Logfile from M3
{radio spam edited out}
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Boo!"
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Hm? {completely misses the point} ...what is the meaning of this... buh?"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "...boo?"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "*sounds as though he may be flailing his arms despite the fact he's far away* It's Halloween!"
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Ahh, the 31st, with the dressing up and the excessive amounts of sugar? I like the sugar part, and I managed to cobble together something modeled off an old picture book chaaracter I found funny, but the buuh sound thing just confuses me..."
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Oh yes? Excellent!"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "*hm. His words are just a *little* slurred and careless.* Nonono, it's 'boo', say it with me. 'Boo'."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "You sould a tad bit off Feste, are you fully functional? *a pause* Hmm... ...boo?"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Of /course/ I'm fully functional, sah. Why wouldn't I be? And yes! There you have it! 'Boo'. Very good, I'm proud of you."
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Now! Have you a costume?"
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Indeed I do. I had t o be shown a bit of things, like that sewing thing, but I seem to be good at that too. Interesting enough... though the needles don't distinguizh between flesh and leather."
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "...nope. Someone ought to fix that."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Indeed. I made sure not to sew my hand anymore after that, the thread's too rough to pull out easily I found, but I have my costume all fine and well."
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Good, good. Let's go do something, it's bloody Halloween."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Truth be told though, I feel a tad bit guilty over deciding not to cut my hair... but I don't like the hairstyle the other character has."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Is bloody holloween any different from normal holloween?"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "What?"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "No. It's -- it's an expression. 'Bloody'. Like 'damn'."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Wait... ...oh... I remember now. Well, not remember remember, but the other remember, the before remember... ...it's rather hard to describe."
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "...whatever."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "...? [it's silence, but as alaways, he hides his confusion the worst when he's no longer speaking]"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Er. Seriously. Let's go--go trick-or-treating or something."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Indeed. Then you must show me whatever it is you have been eating, drinking or otherwise taking in, because I want some."
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "*laughs* It's liqueur. I'll ask Evan if she'll give you some."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "I'm only chronologically underage you know. I have a fully adult body."
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "*chuckles* Sure y'are."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "What? I am!"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Uhuh. Look,
meet me in
The Plague Rat [TPR](#615Ten)
The inside of the Plague Rat is not nearly so intimidating as the outside might be. It's a warm, slightly smoky place, and it looks a lot smaller than it actually is. Quite cozy, too.
Like the typical 20th century English pub, the Rat seems to have a central theme of dark-stained wood and brass railings. The bar itself is a deep mahogany color, with stools of the same color lined up in front of it. Tables leave not so much room on the center floor, and what wallspace there is is taken up by semi-private booths.
All in all,
it's very comfortable, if not a bit hazy. The walls are covered with different
portraits and artifacts of Ye Olde
Obvious exits:
Out [O] leads to
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "As you command me, nyeheh."
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Boo! *cackle*"
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "And a happy All Hallows Eve to you, too."
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*slightly...tipsy, perhaps?* What are /you/ going as, hmm?"
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "'m in the Plague Rat. Y'better get here fast before it fills up."
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Oh, don't worry, I am coming. Just had to change the bandages on my hand."
[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Er, wait, you do know where that is, don't you?"
[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "No, but then, I've not been to about ninety eight percent of the world and I find my way just fine anyhow..."
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "A ghost. I don't need to use any makeup."
Hien has arrived.
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*giggles* Are you going to put a sheet over your head?"
Feste, in full armor, is leaning on the counter, speaking to a red-haired woman dressed like a witch. They seem to know each other well, and besides that, sharing a drink. Hmm hm!
Other than the two, the goths that inhabit the place are huddled even more closely in their corner. Halloween, aughaughgaguh. They're only here because their parents wouldn't let them cut the heads off of chickens. Yeah. Really.
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "[amused] Maybe. Are you drunk?"
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Just a little, I promise."
Ahh, another goth! Though admittedly a cut above the rest, he's dressed as, perhaps, one of the better known and less understood (yeah right) of their number, a quaint little figure, a stalking black maned lion in a knot of surly half soaked housecats. The outfit, despite the utter lack of scrawny about him seems to be struggling to make him look tiny and unassuming, and, lemme tell you, that hairstyle with him looks very tasty, though the illusion is a tad bit shattered by the down-to-the-arse level black hair that still hangs behind the black leather trench.
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Figures. Having fun?"
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "If not now, then I wll be soon! *cackle*"
{this is what they're going as:
Hien
http://members.tripod.com/~npics/nnygall/jnoise.gif
This young man has a strangely sculpted look to him, like he were carved from a single block of marble. Standing six feet tall, he has a spry and sprightly bearing, his movements swift, eager, and full of energy. His young face has sharp features and is crossed with a faint smile more often than not, and his pale blue eyes burn with intensity... gaze darting to and fro, mindful of everything in the world around him, as though he were fascinated by even the most mundane details. His skin is pale, smooth and flawless... not even the smallest scar, blemish or wrinkle to be seen, helping accentuate his carved, statuesque appearance. In contrast with his pale skin, his hair is a dark, raven black, though the long, flowing ponytail is downplayed by the wild, spiked mass of black hair hanging haphazardly in his face and over his ears; although he hadn't cut his hair, it was still carefully sculpted into the look of what he'd wanted, and served its purpose if you were to overlook the trailing tail of raven black.
