Logfile from M3

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Good afternoon."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Good afternoon. I was wondering when you'd show up again."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "I figured as much."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Mm, well. And when the local morgues didn't report any bodies matching your description, I'd figured it was only a matter of time."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*slightly incredulous* You keep tabs on the morgues?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Or...just me? *audible smirk*"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<deadpans> It is my job."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*sounding far too much like Abernathy* Oh so!"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Hmph. Not that I expect you to care much about that."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Tsk, tsk."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Oh, have I misspoken again?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Depends. Do you think you have?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Maybe. The chiding tone gave me a moment of self-doubt."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*tsks again* Have you no confidence in your own words, sirrah?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "I'd think, you know, with you being a diplomat and all..."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<snorts> Oh, most of the time, it isn't any problem. I find myself second-guessing my own motives more and more lately, though. I blame the commander."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "The who?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Commander Prismatic Spider, of the Repliforce. He has some very noble ideas of mercy."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "/Oh/. I was wondering what you were talking about. So, mercy, hey? How... old-fashioned. </amused>"

<Global News Network> Please pardon our interruption of 'Super Kawaii Death Force' as we bring you this urgent report on... /Insanity./ /In./ /Illinois./ Several of the notorious Doctor Wily's Robot Masters have struck without warning or provocation against a storage facility currently being rented out to a major producer of various foodstuffs. The intentions of the androids are not yet known, however they are likely hazardous to the general population. We will keep you up to date as the situation develops and the proper authorities are called in to assist.

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Why do they /always/ have to interrupt Super Kawaii Death Force? I swear."

[Radio: (F) Public] Freeze Man transmits, "That show is unnatural."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Which is exactly why I would watch it."

[Radio: (F) Public] Freeze Man transmits, "I bet people elsewhere are blessing."

[Radio: (F) Public] Abernathy transmits, "Freak."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Tch."

[Radio: (F) Public] Freeze Man transmits, "Who?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Quite likely me, but then, you never know."

[Radio: (F) Public] Freeze Man transmits, "Hmm.".

[Radio: (F) Public] Alpha sadly, "Super Kawaii Death Force..."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Yes."

[Radio: (F) Public] Freeze Man transmits, "Oh, HONESTLY."

[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Light transmits, "Don't worry, Alpha. I have the VCR set."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste stifles a laugh.

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Mm. Very. But, ostensibly, it has its merits."

[Radio: (F) Public] Alpha transmits, "But what if they do something different?"

[Radio: (F) Public] GNN Manager Chest transmits, "I swear, if it turns out I'm wasting resources covering a damn ice cream raid, heads are going to roll."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Ostensibly."

[Radio: (F) Public] Freeze Man transmits, "Next time we go out to commit our special brand of mayhem and terrorism, we'll do our best to make sure it doesn't co-incide with your favourite shows. So long as you send us the details first, of course. I'll draw up a sort of planner."

[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Light transmits, "Different? My child, I've seen Super Kawaii Death Force for decades. They never do anything different."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "How kind of you, sir."

[Radio: (F) Public] Alpha transmits, "Oh. Well, alright, thank you."

[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Light transmits, "But just in case, I'll set it to record for a half hour longer. In case it's a special. I would have just used the Tivo, but after the toaster accident, well, it's on backorder."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits the sound of scribbling. "So, when are you planning on going out and wreaking mayhem next? Maybe I could just tape it."

[Radio: (F) Public] Freeze Man transmits, "Sometimes you people embarass me..."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Ever wonder if the opposite is true?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Freeze Man transmits, "No."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste scribbles some more. "I see."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "So, then. Prithee, speak with me awhile on the topic of this 'mercy'. It gets in your way, does it?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<mutters> Fanaticism does have its advantages."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Always."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "And yet, I still rail against it where I see it rampant in the Mavericks and other organizations alike."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*almost viciously, and yet still amused* What, /mercy/?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<amused> Fanaticism. I yell at my /allies/ for showing mercy."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "I see."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Do you? Or is that merely a reflex?"

<Live News> "This is Chest, reporting live and on the scene from Illinois!" The image of Chest himself appears, holding a microphone and gesturing to what's going on behind him. "As you can see here, the Robot Masters are assaulting a food storage facility. As of yet we are uncertain what they are trying to accomplish, but in all likelihood they are here to steal, not destroy. We'll see if we can't determine exactly what the #$@% the Robot Masters are up to."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Tch, tch, trying to ruin my fun, are you?"

<Live News> And first out of the Skull Shuttle, it's... some kind of missile! Surely the Masters don't intend to blow this place up in a tide of mayonaissey goodness that will surely drown hundreds of innocents? No-one could be so cruel as to give people DEATH BY EGGING!

