Post by Joe on Nov 25, 2012 2:12:50 GMT -5
because joe didn't have a settled home and therefore no calender, he truly did not know how long it had been since he had last seen Malakai. But, since their last meeting and almost resulted in hypothermia and Colorado was graced with a severe drop in temperature and a light dusting of snow, he reckoned it had been long enough. During the day or so that they had been acquainted, it had become apparent that she was not a forgiving soul, but instead was filled with some sort of swirling acidic rage that she spat out like the hissing serpent that she seemed to be not-so-deep down.
Seeing as how he had saved her life that one time, he figured she would forgive him for almost killing her that other time.
Plus, it was getting colder and colder and he was beginning to fear for his extremities.
barefoot, freezing his scrawnier than he had been previously ass off, he hiked his way across the city. He had wrapped himself in a stolen ragtag coat, but that bitchass who owned the block a street over had stolen his kicks and he had no replacement. (he mentally made a note about persuading to have Mal visit him one night.)
now he stood agape, the hugeass mansion in all its majesty sat before him in the hazy afternoon light. oh how he missed its plush carpets underfoot and the gentle KKRRSHHHHHHHHHHH sound of fully-functioning toilets. oh yeah and Mal too. The shifter was not so oblivious to believe he would be let in the front gate and into its hallowed halls and clean facilities. mostly because he smelled funny and had no shoes. Thus, it was entirely necessary to scale a hedge and a fence with monkey-like agility and then crush a previously pristine flower bed after gravity and all those cigarettes caught up with him. Had to take a break to catch his breath after that.
All in all, after some serious 007-ing it out of the view of what appeared to be a gardener and the man sitting guard at the gate, he found himself greeted by the semi-familiar sight of the front door. Shabbily-dressed, sleep-deprived, and under-fed he stood, like a conquering hero as he reached up and with a sharp rap on the door, come to ruin her day.
"MAL IT'S ME C'MON AND OPEN THE DAMN DOOR OR HAVE JEEVES GET IT WILL YOU I'M NOT SURE HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS COLD I CAN TAKE--"
[ proof-reading and spellcheck are for wusses. ]
Seeing as how he had saved her life that one time, he figured she would forgive him for almost killing her that other time.
Plus, it was getting colder and colder and he was beginning to fear for his extremities.
barefoot, freezing his scrawnier than he had been previously ass off, he hiked his way across the city. He had wrapped himself in a stolen ragtag coat, but that bitchass who owned the block a street over had stolen his kicks and he had no replacement. (he mentally made a note about persuading to have Mal visit him one night.)
now he stood agape, the hugeass mansion in all its majesty sat before him in the hazy afternoon light. oh how he missed its plush carpets underfoot and the gentle KKRRSHHHHHHHHHHH sound of fully-functioning toilets. oh yeah and Mal too. The shifter was not so oblivious to believe he would be let in the front gate and into its hallowed halls and clean facilities. mostly because he smelled funny and had no shoes. Thus, it was entirely necessary to scale a hedge and a fence with monkey-like agility and then crush a previously pristine flower bed after gravity and all those cigarettes caught up with him. Had to take a break to catch his breath after that.
All in all, after some serious 007-ing it out of the view of what appeared to be a gardener and the man sitting guard at the gate, he found himself greeted by the semi-familiar sight of the front door. Shabbily-dressed, sleep-deprived, and under-fed he stood, like a conquering hero as he reached up and with a sharp rap on the door, come to ruin her day.
"MAL IT'S ME C'MON AND OPEN THE DAMN DOOR OR HAVE JEEVES GET IT WILL YOU I'M NOT SURE HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS COLD I CAN TAKE--"
[ proof-reading and spellcheck are for wusses. ]