He's dressed up in, well, a rather unique little outfit. A simple striped shirt, long enough to hang between his legs like a tunic and with long black sleeves, (his arms ending in a pair of rather ragged, fingerless black gloves), modeled with an equally simple box in the center with an equally simple a rather minimalistic statement of 'WHY ARE YOU HERE?'(http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Nebula/7340/killdead.jpg) in blocky script is half mantled by a flowing, slimming trenchcoat. It's not too heavy, in fact the entire outfit seems to breathe an air of the willowy and almost stealthed level unassuming into the figure, rendering the typically vibrant figure an aura of the incongruent, a natural drifting away from attention.
http://members.tripod.com/~npics/nnygall/nnysam1.gif
He wears a simple, tight, thin pair of faded thickly striped pants and, to high thigh level a pair of heavily buckled, black leather shoes, steel tipped on the outside and inside with an almost cloven split to them and basically one of the main points to the outfit. The only other thing being a rather nondescript backpack hanging from one shoulder.
Slim, goth, rakish and unassumingly dressed, he's Nny, he's dressed in black leather. Say hello to everyone's favorite little serial killer.
Feste(#3650POenAC)
Like far too many other people across the world, this jokester is all dressed up for Halloween. Standing at 6'5", he cuts a rather impressive figure in shiny plate armor, amply outfitted with vicious spikes on the pauldrons and gauntlets. It has a black cast to it, lending a bit more to the intimidating figure. He doesn't seem to be particularly hindered by it; perhaps it's made of some wonderful lightweight space age metal.
He lacks a proper helmet, allowing his face to show and hair to cascade over the back of the armor. He's blond and long-haired; that is probably the feature that stands out the most. His face is rather ovallish, a little on the thin side, belying a Scandinavian origin. His eyes, which seem as though they ought to be green or blue, are in fact red, pupilless optics. Eerie.
Other than the armor -- full plate -- he carries a sword and a standard on a tall pole. Six feet long and a foot and a half wide, the standard is a pure white with golden fringe, dotted with golden fleur-de-lys. The words 'Jhesus Maria' appear on both sides. On one side also appears a picture of two angels surrounding the Lord; and opposite it is a blue shield with a dove and the words 'De par le Roy di Ciel'. Hm.}
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Fair enough."
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Why don't you come with us?"
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "It'll be fun!"
You save your current description as 'La Hire.'
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "... Hm."
The goths in the corner glare at this fellow who has DARED to go as Nny and look Very Sexy whilst doing it. Mostly because they wanted to and couldn't manage it.
Feste, meanwhile, throws his head back and laughs at something the red-haired witch has just said. She crosses her arms and glares back. Evidently it was not something he should have laughed at. "You never /have/ been able to hold your liquor, have you?" she snaps.
Feste simply grins it off. "At least I'm a happy drunk, right?" he replies, cackling. It's then that he turns around and notices Hien... and stares. After a few seconds of staring, he throws back his head and laughs once more. "Excellent! Excellent!"
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Pleeease?"
Flicking the trench back, Hien notices the stare, oh yes. He rather likes it in the 'well, looks like I still have hope' sorta way XD and idly strolls over, boots clompclompclomping idly. Normally he moves silently, but a bit of clunking is fun in the right shoes, and these are doozies. They're also handmade and flawlessly so. Being a genetically recombined freak had its benefits.
Step step pause, he stops before Feste, a big wide rather suggestive grin wearing his face; a finger lifts, drifting over F's chin, and the redhead (who he's not jealous of, not at all ].]) gets a warm, appreciative smile.
"Mind if I try holding a bit of liquor? Don't listen to him, he's silly, and I'm obviously not underaged, no matter what he told you." Johnny boot to the shin, though light enough to barely brush Feste's leg; a playful warning. And to her? Another damn nice smile. :)
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "... Perhaps. Give me a minute or two."
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "*happily* Excellent!"
Feste-La Hire chuckles dumbly -- yes, such a thing is possible -- as Hien's finger comes drifting across his face.
The redhead views this with...suspicion, and narrowed eyes. Feste has not been telling her something. She smiles back at Johnny, though -- wouldn't want to be rude, and he IS rather cute (for a goth).
She looks at the bottle of liqueur sitting on the counter, then at Hien, then back to the bottle... "Oh, bloody hell," quoth she, "I don't see why not. He a friend o'yours?" she continues, handing the bottle to Hien and aiming the question at Feste.
Feste 'ow's quietly at the boot to the shin. "Oo, he isn't anywhere CLOSE to twenty-one," he remarks idly, but Evan's not listening anyway...
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "'ow about we come pick you up, eh?"
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "... Why not?"
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Righty-o. Be there in five... fifteen... oh, I don't know. We'll get there eventually."
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Uh, where will you be?"
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "[sing-songs] Around. Try the plaza."
"I /am/ over 21." Days, but who's counting? He turns, idly leaning against the bar and snickering softly. To the redhead, Hien comments softly. "Truth be told, since my dad is gone, he's the only friend I have in the world." Oddly true, but something that brought a smile to his face, that he had him at all. He smiles, recieving a glass of the rather pleasant, amberishly hued liquid and grinning. Whee!
Sniff. Whoo, grin went away. What the hell is this stuff? He just pauses... ...and, like everything else he's ever done, goes 100 percent, and drinks it without stopping, pausing thoughtfully.
"Hmm. My body burns in new and interesting ways..." Said, of course, in a conversational, thoughtful tone, without a hint of roughness.
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Oh, ja, okay."
{his player has to leave sooo:}
Hien's eyes roll up in his head. Whoo, he's unconscious! Take advantage of him, you know you want to ;D
"Oh God," Evan replies, facepalming. "Are you corrupting youth again, Feste?"
La Hire cackles quietly, downing the last of his small glass. "I swear I'm not, really, he corrupted himse--" Both turn and stare as Hien drowns himself in liqueur and promptly passes out.
La Hire blinks. Blinks. "Right, well, I'll be back later to pick him up when he comes to!" And then he FLEES.
Evan blinks at Hien. Blinks at La Hire. Sighs quietly. "They just HAD to do this AND leave me without alcohol," she mutters, slipping back behind the counter. Time to get to work!