In fact no, they're not, as that missile is in fact a giant spike of ice, which, after its jacknife dive towards the groundal area, explodes into a ballistic blast of icy chunks, revealing Freeze Man's indistinct form among the mist. He raises up, mist peeling from his body as his armour simultaneously fills in along his body to replace it. Cold dew glistens along his visor, creating a spectacular lens flare kind of effect. Excellent pre-battle pose- complete!

"Alright, screw the mission, I'm going to find someone to kill."

Succint, isn't he? (Repose for the masses!)

You will no longer hear messages on channel <Live News>.

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<deadpan> Yes. I'm the Man. It's my job to be a killjoy and oppress you cruelly."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Curse you."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Everyone does."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "That must do wonders for your self-esteem."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Are you sure you're in quite a position to say that?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Oh, of course."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "That's the whole /point/."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Mm. The Fool, allows himself to be debased voluntarily, just for the sake of challenging others from the dirt. Fitting."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*mock-hurt* Why, I never!"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Oh, ha. Don't be so coy."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Coy? Me?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Absolutely not. I won't stand for it."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<ruefully> And to think I was eager to talk to you again. I must be a masochist."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Oh, come on."

You paged Abernathy with '<Reijin> I kept TRYING to tell you people: it's the 9 CHA, it just goes straight to your heads!'.

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Surely I must not be /that/ bad."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Mm, no. I wouldn't quite call it torture, but you are a lesson in patience, dear Fool."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Oh, of course."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "That, too, is the whole point."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*amused* You, on the other hand..."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Oh, we're talking about me now?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*chuckling* Are we?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "You make it so confusing, sirrah. One moment I know for sure we are talking about something, but then you have to go and question it."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Yes, well. That too is a reflex. You spend most of your life asking, 'why?' and not getting answers, and it eventually gets hardwired out of hope that you might be told something useful one of these days. ... I'm still waiting."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Terribly sorry. I doubt I'll be any help with that."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Not why I keep you around, either way."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "...mhm."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "And why do you keep me around, sirrah?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "To be truthful? Primarily morbid curiosity. And a little fellow-feeling, of a sort."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Hm."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Hm?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*faintly dismayed* Oh, nothing."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "I doubt it, but carry on."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Doubt it all you like."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "... Well, this is devolving into a rather interesting conversation. 'Hello, I'm making a statement.' 'I object!' 'All right, fine. Next statement.' Etc."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*chuckles*"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*cheerfully* I /object/."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<amused> Oh, shut up."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "And what happens if I refuse?"

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "It depends. I may hunt you down, tie you to a chair, and force you to shut up, or I may sit here and take it."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Frankly, option number one sounds more interesting."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<drawls> Really."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Really."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "... Then we'll see what I can arrange."

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*laughs quietly*"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Of course, you have to find me first..."

[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Let me guess. London?"

[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "But of course."

Abernathy arrives from the London - Eastern Residential.

Abernathy has arrived.

Feste is, of course, hiding somewhere, because this is a game. Games are more fun when you want to win, so... he is hiding. In the Plague Rat.

Okay, so he isn't trying very hard, but. Maybe he really would like to be tied to a chair. Hm.

If Feste's hiding in the Plague Rat--as expected--then the 'residents' are in for a rather weird sight, as, in short order, someone pushes open the door.

It's Abernathy. And he's carrying a bundle of rope slung over his shoulder. And he's wearing a /hat/--green and yellow and red fool's motley. With bells.

Maybe it's the stress of the job getting to him.

...bells. At the door. There's something symbolic in that, something Feste has temporarily forgotten and will probably remember much later. Something about the Fair People...anyway. Bells.

Feste, sitting at the counter having a quiet word with Evan, pauses in midsentence to turn and look. If only Raleigh were he-- oh wait, there he is, lurking somewhere nearby, and now...gawking at Feste's creepy friend Adrian. Who is carrying rope and wearing motley.

The Fool turns completely around, so as to get a real good look at this. He's got to make sure he's not just seeing things, here. He arches his eyebrows in sheer disbelief.

Note to self, Feste thinks. Do not underestimate this one.

"Excuse me, Evan," he says quietly, while the publican just...stares.

Let it be a lesson to Feste that Abernathy doesn't make threats he won't carry out, given enough reason to actually do it. Thus the rope. The hat was something else entirely, though it's of a cheer totally out of step with his usual gothic demeanor. And most of the bar's, in fact, but what the hell; a black sense of humor doesn't automatically exclude a perverse one, as well.

