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I felt like this would be kinda fun.
Basically your OC finds out that the OC above is going to assassinate them at any given point.
How do they react to this? What do they do? How intimidated are they by the OC above?
So, I will use my assassin OC Scourge for this. (partly because he was what inspired me to make this) So basically whoever comments IC next has to react to hearing the news that they are about to be killed by this guy. They might survive though if they're lucky.
In all honesty, Smithson didn't exactly know this was coming, even with all the warnings that his father sprinkled in his direction. The older man had viciously denied the inferi's existence to tooth and nail, in spite of his simultaneous complaints that the man had been menaced by her. She had a grudge against him that just couldn't be extinguished, lamented the melodramatic bitch, and he didn't even know why!
Maybe it was just due to his icy mind, thought the middle-aged man with a frown, just as he felt that someone was watching him. Smithson, almost stupidly, blinked for a few seconds, before turning his head around to see the other party looking down at him. And rather menacingly too, with those infinitely dark eyes, and ominous expression...
"You here for something important, miss?" he attempted to ask with a dismissive wave of his hand. His tone was surprisingly flat... Too flat, really. It was a shitty attempt to hide the hesitation he had in his nerves ever since Johnson had first told him of the inferi, yet here she was... In the flesh. He sucked in a breath before turning his back to her and adding, "I sure hope a servant invited you into my study, at the very least. I didn't get any notification of your arrival earlier. It makes me think that you broke into my house, without a trace of shame in the world."
"It's a little hypocritical - condemning the questionable activities of my father, but undergoing quite the similar approach yourself. Do you have any sense of distinction?"
The middle-aged man blinked for a second before sitting up in his seat and letting out a sigh. He had a feeling that she didn't even know him in person, just that he was Johnson's brethren. Maybe she thought he was like his father, because he was Johnson's son. Maybe they looked a bit similar to her; Smithson, after all, did believe that beings as ominpresent as her tended to see humans as blurs - reducing the impact of differences that could've been used to distinguish one from another. Or maybe...
His gut dropped, but honestly, he didn't want to think about it too much.
"I bet you don't even really want to kill me," sighed Smithson with the same monotone from before, "so please, sit down. I can make a servant give you some tea if you want. I'd rather discuss things than fight, you know. Despite what they say about me... I prefer to play dirty, fight back only as a last resort. I'm a reasonable man unless my opponent isn't." Sure. Smithson chuckled before finally setting the pheasant's-feather quill on the table. The note could wait for a different day.
"So... Tell me more about my father. What was he like? Miserable, I assume? I can only hope that's the case. I'm his son, after all."
count on Smithson to get an existential crisis right before making an important decision. time for a follow-up. potential cw for... lots of death talk from a person with low empathy, as well as... threats and passive-aggression. fun times!!
The middle-aged man carefully thumbed the contract in his pocket before letting out a deep sigh. He could've been in literally any other room, in any other situation, with any other individual. But no. Smithson had to be here, and it was already something he'd regret.
"I can't even know if I'm going to be able to worm my way out of these terms this time," spat the aristocrat under his breath, just as his intended target sighed. So, neither of them wanted to be here? Good. Maybe Smithson could render this fellow nonthreatening in a way that... Didn't involve violence or death. His thumb stilled for a second as he raised a brow at the other party and answered in a clearly audible voice, "Well, just because I don't look like I can snap your neck at any given moment doesn't mean that I can't. So keep your mouth shut for a second and take the threat more seriously, yes?"
Said the person who's reputation almost pivoted on the terms of a single piece of paper.
With a sigh, Smithson leaned back against his seat - almost as if nothing was happening. Almost. Perhaps he could just be the harbinger of bad news, and then cast the burden of the actual assassination onto someone else. Yea, that sounded nice, thought the aristocrat rather idly as he reclined in his chaise - almost too luxurious and comfortable for a potential assassin like him. How convenient.