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Mm, I lost my date. Damn."
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "That'll learn -him- to drink the whole bottle of liqueur and not leave any for the rest of us!"
[Radio] Abernathy sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Oh /really/."
[Radio] You send Abernathy a direct message: "Really! The cad!"
{F goes to Seoul.}
You enter the Seoul - United Nations Plaza.
Seoul - United Nations Plaza
It is here that most of the world's decisions are made. The kind of power here reflects in the architecture, with the HUGE UN building that holds the General Assembly. Blue and dome shaped in design, it is the only one in the world of its kind, and workplace to the thousands that work here. The perimeter of the General Assembly building is surrounded the flags of every country that has a seat, which is nearly everyone. Outside are a number of other large office buildings, ranging from delegate bureau's, to the Headquarters of the UN Police, to a Repliforce office. Constantly patrolled and guarded by UN Police, safety is among an utmost concern after the infamous April Fools Day Massacre. Despite that, the place is a very safe environment.
Contents: Contents:
Abernathy [Noh Face] [C]
United Nations Vehicle Garages [UNVG] Press Stand
[UN]: United Nations Building
East [E]: Seoul - Northern Commercial District
West [W]: Seoul - Tourist District
South [S]: Seoul - Historical District
North [N]: Seoul - Eastern Residential District
It is very dark here. You might get eaten by a Noh Face.
LA HIRE CANNOT BE EATEN!
Decked out his plate and carrying both standard and greatsword, La Hire (otherwise known as Feste) approaches the Plaza. A strap hangs on his shoulder, attached to a cloth bag. This would be for collection of victuals otherwise known as CANDY. He is, unfortunately, alone. But this does not stop La Hire! Oh no!
The knight hefts his standard and charges onto the Plaza. "TOUR OU CADEAU!"
You'd better be glad the guards were expecting trick or treaters. That could get someone killed on any other day of the year. As it is, it spooks a few of the less hardened new recruits. But all they give Feste are dirty looks, and no candy at all.
Something, however, has taken it in mind to stalk our brave La Hire. A little distortion in the air seems to turn and go sauntering after the charging, armored Fool. Oh ho ho.
Portal has arrived.
Poor La Hire. He is being glared at. The knight comes to a stop somewhere in the middle of the Plaza and turns to glare right back at the guards. "Je ne pas aimer a vous!" he cries, pointing at said guards. The joys of French. "Vous donnez-moi la sucrerie ou je déshonorerai vos mères belges! Je suis LA HIRE!"
Chill Snowcat arrives from the Seoul - Tourist District.
Chill Snowcat has arrived.
It's been an odd day. London treated Portal to saving Lifesaver's life from his inner and outer demons. Then, he piloted a Heavy Transport home solo, and so he is just a bit tired as he exits the United Nations Vehicle Garage area. The yelling starts to pierce his inner thinking, and the calming-down-from-pissed Reploid looks up.
"/And/ you're also insane. Did anyone ever tell you that?" a voice -- suspiciously familiar -- whispers from over the Fool's shoulder. The little shimmer in the air distorts slightly, dissolving into a black-cloaked figure with a Noh mask where the face should be. "You're lucky they haven't shot you yet."
"C'est rien que de la merde! Those English dogs have been lying to you, mon beau directeur!" La Hire answers, whirling around. Surprised? Absolutely not! That is why he continues shouting at the top of his lungs, of course.
"Besides," he adds, in a non-French-accented tone of voice, "if they want to shoot me, they have to get through you first." Zing! goes the knight, hiding behind the Noh Face.
Oh no, NOT this stupid crap. Not right now. Portal is once more PISSED. Walking forward, he shakes his head. "You nutcases never cease. First I have to pull a respected ally out of a FIELD of you cretins, and now you're walking around here." The red cross is still on his back, but Portal likely doesn't need it. "You've got about one minute to leave before I take out some serious frustrations."
[Radio: (F) Public] Guts Man transmits, "Trick or treat?"
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "I wonder if Frost finished raiding the World of Candies.."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Tour ou cadeau!"
If the Noh Face were capable of looking annoyed, it probably would. As it is, it turns its masklike face toward the approaching Portal, and utters a breathy, half-amused laugh. "I would say," it says, very quietly. "That now would be a good time to leave, dear Fool." What, break the role long enough to TELL PORTAL OFF? ... Never; that would be unsporting.
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Most potent is the effervescent language of the Francais."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "But of course!"
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste is, in fact, effecting a French accent tonight. "Certainly much better than that of the English dogs! So says La Hire!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Shade Man transmits, "...Mmmm... what a terrible night to have a Curse... ...And what a perfect time for a Bite."
[Radio: (F) Public] Guts Man transmits, "Ho ho ho ho!"
But La Hire does not need to break character to tell Portal off! Oh no, not at all!
The 'Frenchman''s head peeks out from behind the Noh Face. As soon as he sights Portal, Feste-La Hire sneers. "Nutcase? *YOU* are a nutcase! Vas pisser dans las fleurs, chien anglais!" he growls, loud enough to be heard from aaaall the way over there quite clearly. Evidently he will not be leaving soon enough. "Un cadeau, tout de suite!"
Portal blinks. "You did NOT just tell me to go piss on some flowers. I know you did NOT just say that." Sick of crazy people and their crazy ways, Portal steps forward and attempts to grab the 'Frenchman' by the arm. "It's time for you to leave."
Chill Snowcat has left.
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "...We should nuke France."
[Radio: (F) Public] Skull Man transmits, "But they already surrendered preemptively."
[Radio: (F) Public] Skull Man transmits, "They're never fun, pansies."
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "More of a reason, then."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "I protest!"
This would be what the Noh Face is here for. With one half-concealed hand, it reaches up to pull its mask back -- and steps between Portal and Feste.