Noting the eyes on him, the Director does -- absolutely nothing, not even offering so much as a nod to Raleigh, Feste, or any of the other bar inhabitants. He's a man on a mission, and so with the quiet jingling of bells, he steps away from the door to stalk toward Feste.

The Fool merely stares for a moment, expression a mixture of amusement, disbelief, and... respect. A very strange sort of respect, that, but... hey.

Feste, grinning like a loon, turns back to Evan and the nearby Raleigh, who are both just staring in shock. "This will take a moment. And ah, it isn't what it looks like. Promise."

Feste's...warning, of sorts, goes only barely heard. They're too busy staring like idiots.

"I love your hat," Feste says as he turns back around, on the verge of laughter.

"And what, pray tell, is it supposed to look like?"

Abernathy steps up at just that moment, tilting his head to one side with a quiet jangle of bells. It looks so -- incongruous. Six-foot-one albino, snappy, almost military black outfit, black sunglasses that would do an Agent proud, and -- the hat. With the bells. Yes.

"And thank you. I'd thought you might appreciate it." These words are said, deadpan, in the face of Feste's amusement. If there is one thing Abernathy can do, it's act perfectly normal when the world is going crazy around him. Or, in this case, when he's doing something particularly bizarre.

Good question, thinks Feste. How to explain to a tavern full of people why he is being tied to a chair. Hm.

"I imagine," says Feste, with that ever-amused manner of his, "that it is supposed to look like a foolscap." And off he goes, once again answering a completely different question!

And to this, Abernathy merely gives a shake of his head. He expected that, really. Turning to face Lady Evan, he offers her a half-bow -- with appropriate jingle of bells -- and says, "M'lady Evan, might I trouble you for a chair? I'll return it in one piece, I promise."

Just you wait, Feste. Oh, yes. "And Feste, as well. I can't quite guarantee his safety, but it should be assured, if he doesn't struggle."

Evan just continues staring, silent for one long moment before finally speaking up. It occurred to her that she might want to ask /why/ he wanted a chair, but her publican's sensibilities answer with, 'To sit down in, of course!' Meaning that she'd be better off not asking.

Feste, having now slipped off the stool and onto his feet, waits patiently -- cheerfully -- to be tied to said chair.

Raleigh, leaning against the bar, murmurs, "He's stealing your act, man."

Feste merely nods in response, then...idly walks over to a nearby table -- partially occupied -- and pulls out a chair.

Abernathy maintains his cool impassivity as he watches Feste retrieve the chair, though there is a glimmer of approval in his eyes -- hidden, thankfully, by sunglasses. He shifts slightly, hiking the rope a little higher on his shoulder and setting his hat to jingling once more as he does so. "Ah. Good. Have a conveniently seedy back alley we can borrow, too, or is that too much to hope for?" Again, his tone is perfectly -- absolutely -- deadpan. And though the question is addressed to Evan, he's watching Feste.

"Out the door and to the left," responds Evan, impassively, as she returns to wiping off the counter. Raleigh, of course, is shocked at this, but since he's being ignored...

Feste smirks, oh-so-amused, hand on the chair. A slight protest arises from the table -- something along the lines of 'hey! we need that chair, you git!' -- but a wave of Feste's free hand is all it takes to silence them.

Poor Raleigh. Abernathy could only imagine what this might look like to someone totally uninvolved. Or would, if he were focused on such things. Instead, he's keeping an eye on Feste -- and waiting on Evan's response. Once he receives it, he gives a little, satisfied nod, and crosses from bar to Fool. "Well then. Shall we?" He gives a slight nod to the door, a positively wicked look in his eyes. Oh dear.

With a slight, quiet chuckle, Feste begins noisily dragging the chair out the door. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" he says to Abby, with another of those charming smiles. Pretty cheerful for someone who is about to be tied to a chair...

Abernathy ambles toward the door, making his own fair amount of noise. *jingle* *jingle* *jingle* Pausing there, he holds the door open for the chair-encumbered Fool -- waiting quite complacently for Feste to step outside. Then the killing -- err -- tying to chairs can begin. And everyone in the Plague Rat is just going to have to wonder what in the name of heaven is going on. "Yes, let's. After you."

"Why, thank you," says Feste, pausing to look Abernathy in the eye.

Yep. This is certainly going to take some explaining... but nevertheless, Feste heads out the door, chair right behind him.

Abernathy steps out the door after Feste, closing the door behind them with a final-sounding *click*. He pulls the bundle of rope of his shoulder off his shoulder shortly thereafter, running a part of it through his hands and looking for an end. "Not a problem. Do sit down on the chair, if you'd be so kind." This is, of course, assuming the Fool intends to cooperate. If he doesn't, it could be a lot more fun. ... 'Fun'.

