning rune... well, feel free.

You might find him lounging against a street light or at the mouth of an alleyway, glasses gone and a cigarette between his lips, making a hobby of looking surly and dangerous. He leers at pretty young women who pass; he gives appraising looks to men who seem like they might be fun to pick a fight with. If you look interesting enough, he'll probably fall into pace alongside you, moving more loosely than Giles does, grinning more manically. ]

Evening.

[[ For any who might have missed it, player plot info is here! Effects will have worn off fully by Sunday night at the latest. Replies may come from stevedore. ]]

Comments

[ Action - Noonish ]

[sir_hellsing]

[Integra sidesteps the table and children at the curb, shaking her head at the offers of chocolate chip cookies and other treats. Shifting the strap of her satchel to the opposite shoulder after waiting a long moment at the door, she tries the handle and finds it unlocked.]

Hello?

[stevedore]

[ Giles emerges from the other room, hands slung in the pockets of his jeans, tattoo blatantly visible on his arm. He's only just changed, having spent the past twenty minutes slowly realizing how much he hated his outfit.

He's been realizing a lot of things.

When he stops in the doorway and grins at her, something in his posture and expression is subtly undeniably wrong. ]

Brilliant, I was hoping I'd have company.

[ His accent's changed. ]

[sir_hellsing]

[Something is wrong. It chimes like a warning bell in the back of her mind, even before the words have left his mouth. It isn't so much the casual attire as it is how Giles holds himself, his very presence in the room changed.

Integra sizes him up, similar to how she regarded him when they first met months earlier. The mark on his arm is disturbingly familiar to her, and she's slow to reply as her mind works furiously to find the reason for it. Her tone remains amiable.]

I'm happy to have caught you at home then. I've just brought back Dracula and I would like your opinion, and possibly your help, with something.

[Lessons with her father and years of self-study are called to mind. Vampires were a problem at home, but never Hellsing's only problem.]

[stevedore]

Not really in the mood to analyze.

[ He makes a face, disdain and vague irritation and more than a hint of impatience. It's his body language, though, that is radically different; he moves slowly but more fluidly, constantly, without direction or discipline. There is a restless air about him, in how he rocks a little on the balls of his feet and in his deliberate slouch. ]

I was hoping to get out and have some fun, actually.

[sir_hellsing]

[And she takes it all in, dissecting and inspecting him like she would any intended target. The light bulb goes off, a revelation that narrows her eye. She slips a hand casually into her bag, nudging past books and her copious notes to close on a slim flask tucked into an inside pocket.

Integra shrugs a shoulder, sidling a little closer, something suggestive in her voice.]

And what sort of "fun" are you looking for, Eyghon?

[It's about this time she drops the satchel to the carpet and slashes at him like she would a knife, except in this case Giles will be getting a face full of holy water from a silver flask.]

[stevedore]

[ Her tone sparks something smug and pleased in his expression, surprise coming second to his desire for something risky, something exciting. He realizes what she's up to an instant too late, and recoils from the movement with a broken-off shout of alarm...

... as the holy water splashes across his face and chest, doing absolutely nothing. Ripper reels back, completely unhurt but now dripping on the carpet. ]

Fucking hell!

[sir_hellsing]

[Her next move is to take advantage of his momentum, to grab for his shirt and shove him back against the wall. The lack of skin sizzling does not deter her just yet-- there are other ways to smother a person's will.]

Who the Hell are you? What have you done with Rupert?

[stevedore]

Bloody-- fucking-- get off me!

[ He struggles, shoving back at her, but relents when it becomes apparent that she's not attacking him again. Back against the wall, he stares back defiantly, snarl becoming a sneer. ]

Are you high?

[sir_hellsing]

Answer the damn question.

[The statement comes out low, cold, brooking no refusal. It's the sort of tone that implies fingers are about to be broken.]

[stevedore]

How? It's a damn stupid one.

[ He remains undaunted, arrogant irritation outweighing his fear. ]

I'm not some bleeding impostor.

[sir_hellsing]

You're Rupert Giles.

[Things aren't adding up here. Still disbelieving, she adds after a pause,]

How old are you?

[stevedore]

Rupert Edmund Giles. Too old.

[ He gives another shove, trying to push her off of him. ]

March third, W. Bush, are you going to ask me how many fingers you're holding up?

[sir_hellsing]

[Integra braces against the pushing, waiting until Giles has quit struggling to let him go and allow him some room.]

I very well should, with how you're acting. Do you know who I am?

[stevedore]

[ He makes a low noise of exasperation at her resistance, then straightens up and swipes water off his chin with the back of a hand. ]

Yeah, you're the mad one-eyed knight who drops by every now and again to leave flowers or shake a sword at me. If you wanted to get rough you could've just asked, love.

[ It's said dismissively, no real leer behind it, but is still so utterly un-Giles as to be startling. ]

Late post is so exceptionally late >>'

[sir_hellsing]

[It stings, surprisingly so coming from him, but outwardly she doesn't betray her thoughts. Her retort is low, polished,]

A pity for you I'm not interested.



[A thought occurs to her, even as she's salving the mark the barb left behind.] Does this have something to do with the sweets your children are pushing off onto people out front?

[stevedore]

[ He's properly sneering at her, now; condescending, losing fear and interest. ]

Why would I feel like talking to you?

[ He flicks holy water off his fingers for emphasis. ]