"That will be quite enough, agent," Abernathy remarks, dryly. "He might be insane, but he's with me ... for the moment."
Abernathy strikes Portal with his Grasp attack.
[Radio: (F) Public] Skull Man transmits, "Eh, nukings not that fun."
[Radio: (F) Public] Skull Man transmits, "All that death at once? Pfft."
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Well, it's DOES make a pretty keen explosion."
[Radio: (F) Public] Skull Man transmits, "It's more demoralizing for gradual death. True on that point, Cut."
"Allez a enfer!" La Hire snaps, ducking back behind the Noh Face as Portal tries to grab him. He's reasonably quick on his feet, and so's the Director.
Smirking petulantly as Portal's EVIL PLAN is FOILED, Feste reaches into his loot-bag, draws a few pieces of candy out, and flings them around Abby at Portal.
Insane? Feste? Nah. Just really, really bored.
You miss Portal with your Grasp attack.
Looking down at Abernathy, he shakes his head, and raises his palm up. He isn't doing anything else visually, but who knows, maybe he's summoning some sort of all-power anti-candy demon to anti-candy Feste until he has no more candy and can't get any more! Or maybe his player is trying to make a pose bigger with inane humor.
Portal sends a radio transmission.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission from Portal.
You intercept Portal's transmission to Abernathy: I am not in the mood to deal with more 'trick or treaters', Director...
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "A protest?"
Abernathy sends a radio transmission to Portal.
Portal receives a radio transmission from Abernathy.
You intercept Abernathy's transmission to Portal: Reasonably. Go back to what you were doing, agent; I'll handle this myself.
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Oui! But just a little one!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "I will hear this protest."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "La Hire does not think you should nuke France!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "...yes. But why not? No one of interest is there now."
[Radio: (F) Public] Metal Man sings. "Ragged they come and ragged they kill...
Despite the armor the Fool is wearing, Abernathy-Noh Face tucks his mask under one arm, steps back -- and elbows the other man in the ribs. "Stop that," he snaps, in rebuke. "Or I may be tempted to simply /arrest/ you, and that would ruin your night, wouldn't it?"
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Perhaps no /one/, but places, oui!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Like?"
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste deadpans. "Like, France."
Portal sends a radio transmission to Abernathy.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission.
You intercept Portal's transmission to Abernathy: Alright. I was headed to a late lunch. It's been too hard of a day.
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Yes, we know that. But what there IS in France?"
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Histoire!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Like?"
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "We'll leave the Maginot Line alone, we promise."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Like /La Hire/!"
Abernathy sends a radio transmission.
Portal receives a radio transmission from Abernathy.
You intercept Abernathy's transmission to Portal: Hah. Tell me about it, and take the rest of the evening off, if you need it.
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "But we should blast the Eiffel Tower fast. We all know it's actualy a disguised Missile Silo."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Bien sûr! Do away with the ugly thing!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Skull Man transmits, "Either that, or France is compensating for something."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Aha, you are so funny, sir."
Frequency cleared.
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "I am not convinced."
La Hire is elbowed in the ribs! Oh no!
"Oui, /mère/," Feste murmurs, slipping away. He turns his back on Portal and simply... walks away, standard lifted high, bag only less filled than it was when he got there. Damn you miserly Interpolers!
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "So, Commander."
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Should we nuke it slow, or go in a giant blaze of glory?"
[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Doppler transmits, "The Eiffel tower makes a very nice radio transmission tower."
[Radio: (F) Public] Skull Man transmits, "Mmm, a Mav-O-Lantern for every boy and girl in the world."
[Radio: (F) Public] Skull Man transmits, "Eeeexcellent."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "There are cathedrals I have yet to see, châteaus I have not clapped eyes on. It would be a shame if they were to be atomized."
Portal turns and walks out too, rubbing the back of his head. "Too odd a day... I hate Halloween." His black hair catches a bit of wind and the medical Reploid is soon out of sight, headed for a warm restaurant and an even warmer meal.
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "But of course you are not convinced."
Portal sends a radio transmission to Abernathy.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission.
You intercept Portal's transmission to Abernathy: Aye, sir. Off-duty.
Portal enters the Seoul - Tourist District.
Portal has left.
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "You are a not a man who enjoys the old stone buildings of Feudal Europe, are you."
[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Doppler transmits, "I have been to France on numerous occasions. You won't miss much."
[Radio: (F) Public] Guts Man transmits, "We all know the Eiffel tower is a giant missile silo for the world's last nuke."
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "I saide that, Guts."
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Dirty France. They actualy waiting for the right time to fire that nuke!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Metal Man transmits, "Yes but they will fail!"
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Tch!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Metal Man transmits, "They always lose in war"
Once he's sure /that/ little situation is defused, Abernathy puts the mask back on, resettles the cloak around his body, and starts after Feste silently. It's a little unnerving how quiet he's being. That's a Noh Face for you, though.
That's okay. La Hire will offset this!
"So, mon beau homme, where shall we go first?" he asks as he leads the way.
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "I can appreciate architecture. I mean it no ill will."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "That is good."
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "But if it stands in my way...".
[Radio: (F) Public] Guts Man transmits, "Destroy it!"
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "That is not good."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Please do not walk around any of the precious buildings of France!"
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "Give me a map and a suitable incentive not to."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "La Hire will be pleased! Is this not incentive enough?"
[Radio: (F) Public] Bass transmits, "Anyone who speaks to themselves in the Third Person is already a sinner in my eyes."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste sniffs. "I only do it on Halloween."
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Eh."
[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "That's nice."
[Radio: (F) Public] La Hire: Feste transmits, "Isn't it?"
{we go to find someone to trick-or-treat. Bowie is our poor victim.}
[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Boo!"