The Fool drags the chair a little farther down the alleyway before stopping. He deposits the chair right there, smack dab in the middle of it, and crosses his arms. Well, that's a rather mischievous little smile he's got there.

"I thought the whole point of this was that you were supposed to make me, or am I mistaken?"

A pause. "Yes, that could be one point of the exercise," Abernathy murmurs, narrowing his eyes at Feste. Ah, look -- he found one end of the rope. Idly, and without looking, he begins working on a knot. "How are your ribs feeling?" he asks, suddenly. It's an important question. Believe him.

Uh oh.

Feste cocks his head sideways, not quite grasping the importance of that question. "A little sore, actually. Why do you ask?"

"Pity. The wound's healing well, I presume?" Abernathy's still working on that knot. Looks like a slipknot, or some variant thereof. With a squeak of rope on rope, he tightens it somewhat -- then glances up at Feste, smiling slyly.

"Er, yes, actually," Feste says, a bit confused by now. Not that he should be, of course. He should've known what it was he was getting himself into... oops.

"Oh, good." Abernathy tugs on the rope once more, checking his knot, then favors Feste with that sly smile again. And, with a jingle of the bells on his hat, he steps away from the door and starts toward the Fool at an easy walk. Last chance to run like hell from the madman with a rope, Feste!

Feste's smile half-fades into a still-amused-but-quite-bewildered smirk. Oh dear... The Fool stands ready, backing up slightly. Ready to dodge. Or something.

Actually, Abernathy's not going to do anything so rash as to, so, tackle Feste. No, that would probably result in nasty, hard to explain bruises for both of them. And that was always, always unpleasant. Instead, he walks rather complacently over to Feste, and aims to take ahold of one of the Fool's arms. "Well, then. I'd rather not hurt you more than I have to, but if you insist on being particularly difficult about this ... "

Head still cocked sideways, Feste takes a good, long look at Abernathy. "Well," he responds, amiably enough, "would you rather I were difficult?" A hint of a wink to accompany his almost-teasing tone. Oh, what a fool.

Of course, Feste slightly objects to be grabbed, and jerks his arm away.

Giving a slight shake of his head, Abernathy returns that look -- before making another grab at the Fool. "It might prove interesting," he murmurs. "But I think we've already determined that it's very bad for your health." But then, who's he to argue? Feste is pressing the issue.

"I see," Feste retorts, quite amused at this point. "Perhaps I ought to go a little more peacefully, then," he observes, this time allowing his arm to be caught -- and immediately circling his own arm around, to the outside, trapping Abby's arm under his own -- if successful, of course. Basic aikido, yay!

You strike Abernathy with a glancing hit from your Grasp attack.

Abernathy is grabbed back! Oh nos! Well, it's what he gets for tangling with people larger than himself. Hm. Now that his arm's trapped, what in the world is he to do? Hey, he's got another free hand, and he's holding the rope with that. "Perhaps you might," Abernathy concurs, thoughtfully. And reaches over to attempt to slip the slipknotted loop of rope over the Fool's nearer wrist. Hum hum. LEASH.

Abernathy strikes you with a glancing hit from his Grasp for 0 units of damage.

The Fool keeps a firm grip on Abby's arm. How nice. Unfortunately, there's this new problem of the rope around his other wrist. Thankfully, it's the mechanical one (ohoho). Why this is a good thing, who knows, but Feste fully intends to use it to his advantage.

He releases the rope-less arm and jerks his leashed hand firmly to the side, with the idea that he'll pull Abby closer into range.

"Perhaps I shall."

In theory, anyway. Abernathy is a little stronger than he looks, however, and so braces his feet and tugs back. Just hard enough to tighten that slipknot down, nice and secure. "Hmm. 'Perhaps' isn't much of a guarantee," he comments. "And I would like to know before I get unduly violent trying to force you into that chair." It would be nice, he reflects, as he carefully gathers up the rest of the rope with his free hand, if he actually had some kind of advantage of reach or weight on the Fool. But, alas, he does not, so this will be all the harder.

Feste, now with hand secured, continues pulling on his end, and... takes a step forward. "Alright. I suppose I can calm down a little, if you wish..." Just the slightest bit teasing, there, but then, isn't he always, when it comes to Abernathy?

Oh, hello. Abernathy tilts his head back slightly, arching a brow at the taller Fool. He does maintain the tension on the rope as Feste steps closer, being sure to wind the slack up with the rest of the rope as best he can, one-handed. "Call it misplaced concern for your health," he says, conversationally.

