[exsilium] IC CONTACT

[crusthatecean]

APPARENTLY I DON'T HAVE TIME TO DEAL WITH YOU RIGHT NOW,
BUT THAT ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU, IS IT?
YOU WON'T BE SATISFIED UNTIL YOU'VE MONOPOLIZED EVERY MICROSECOND OF MY LIFE WITH YOUR ASININE COMMENTS AND PETTY AWFUL PERSONAL PROBLEMS.
WELL, FINE.
PLEASE PROCEED IN AN EFFICIENT MANNER TO EXPECTORATE YOUR PROBLEMS ALL OVER MY WAITING ENGORGED PATIENCE NODES.
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?

Comments

[Arrival]

[crusthatecean]

[So this jerk is going to show up in the apartment sometime after meeting up with his troll friends.

He's moving in, your new roommate is a tiny grey candy-corn horned brat.]

[accidentalrebellion]

[When the tiny grey candy-corn horned brat arrives in the apartment, he'll find that he's not alone. Over on the far wall, by the window, next to a propped bow and quiver of arrows, is a brat of a whole other kind. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and for the moment, her eyes are fixed on some unknown point outside. (Or, more like, she's vaguely glaring at something outside.)

If she's heard the arrival, she doesn't acknowledge him.]

[crusthatecean]

Who are you?

[He was not prepared to have to share, especially not to have a complete stranger in his space.]

[accidentalrebellion]

[Well, okay, fine. That merits an acknowledgment. She turns, and what she sees is a little startling.

It's not the fact that he's grey; in the Capitol, people have dyed themselves all kinds of colors in the name of "fashion." Even the horns, though odd in and of themselves, might not look so odd there either. No, it's the fact that all of this is on something so tiny. Tiny, and vaguely angry looking.]

Who are you? [Maybe on a scale of alarming, this isn't quite to the level of the blue person who looks like her, but she now has a hand on that bow nearby. Just in case.]

[crusthatecean]

I asked you first.

[Scowling, but although he has sharp teeth, his expression doesn't really look threatening, just annoyed.]

I live here.

[accidentalrebellion]

[Two can totally play the scowling game, okay. It can kind of be her signature, and here it's no exception. Scowling teenage girl who's not letting go of that bow anytime soon.]

How? [She saw nothing to be an indication of it.]