[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Huh?"
[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Boo!"
[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "Tour ou cadeau, chien anglais!"
[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Ah don't speak French."
[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "That is your loss! La Hire demands to know where you reside, that he might come and partake in the traditions of Halloween!"
[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "MAh home's not much t'look at."
[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "L'apparence de vos château is not of concern to La Hire!"
[Radio] Bowie sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "*sigh* Fine. It's [an address in Moscow's Business District. Odd.]"
[Radio] You send Bowie a direct message: "La Hire is pleased! *Strangely -- or perhaps not -- Feste's a little careless. Slurring his words slightly.*"
Abernathy
Somebody's dressed up for Halloween.
All that can be seen of whoever-it-is, however, is a roughly humanoid shape in a full-length black cloak. A foot or so above the ground, through the magic of holograms, the cloak seems to dissolve into nothingness.
The black outfit is mostly featureless, seamless, hiding who or whatever it is. In place of a face, though, the creature has the stark white oval of a Noh mask, painted mouth set in the smallest of smiles.
It's a Noh Face!
{we go to Moscow!}
You enter the Moscow - Business District.
Moscow - Business District
Beautiful Moscow. In many years of history, through communisim, depression; monarchies and anarchy, it has remained the same. The architecture of old blends with the conveniencies of modern technology, especially in this district of *gasp* capitalism! Gone are the old food lines where one would have to wait hours for a single loaf of bread. No longer does one have to worry about street thugs and dealers of the old Russian mafia. This is a thriving economy, bustling with with activity and the charm of old.
Contents: Contents:
Bowie [Rifleman] [MH]
Small Laboratory [SL]
South [S]: Moscow - Historical District
East [E]: Moscow - Northern Downtown
Abernathy arrives from the Moscow - Northern Downtown.
Abernathy has arrived.
The address provided to the Fool leads to a older brick office building that's seen better days. A rather odd place to call home, but probably not the strangest abode on the planet. Though it's hard to discern through the tinted windows, it appears that there are indeed lights on.
And so the Fool does come swaggering down the road, Noh Face following behind (assumedly), with seemingly nary a care in the world. Except, perhaps, acquisition of candy. Having acquired a bag expressly for this purpose, La Hire is focused. It also helps that he's a little tipsy at the moment. Which is probably why he's out here in the first place. Right.
He leads onward, straight up to the glass door of Kalinka and Bowie's shared space, and raps on the doorframe with his gauntlet. (yes. he is knocking on a glass door.) KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
And the Noh Face follows, like the polite little masked shadow it is. It slips up beside La Hire, tilting its face toward the door incuriously and remaining silent. That's what Noh Faces were for, after all.
The door is answered rather quickly. This company (or at least half of it) was expected. Light and warmth spill out into the chilly Moscow street as Bowie opens the door. For those keeping track of such things, his hair is once again long and left unbound, and he is at least making some attempt at a smile.
"Tour ou cadeau!" says Feste-La Hire, in lieu of any sort of greeting. He holds out his bag and lifts his head up high, in an attempt to be as arrogant as possible. And fails, as he can't help but break into a grin. Oops.
The Noh Face looks toward Bowie, giving him a polite -- if equally silent -- nod. It looks like it isn't actually here for the treats; just to make sure Feste doesn't get himself KILLED while trick-or-treating in a DRUNKEN STUPOR.
Bowie admittedly had to do some scrounging for treats, but hopefully a handful of lemon drops will be an acceptable offering. Said candies are dropped into the bag. "Nice costumes."
La Hire watches the drops fall into the bag with perhaps more interest than normal. Hm! It is acceptable. "Merci beaucoup!"
He's just about to turn away and let the Noh Face get something if he wants, when... he stops, and looks back at Bowie. The 'Frenchman' pauses, merely peering at the Texan for a moment. "Pourquoi la grimace?"
The Noh Face does not approach to try its luck with getting candy of its own. It's actually more interested in the answer to Feste's question -- /and/ it can always steal a couple of handfuls of candy from the Fool later. If it decides that it wants any.
Bowie looks absolutely blank at the words spoken by the French Knight. "Beg pardon?" he asks in Texan-accented English.
"Pourquoi! la! grimace!" repeats La Hire, emphasizing with a free hand. "Why the long face?"
Bowie suspects that the answer of none-of-your-business will not pass muster with Feste. Who knows about his masked companion. "Didn't know bein happy wus a requirement."
"Pftsh," declares the Fool, stumbling slightly over what should be a nice, clear 'pfff'. Oops. "It's Halloween. That's what the masks are -for-!"
Bowie shakes his head, the half-smile gaining a wry twist. "Ah'll be doin mah celebratin tomorrow."
Whaaat? La Hire cocks his head to the side, clearly confused. "What lunacy is this?" lunacy! lunacy! aaah!
The Noh Face's curiosity overcomes it. It straightens up a little, keeping its masked face turned toward Bowie. "...oh?" it asks, in a whisper that all but conceals any identifying traits of its voice. "And why is this?"
"Dia de los Muertos," Bowie replies. If Feste can speak in French, then there's no reason for him not to answer in Spanish.
"Un jour de les morts?" Feste repeats back, indeed in French. "'s absurd. Is there candy involved?" At least he knows what he's after!
" ... No. Mostly flowers," the Noh Face whispers in reply to La Hire. Its gaze is all for Bowie, however; the unnerving thing is that there really are no eyes in that mask. However the wearer sees ... is up for debate. If he does. "You have a lot to remember, yes?"
Priorities are priorities, Bowie supposes. That near-smile becomes a near-smirk. "Sugar candy an sweet bread, among other thangs." A nod is given to the floating mask, his expression sobering once more. "Flowers an candles, too. Even fergotten spirits need welcomin."