"And, besides," he adds, tone positively wicked, "I wasn't sure if you liked it rough."

On 'rough', he gives the rope a particularly harsh jerk, trying to drag Feste a little bit closer to the chair. Fortunately, since they're both standing /right next to it/, it's only a little bit closer he needs to get the Fool.

Feste *looms*, teasing smile still plastered onto his face. If he's going to get tied to a chair, he might as well have fun doing it. Even if that fun is playing with Abby's mind. Tsk.

"How...chivalrous of you," he returns, accent thickening. Funny how it would just do that. His accent is, in and of itself, a curious thing -- a mix of Norwegian and standard British. Hm. But. Off-topic.

With a wink, he takes another step forward. Dangerously close, now. "Isn't that what you're here to find out?" And then he's jerked forward.

Abernathy is so short. Sniff. Curse those missing five inches of height; now he's getting loomed over. Not that this seems to bother him terribly. It just makes things, as said previously, a little more difficult. He smirks up at the fool, replying: "Oh, I am the very model of chivalry, when I bother to be." He, of course, generally speaks English unnaccented. Well, maybe a trace of a British accent -- it just /sounds/ /so/ sexy. Or something. And Russian accents always set off people's memories of the Cold War. Or something.

"Oh, perhaps. Perhaps. I can think of better venues than a back alley for /that/, however," Abernathy continues, practically purring. He leans forward, further minimizing what little distance is left between them, and rest a hand on the Fool's chest. To tear his shirt off dramatically, to the cheers of thousands of fangirls? ... Nah. Just trying to force him to the chair.

"'Perhaps'... isn't much of a guarantee," Feste observes. Always one to twist someone else's words against them, this Feste, but then, you already knew this.

The hand is allowed, of course. Feste offers only slight resistance -- at first. Oh, he'll sit down... eventually...

"Truth."

Abernathy clenches his hand in the material of Feste's shirt. Intending to tear it off now, maybe? No. He cocks his head to one side, slightly, still regarding the Fool thoughtfully. This, of course, causes some of the bells on his hat to fall across his eyes -- *jingle* -- and though it's somewhat distracting, he doesn't seem bothered by it. "But I can guarantee you I won't be trying anything particularly -- indecent. Beyond tying you to a chair." A slight smirk emphasizes these words.

Oo~ooh!

"Oh, I trust you," Feste says, voice low. "You are, after all..." Wait. Calling him 'Director' at this point would likely break the mood. So Feste won't, ha ha. "...who you are."

He looks downward at the hand on his shirt. "Aren't you going to push me?" he teases, chuckling. "Go on..."

"And what exactly is that repititious statement supposed to mean?" Abernathy murmurs, quietly. He did catch the moment's hesitation, and just had to wonder ...

Feste's question does prompt a brief, low laugh from Abernathy. "Oh, is that a challenge?" he asks, giving the Fool something of a shove. Not hard enough to knock him over, and almost friendly in that way, but a push nonetheless. Sit down, boy.

"Nothing," Feste answers, with a grin. And he is shoved. It was the intended reaction, after all.

Feste... sits on command. Good Fool, have a biscuit. Apparently he has done as much prodding as he will -- for now. Now the fun starts.

Fun, indeed. Abernathy taps Feste lightly on the nose -- my goodness, getting a little friendly here, are we? -- and offers him a smirk. "Oh, the usual answer. I really should learn to expect that kind of thing from you." Maintaining his hold on the rope, he circles around behind the chair and drops to one knee. Here's the fun part: Tying Feste to the chair in such a way he can't possibly get loose. Which involves grabbing the Fool's other hand and binding both his wrists together behind the back of the chair. Not *exactly* a comfortable position, but Abernathy is making some concessions to not, say, breaking Feste's arms.

Feste blinks on reflex as he's tapped on the nose. Those red optics flare briefly, casting a rather eery red glow about the Fool's face.

Now, now, got to make it exciting. Feste, when Abby starts binding his wrists, starts to struggle with them. Grr.

"Start expecting things, and I may just start giving you nasty little surprises," he comments, rather dully. Blah blah blah.

Oh ho ho. Well, Abby should have expected *that*, which he didn't. Exactly. Anyway. He grabs both of Feste's hands by the fingers with one of his, handling the rope with the other -- and throwing a loop around the Fool's wrists. He tugs the loop tight, then pins the loose end of the rope with a foot as Feste actually begins struggling. A thought about safe words and commentary thereon flicks across his mind; but he bites his tongue. *That* certainly is *not* a conversation for polite company, even when here 'polite' involves 'tying someone to a chair'.

"Ahh, well. At least I've ample warning, now. So I must expect the unexpected, and so forth, and so on." Pause. "You know, you'll give yourself a very nasty case of rope burn if you keep that up."

Curses. Outwitted by the soldier again. Of course, it helps that he can't quite see behind him.

"Or whatever," Feste murmurs. "Something like that. And yes. I knew." Apparently this does not stop him from struggling. Oh no, not at all.

"Suit yourself. I'd rather you not disappear in a bout of moping about how much your wrists hurt when we're done, however."

Abernathy picks up another loop of rope from the ground and winds it around Feste's wrists, still biting his tongue. He cinches it down thoughtfully, being sure to keep Feste's hands pinned meanwhile. Of course, the struggling is troublesome, and slows him down, but he's ... determined. Yes, that's one thing to say of Adrian.

As the loops of rope are secured around his wrists, Feste ceases struggling. Already rope-burned, but alas. Couldn't be helped. Besides, there's no need to get further ropeburned.

"There's something you're not saying," Feste observes, casually. "I can tell. What is it, pray tell?"

Abernathy smirks to himself, somewhat, at that question ... and doesn't immediately answer, instead contenting himself with actually tying Feste /to/ the chair. Handy things, backrests were, that way.

Finally, once he's content Feste will /not/ be able to move his hands, Abernathy bothers to reply. "Oh, nothing of particular import. I didn't think it pertinent to the situation." No, not at all. He removes his foot from his pile of loose rope, considering it thoughtfully. Whatever shall he do with the rest of this, hm?

"Oh, come on, then. You are tying me to a chair. It's not like I've got *anything* to do other than *talk*," Feste teases. Noting the lack of activity back there, Feste turns slightly -- as much as he can -- and hmms.

"You could tie my feet. Wouldn't want me kicking you."

"Why is it that everyone I treat even in the least as an adversary is always so *helpful*?" Abernathy mutters to himself, glancing up at Feste from under the hat. The hat -- that he's still wearing. Because it's a sexy hat. And it keeps him from sneaking up in people, in an unexpected bonus. "Yes, I could," he adds, louder, and slips around the chair to -- do just that, with the loose rope.

"And it wasn't so much a matter of, ah ... " He pauses, frowning to himself. How to explain this diplomatically. Hm, hm.

"Just keep working," Feste continues, smiling happily. "I'm just enjoying my limited remainder of time in which I can speak. Presuming that you *will* be forcing me to be silent, that is." He makes an honest effort to flip his hair over his shoulder -- just felt like he needed to (ha ha!) -- and partially succeeds. Oh look, how cute.

"Although, I would like to hear this. Come on, out with it," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

[Radio: (F) Public] Dust Man grumbles. "One coffee, large, 2 creams."

[Radio: (F) Public] Dust Man transmits, "D'oh."

[Radio: (F) Public] Dust Man click

You deactivate your radio.

You deactivate your radio intercept ability.

"Oh, and why do you assume that, hm?" Abernathy asks, gamely, while tying Feste's right leg to the chair. (what an odd sentence that is.) He does glance up as the Fool attempts an abortive hairflip -- and smirks, quite honestly, as he secures another knot. "Oh, you are /so/ cute," he murmurs, more to himself.

"Well," Feste begins, looking down at Abernathy with this absolutely cute little quizzical look, "you *aren't* just going to leave me here once you're done. Are you?" Just a tad worried.

At the 'cute' comment, Feste smirks, though still worried. "I do try. How nice that someone has finally taken the time to notice." Yes, and how nice it is that that person is MALE. Go Feste...

[OOC] Feste's player: "Biased? Me? Of course not, my poses are completely objective..."

[OOC] Abernathy dies laughing.

[OOC] Abernathy has made andruw teh ghey!!1one pwned!

Abernathy cinches the rope tight, not /trying/ to cut off Feste's circulation. No, really. It's not his intent. Even though he's sort of running out of rope as he moves to secure the Fool's other leg. Hm. "Oh, I don't know," he comments, concentrating on knotting his now significantly shorter length of rope. "I'd had a thought of gagging you so you couldn't scream for help, then tipping the chair over and hiding it somewhere. But I decided that was impolite."

He looks up, and smiles at Feste wolfishly. "Don't you agree?"

As Abernathy moves over, Feste attempts to kick out at his head. Not with the intent to actually hit him, just... y'know. Provide resistance. Because that's what he's supposed to be doing.