"Damn-- oh, never mind then." La Hire shakes his head slightly just to clear it. "Esprits. Oui. Bon homme. Gr-- d'accord. Oui." Sometimes it is just so hard to be eloquent.
The Noh Face gives a breathy little chuckle as its companion fails to be eloquent. "Forgive him," it whispers. "He's drunk." It hunches its shoulders forward slightly, reducing its apparent size. Which was difficult to determine to begin with. "A good day to observe," it continues. "More people should."
The eloquence (or lack thereof) is lost on Bowie. French is one of the languages that he's never found a reason to learn. Another nod is given to the masked one. "Thay say that the spirits a the dead come back t'visit the livin that day," he says, more for Feste's benefit than for his companion's. "A day t'remember the good times thay spent with us in this life."
"'m not drunk," protests the indignant Fool, who may not be but is certainly almost there if nothing else. "Esprits come back to visit you? One day a year?" Feste idly looks over his armored shoulder at the Noh Face.
"If *I* was an esprit I'd never leave. How fun that would be!"
Predictably, the Noh Face's expression remains exactly the same -- though its shoulders hunch a little more. Its whisper of a voice contains no trace of emotion. "I wonder if you'd get a choice in the matter." It keeps its attention on Bowie. "Even if you don't believe in their presence, it is still a wise idea to remember them. And what they died for."
"Some don't," Bowie answers. "Why do ya thank some places are haunted?"
Thus far, the gunslinger stubbornly refuses to be unnerved by the masked one. But then, considering his recent trials, a mask seemingly suspended in mid-air is fairly tame by comparison. "Too many people ferget," he agrees quietly. "As fer believin...Ah've been to El Paso."
Well. If Feste were, say, at full mental capacity, he probably would hae something to contribute to this conversation. And with any luck it might actually be /valuable/. Wow, fancy that. Oh well! "Yes, yes, good idea, oui. I should do that too. It sounds like fun." Lessee! Who does Feste know that's dead? (...hm.)
The Noh Face looks over at Feste, noting the Fool's condition without a change in its apparent demeanor. Then it looks back at Bowie. "There are explanations for everything," it whispers. "Even El Paso." It bows its head. " -- Though some of them may just simply be, 'this thing is', and there is no other question in the matter." Raising its masked face again, it adds: "Perhaps I should visit the place as well."
Bowie wonders if the Fool is referring to remembering the dead, or being a specter himself after he passes. Perhaps both, knowing him. See, Feste can be clever even when inebriated. To the masked one's words, he simply nods.
Hohoho, exactly. Although Feste meant observing the holiday, if asked, he'd say the same to the other question. The Fool idly looks at the Noh Face, catching the other's glance. Feste just sort of shrugs. yeeees? "Oh, well, maybe you should go together," he offers, just to fill the space.
"Maybe." The Noh Face bows its head. "I have other observances to make," it whispers. "Before then. But I have the time, if I take it."
Bowie considers the suggestion for a moment, then slowly nods. Given that he has no inkling of who stands behind the mask, one may or may not be surprised by his agreement. "If not this time, then another. Those spirits are still restless, an Ah don't thank thay know whut day it is."
"But you'd think if they only got the one day to do it they'd remember!" Feste interjects, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Because it is, really.
The Noh Face looks at Feste again. Then at Bowie. Then at Feste. It gives a breathy little chuckle. "We will see. Or I will, if he has a hangover."
Bowie nods once more lin lieu of a more verbal answer. The hour is late, the air is cold, and the clouds above may yet bring snow before morning. "Happy Halloween, an good evenin." Hopefully Feste (or at least his mysterious companion) is not so drunk that he misses the cue to say his good-byes and move on.
"Whatever," says La Hire to the Noh, by now ever so tired of talking. It's a lot easier to curse at people in French. Doesn't require much thinking, see. The knight shoulders his bag and hefts the standard yet again, in preparation for moving onward. "Bon veille de la Toussaint!" he says, with a clumsy nod. Woo. Mission accomplished. Sort of.
The Noh Face gives Bowie a simple nod. "Good night," it whispers, before turning to drift off after La Hire.
Bowie watches them both for a moment as they take their leave, then turns and goes back inside. The door clicks softly behind him.
{then we go back home! well, my home.}
You enter the London - Historical District.
London - Historical District
Less advanced and developed than much of the city, the Historical District is littered with museums of the past. Buildings here are retro-styled and go back several decades, even centuries in design, giving a taste of an older age when cars drove on magnetically controlled roads and didn't soar across the skies. Far less metallic, with much warmer colors, the buildings here are very friendly and less intimidating.
Contents: Contents:
The Plague Rat [TPR] Andruw Nisse's Apartment [ANA]
Bocker's [An English Pub]
London Bridge [LB]: London - Greenwich Observatory
West [W]: London - Southern Residential
North [N]: London - Eastern Residential
Abernathy arrives from the London - Southern Residential.
Abernathy has arrived.
It's certainly been an interesting night, but like all things, Halloween must come to an end.
La Hire eventually leads his Noh Face companion all the way back to London, making a few quick stops in Moscow after the one, and from there covering mostly places in the Historical District. Somewhere only minutes from Speaker's Corner and the Plague Rat, however, La Hire pauses. Where to go next? Certainly not the Rat. That would mean back to Evan and her evil plans involving liquor and possibly the passed out Hien. That would be bad business. Hm.
The Noh Face has, this whole time, trailing obediently -- and mostly silently -- after La Hire. His own personal ghost -- and guardian. Fortunately, it hasn't had to speak up again, since most of their 'stops' hadn't had people nearly as chatty -- or interested in it -- as Bowie. So it had been making a pleasant time of just drifting along, shepherding its companion as he went looking for candy.