Gagging him, hm. "Tipping it over? How rude." Feste, of course, looks down at Abby at exactly the same time, with less of a grin on his face. No less amused, or wolfish, just less of a smile.

Abernathy leans back, surprised, as Feste lashes out with a foot, arching a brow curiously at that. "Oh, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" he comments. No, he doesn't sound like Steve Irwin. ha ha ha. "Yes, tipping it over. Because I'm just /that/ much of a bastard." Grin!

Then he pauses, considering -- before making to snag Feste's ankle and pin his leg against the leg of the chair. We must do a neat job of this and make sure he's /really/ tied down, before the fun begins!

So much for that, oh well. "Oh, yes indeed, you are," Feste says, amiably. "And of course, I must beg you not to leave me tied to the damn chair. It isn't nice." He pauses, fixing an eye on Abernathy. "And I'll /tell/."

"And you know how much I enjoy begging." Abernathy ties off the last of the rope. Feste is now officially tied to a chair(tm). Abby therefore leans back, still resting on one knee, and glances up at the Fool, resting one forearm against his raised knee. "Tell? Oh, no. I'm afraid you won't be able to."

He gets up, dusting off the knees of his slacks, and ambles around behind Feste once more. And, reaching into his coat, he produces -- a roll of duct tape. Pulling off a sizeable strip, he puts his teeth to the use God meant them for, ie, starting a cut in a strip of duct tape without a knife or scissors on hand. Mm, duct tape.

The Fool -- the poor fool! -- knits his eyebrows at Abernathy. Bwuh? Won't...be.. able to...

"Oh, bloody hell," Feste mutters, irritated. "Not the duct tape..."

It's then that he fully realizes that he is, in fact, tied to a chair. And cannot prevent the duct tape. Of course, it is FAR TOO LATE.

YOU LOSE, FESTE. YOU LOSE.

Abernathy makes a face as he finishes biting a sizeable tear in the duct tape. Eww. Then he rips off a strip of it and tucks the roll under one arm, before stretching it out between his hands. "I see you've had experience with this before," he notes.

Feste offers a noncommittal grunt in response, as he mentally prepares himself for having his mouth duct-taped shut.

(Note to self: never agree to this sort of thing again.)o.

Teehee. Abernathy isn't mean enough, however, to duct tape Feste's hair to his face, and so leans forward to brush the Fool's bangs out of the way, before, yes, duct-taping his mouth shut. How fun.

"Why, thank you," Feste says. Or he WOULD say, but he's got duct tape over his mouth, so it just comes out as a muffled 'mmf mmf mu'.

Abernathy smiles slightly to himself at the Fool's muffled thanks. At least, he's presuming that's thanks. Maybe it's not. Whatever. He strides around the chair, and tied-up Fool, to retrieve a convenient seat for himself. In this case, an abandoned milk crate. Picking it up, he carries it over and deposits it right before the Fool's tied-up feet -- and takes a seat on it, leaning forward with elbows resting on knees and fingers interlaced before him.

"So, I have to suppose you're wondering why I went through all this trouble to run you down and tie you up."

Happily tied to a chair and duct-taped silent, Feste is left at the mercy of his captor. He's not *quite* so happy any more, either. Kind of hard to be, when you're, er, tied to a chair.

His face is left rather expressionless without that smile, and his 'eyes' are of course doubly so. It was one of the reasons he'd replaced them in the first place -- they'd be unreadable. Completely unreadable. And mystErious, oooh.

As Abby speaks again, Feste look upward in a half-eyeroll, and nods. Well, /duh/.

Feste could just be glad Abernathy hadn't taken the optional course on how to torture one's hostages. ... Err. Right, moving on. Abernathy smirks at Feste's impatient look; this was, after all, his reasoning for actually tying the Fool up! That, and getting him to actually shut up for a little while, and it was all worth it.

"I admit, part of it was worth seeing how you'd react to the indignity," he murmurs, thoughtfully. "Although, I'd also wanted to, ah, apologize. Without you being able to interrupt."

Feste blinks, a deliberate, intended blink. Y'know, since he can't TALK.

Is that *so*, thinks the Fool. Well. He must remember to... something. Perhaps that something is to start taking Adrian at his word, or perhaps it is to talk less in the future. Hm.

Hey, it's communication. Abby smirks slightly, shifting to rest an elbow on his thigh and lean his chin on his fisted hand. "Thus the necessity for running you down and tying you up." How ecliptic. Well, it's Abernathy -- what could you really expect? "Either way. Seeing as today is my birthday -- " BEHOLD THE MAGIC OF AUTHORIAL TIMEWARP -- "I'd figured to, mm. Start my twenty fourth year off correctly. With a clean slate, so to speak."

Is he actually being shy? No, that's probably his normal pussyfooting around uncomfortable topics.

Oh dear Lord, it's his *birthday*? Feste blinks rapidly, still amused. Too bad that ducttape prevents him from smiling. And also from saying anything. What torture.

Cocking his head slightly to the side, Feste awaits this supposed apology. Yes, yes, go on...?

Yes, it's Abernathy's birthday. He's all of, ah, twenty-three. How cute, hm? In retrospect, perhaps tying Feste up and gagging him was not the best idea; at least, if this had been one of their normal conversations, he could have avoided the point indefinitely without looking sheepish. As it is, the onus of not sitting there stupidly in total silence sort of falls to him. Realizing this, he pauses for a moment -- merely watching the Fool -- then gives a slight shake of his head and continues.

"So, an ... an apology. First, and most literally, for harming you physically. That wasn't my intent, and ... ah. I got out of hand. I'm sorry for the pain and distress that caused."

Oh ho ho. And here he hadn't been intending to apologize for that at all; how the man can make a turn-around when he thinks too long about this kind of thing.

Feste might have bit his lip had it not been prohibited by the duct tape, but alas. Instead, Feste quirks an eyebrow. Hey, he's stumbling over it, that means something.

The Fool inclines his head slightly, looking Abernathy straight in the eye -- c'mon. Get to the point... stop dancing around it.

Oops. Well, Abernathy's not going to meet Feste's gaze -- seems our dear, brash Director is actually being *shy* for once in his life. He does glance up momentarily, but just as quickly looks down again. Oh, look. His boots. They're nice and neutral; he can contemplate them. "The rest is ... considerably more ephemeral. I may just be, be paranoid about it." Another glance up, as if to reassure himself that Feste's still listening.

Something about that brief locking of eyes does seem to firm Abernathy's resolve, however. He doesn't look down again, though he does take a steadying breath. "But if I'm being too -- forward about things, I feel I must apologize for that. And for ... hounding you, as well." An uncertain silence follows those words.

Feste makes a point of attempting to clear his throat -- a muffled 'aHEM'. Hounding /me/? More like I hounded *you*. Gave you hell, as you put it -- the thought almost brings a sneer to his face. Brought you hell. Can't play nicely, can we, can we...

Oh yes. He is listening...

Abernathy does arch a brow at that rather pointed noise. "Want me to rip the duct tape off now?" he inquires, innocently. With the threat of even that mild violence, his confidence seems to return. Just a little bit.

Feste narrows his eyes. Yooou /wouldn't/. He sags just a bit in his chair, as if backing up. Hiss.

Abernathy smiles faintly at that. "You'll have to get it off some way or another. I'd think your profits would suffer considerably if I untied you and just let you walk around like that." He leans forward again, once more interlacing his fingers before him, and adds, dryly, "And it's that, or pull it off slowly." Yes, ha ha. He'll apologize for harassing Feste, after having put him in a situation that involves even MORE harassment.

Feste pointedly rolls his eyes. Fine, fine, get on with it...

"Your choice," Abernathy replies pointedly, getting up off the milk crate. "If you'd rather I go find a bottle of solvent or something ... "

Feste's eyes widen slightly. A shake of his head, an attempted sigh -- for crissakes just DO IT ALREADY.

As if reading that particularly emphatic thought, Abby leans in, snags a hold of one edge of the duct tape -- and rips it off. Yes. Ow. Poor Feste. Buuut -- perhaps before the full shock of OW HOLY HELL DUCT TAPE OFF FACE OW OW can register on the Fool's mind, Abernathy leans in and ... steals another kiss. "And I'm sorry for that, too," he murmurs, after terminating the contact. "But I'd forgotten the handkerchiefs at home."

OW OW OW DAMMIT arr-- ...ooh?

Poor Feste -- and what an odd kiss. Hmmm. The Fool's eyes widen slightly, just from the duct tape being RIPPED OFF, but then... another stolen kiss. So very curious, this Abernathy. It only confirms Feste's suspicions further. (hohoho)

He'd reciprocate, too, were he not tied to a chair. Or so he finds. Curious, that. But is it truth, the Fool must ask, or is it just another joke?

"You owe me," is the only answer for now. Hmmm.

Wadding up the discard duct tape in one hand, Abernathy leans back, just a little, and favors the Fool with another of those odd little smirks. Tsk. The truth? Feste should've learned by now that Abby's always truthful, even if he's got a particularly odd sense of humor when it comes down to it. "I'd figured. You'll need to catch me to collect, however."