When Feste stops, however, the Noh Face seems pressed to speak. It drifts up alongside the 'knight', tilting its masked face toward him. "Where next?" it asks, in a whisper.
With the proximity of the Corner to the Tyburn Tree, it's become a popular spot for Halloween festivities. La Hire stands paused just in sight of such, considering. Hrmm. No, he'd rather not join in. Besides, he has loot to sort, muhaha! For France!
He turns to the Noh Face, perplexed. "I dunno. I think I secured enough loot to save France this year," he replies.
"Back home?" the Noh Face asks, in a whisper. It doesn't look at the festivities; obviously, it's not all that interested in joining in, either. Then again, it's little more than a floating mask; how much fun COULD it have partying? "And we can see if you have a Maverick's ransom in candy there," it continues, a trace of amusement entering its nigh-inaudible voice.
"But they're Mavericks," says La Hire, moving forward again. He knows the area well enough. They can shortcut through the edge of Hyde Park. He heads that way. "Do they like candy?" A sigh. "I figured everyone likes candy, but I just don't know about them."
"They like genocide more," the Noh Face whispers, darkly -- as it bobs along after La Hire. "But maybe you can convince them, with enough candy. Who knows?" It glances around once with its masked face, then looks straight ahead once more, moving almost as if drifting after its companion.
The other people in the area pay very little attention to the odd pair -- they're just another two joes out for Halloween, after all. Though some -do- take note of the Noh Face. Creeeepy.
"That's bloody stupid," he murmurs back. "I'll g-I'll genocide them. With candy. Oui." The noble pseudo-Frenchman continues leading the way through a poorly lit section of the Park, just a stone's throw away from the Corner and the ongoing party. Once they get around this, they should be able to go right down the street the party was blocking.
The Noh Face is, indeed, creepy. Maybe that was the whole point of the costume -- and maybe people would think twice before messing with it, and anything it was hanging around. "I think most reploids are immune to being fed to death," it whispers, amused. Then it pauses, hunching forward slightly even as it keeps walking. " ... Are you all right?"
"Bloody Opprørers," Feste mutters quietly, having long since dropped his fake French accent. "'m drunk, you said so yourself," he continues, louder. By now they've gotten around the main knot of people. F's an efficient pathfinder.
"You were the one denying it," the Noh Face replies, still amused. It shifts a little, with a rustle of cloth, and continues: "And we'll ... deal with the Mavericks." And it won't involve candy, the tone in that whispery, frail voice seems to say.
"Faen det," declares the Fool. The joys of Norwegian. "I am rather enjoying it, anyway." Funny, he doesn't seem to be at the moment. He's reached the street once more, and is continuing right past the turn for the Plague Rat.
The Noh Face takes notice of this, but doesn't comment -- though it does turn its masked head to gaze down the alleyway that leads to the little hole-in-the-wall. "You sound like it." Is there an edge of sarcasm to the whisper? Quite probably, yes.
La Hire just keeps on a-walkin', with no signs of stopping. "Oh yes? Well, I'm just a little tired, I s-suppose. This armor's unwe-unwieldly." Talking is hard too.
The Noh Face becomes quite intent as La Hire's speech begins to degenerate. It moves in a little closer to its companion, as if anticipating having to suddenly lend a shoulder if he should start wobbling. "That, I thought, was the point of armor," it whispers.
Abernathy receives a radio transmission.
You intercept Colonel's transmission to Abernathy: Director General, when would be a good time to talk?
"I don't get it," answers the Fool, pausing momentarily to cast his gaze skyward. He really doesn't. Hhhh? He redirects his attention shortly, however, and keeps going.
The Noh Face gives a whispery laugh. "It makes a really impressive display," it comments, sidling a little closer to La Hire. Almost touching with an invisible shoulder, now. "But I don't think it's ... practical." It tilts its mask-face toward him. "Not for your style of fighting."
"Meh." La Hire mostly keeps his gaze trained on the path ahead even as the Noh gets closer. "Takk. And it isn't, really, 'less you're gonna hit me with a sword or something. Or a stick."
"I'll think about it. How far are we?" The Noh Face, obviously, isn't quite sure as to where they are. It was that short cut; it got the poor spirit confused. "And can you still walk straight?"
"I don't need to walk straight. This is London. You're allowed to walk in swirly lines," he answers, words becoming more and more careless. Stupid English and their stupid language. Why can't Norwegian be the standard language or whatever? It'd be so much easier for everyone (if feste == everyone). "Not very much longer."
"And drive on the wrong side of the road." The Noh Face doesn't need to be told twice -- and it reaches up, pulling its mask off and shoving back the hood of its cloak. Then Abby runs a hand over his face, and glances over at Feste with a game little smile. He tucks the mask back under one arm. "Fair enough," he continues. "Let's get there in one piece, shall we?"
"It's only wrong if you get caught," Feste reflects, looking towards Abby even though his eyes are closed for the moment. Silly Fool. He opens them, and briefly squints. "You look like a raccoon."
Fortunately, the two really don't have much further to walk. Feste finally turns in the general direction of his flat. Yay.
"Hush," Abernathy rebukes quietly -- though he scrubs at his face once more, and makes a quiet 'mmph' noise. Now that he's back in an area he recognizes, he immediately takes a little more interest in his surroundings -- and keeping Feste from stumbling all over those surroundings.
Uh oh, here come the stairs. La Hire is undaunted! La Hire cannot be crippled by simple stairs! La Hire will surely end up falling flat on his face by the end of the evening!
"But you do," Feste murmurs, already heading up the dreaded staircase.
"Then," Abby replies, shifting his cloak around his shoulders slightly. The invisible effect hasn't quite faded yet, which makes it that much creepier. "I may have to take over your shower." He follows Feste up the shairs, shifting the mask to his other arm.
"Just don't steal it, I need it," Feste says, continuing upward.
Andruw Nisse's Apartment [ANA](#4457Ten)
Andruw Nisse's apartment is ill taken care of, but due to its little usage, it stays in good shape. It's outfitted with a small kitchen, living room, bathroom, and single bedroom. Cozy little place, really, with a window looking out on Hyde Park.
Cozy, really, if not for the books scattered EVERYWHERE. Now we know what this man does in his spare time. Other than that, it's relatively spotless, although the furniture looks decidedly on the old side. He could use some decorative advice, though...
Obvious exits:
Out [O] leads to London - Historical District.
Abernathy has arrived.
"That is beyond even my great powers," Abernathy intones, seriously. "I doubt I'd want to, anyhow. My own is fine. I'm more interested in your couch. And your chai." He gives a frail smile. "And your candy. And -- " You get the idea.
The Fool opens his door and, of course, leads Abby inside, failing to close the door behind the other fellow. Oops. "My tea," he mutters. "But you can have some. Candy too."
Once seated on the couch, he begins (attempting) to remove the armor.
That's what Abby's here for -- he gets the door, making sure it shuts and latches. He follows Feste to the couch, setting the mask down on a convenient flat spot as he passes. Then he pulls the cloak off in one easy move, revealing the black wifebeater and loose black jeans he was wearing underneath. That thing is /heavy/ -- and he tosses it on the end of the couch with aplomb. "Need help?"
Feste fiddles with the tie on a spiked pauldron. This is difficult. Ack. "Ja, takk. Appreciated." mumblemumblemumble.
Abernathy settles lightly on the back of the couch, reaching over to help undo the ties. He's got nimble fingers and he's good with knots; this shouldn't take /too/ long.
He's also not drunk. +3 bonus to dexterity roll.
They really aren't that hard to untie. The pauldrons come off easily enough, and next is the breastplate. Feste manages to get the boots off himself.
"Where /did/ you find this, anyway?" Abernathy asks, about half-way through getting the breastplate off. "It's -- very nice." He's probably even thinking of getting a set himself.
"There's a place here, inna District somewhere, I can show you when I'm s-s-not drunk," Feste answers, fidding with the greaves.
"Good. I'd like that." Though whether it's to the thought of Feste not being drunk or going to see this 'person', Abernathy leaves up to Feste to determine. Having gotten the breastplate off, he pauses -- and sets it neatly down on the couch.
F generally doesn't determine things. He just accepts them wholesale and figures things out as they come. Makes things interesting if nothing else. "G'for you." He's wearing a sort of generic brown tunic underneath, assumedly the rest of the costume. The standard has been set aside somewhere else, but the loot-bag sits at the foot of the couch. It's this that grabs F's attention now. "...hm."
Abernathy, stubbornly perhaps, remains perched on the back of the couch -- peering over Feste's shoulder at the lootbag. Almost experimentally, he scooches a little closer to the Fool, and rests a hand on one of his friend's shoulders experimentally. "So how much did you get?"
Feste, to his credit, doesn't really react. No 'GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME, LECHER' but also no... favorable response, if you will. Instead, the Fool lifts the bag and sets it onto his lap. Mm. It's perhaps half full, which should last him... hm... give it a month. Maybe a month and a half. "France will just have to get its own candy," he says, in lieu of an actual quantitative answer.
Abernathy leans in a little closer, to get a better look at the candy. Since he hasn't had his hand brushed off, he leaves it on Feste's shoulder. "Too bad for France, I suppose," he quips. "But then, they'd probably object to it, anyway."
"Well, I did put in a good word for them with Bass," says Feste. "I told him not to nuke them. I hope it helped." He rummages through the candy bag. Quite a nice selection there, ho ho. Ooh, chocolate.
"Hah," is all Abernathy says. After a moment, he slides off the back of the couch, to sit next to Feste. He takes his hand from the other man's shoulder, and glances at the bag of candy once more. Then he shrugs, and flops back against the couch, closing his eyes and resting a hand over them.
"Well, I hope you enjoyed that."
Mmm, chocolate. Feste unwraps a piece and-- offers it to Abby. Must be courteous. "I think I did. Coming to pick you up was the best part, I think." French is fun! Woo! yeah.
Abernathy pauses, and stares at the chocolate. At last, he gives a slight shake of his head, a quirky smile. "I don't like chocolate. But thanks for the thought." Then his smile becomes a little more honest. "Oh, really. Despite the mess with Portal." Who was good at making messes.
"Sorry, does it offend your veg--v... forget it." So Feste eats the chocolate instead. HO HO HO. "Mm, no," he answers, around that mouthful of chocolate. "Because of it."
... And if that's what Feste chooses to think it is, then let him think that way. Abernathy smiles a little, and simply doesn't answer. "Oh. I should have figured."
"Yes, you should have," F chides. And as for the real reason behind it, well, gee. He has no clue that there even /is/ a different answer, let alone what that may be. Munch munch mmmm.
"But I didn't. Silly me." Without warning, Abernathy flops over on his side, leaning against Feste and closing his eyes. " ... The shower will have to wait, I think," he murmurs.
Hm. The Fool stops munching for a moment to observe this new development, then finishes off the piece. "Fine by me."
"Very well. Good night, in that case." ... And Abernathy seems to simply drop off to sleep. Hm. Maybe he's been learning how to maximize whatever chance he gets to rest. Either way, it leaves the Fool with a very tired albino leaning against him and using him as a pillow.
Aww. How cute. F simply flicks the wrapper to some unknown place (read: the floor, in all likelihood) and pats Abby with his free arm. Since one is being leaned against and all. That accomplished, he moves the loot-bag back to the floor, and bestows upon the top of Abby's a head a quick, gentle kiss. "'Night." (zzz)