The man raised a brow as the canine spoke, before interjecting with a wave of his hand, "You know, sir... It's a bit bold to assume that just because you're careful, you're immune to everything that comes your way. I've had people die just out of sheer chance. Car accidents, a slippery rock..." His voice was flat and dull - as if he didn't give a shit about what he had just mentioned. Hell, he even yawned before fluttering his blank eyes at the other party. "You can't ever prevent those things, just reduce the likelihood of them happening. Trust me. You're likely just treating me this way because I look docile, but I hope you know that I'm not usually the one behind the killings myself."
That's one way to put it.
After a pause, Smithson leaned himself forward - just to come face-to-face with the canine's smile - and huffed, "Why, because you're all bark and no bite? I can concede to that. But that also means that unlike you, I do have some bite..." He pulled out a capsule from his pocket and opened it, releasing a large blue jellyfish-like creature that looked... Less than happy to be filling up the already crowded room. "The contract never said that I had to wring my hands around your damn neck in the first place anyway."
tl;dr augustin flexes his practicality™
It didn't take long before Augustin let out a disappointed sigh. He rubbed his forehead with his paw out of irritation. The uncomfortable silence lasted for a good minute, until he finally broke it.
"You really think you're the one who's going to take me down?" he questioned.
Again, he created a silence that dragged on for a while.
"There's something that you don't seem to understand."
Augustin pulled up a chair and sat down. He noticed that it was on the small side, considering that he was nearly two meters tall. But it didn't bother him nearly as much as this conversation he was currently stuck in. He clasped his paws together.
"There are people trying to kill me every day. Whether they're low-level criminals who are jealous of me, or other cartel leaders who think I might be a threat, I'm completely used to the idea of being assassinated. In fact, I've been running from the same guy and his gang for a whole decade."
He sat up straighter in his chair.
"But there's a reason why I made it to thirty-seven, and why I'm sure that the cause of my death will be anything but a successful assassination attempt. Do you think you can guess why?"
Not even waiting for Smithson to reply, he continued.
"Because I'm careful. I don't make decisions without a hundred percent certainty that I'll be able to get myself out of them if things go wrong, which in this business, they often do. While I enjoy the feeling of power, I'm not so desperate to achieve it that I'll place it above my own safety. There's an abundance of criminals I've met who value power over common sense. Most of them are either dead or in prison. Some may call this paranoia. I call it 'using my brain.' And there's one more thing you should know."
Augustin leaned forward in his chair as a disturbing smile slowly spread across his face.
He never smiled.
"If you were even half an assassin, you'd have killed me before I started talking."
SKIP ME, CLAIM THE PERSON ABOVE ME.
just gonna bump this thread. Also just wanted to say thanks to all of you who are posting here! Your responses are all freakin amazing!! Keep it up!
Ariadne quickly knew something was off. She was sitting at the top of the roof of her home, hearing her friends chatter. She looked into the nightsky, just to hear some footsteps. Quickly her head turned around and she jumped off before the person could throw her off the building. "What the he-" Then, Ariadne realised who her attacker was. A being she had an argument with a long while ago and which she never wanted to see again, because she knew how dangerous she is. "Listen, we both wanna survive, so how about we drop this fi-"
Ariadne couldn't finish her sentence, because darkness tried to grab her. "****, I'm not gonna deal with that!!!" She tries to flee, but another gasp of darkness grabbed her robotic foot. She tried to burn it off with her claw, but it's no use. She got thrown far away from the builidng. It's unknown if she survived this meeting, she might be lucky if she landed on her feet, but at least she knew now not to mess with supernatural beings.
Somehow, the girl had become the target of a fiery lynx - one who, for one reason or another, was out to take her down.
She didn't really know why - perhaps she was hired to do it - so maybe - maybe it was possible to reason with her? It didn't seem likely, but definitely worth a shot.
"This-This has gotta be some kinda misunderstanding, or something! Can't we just, like, talk things out? I'm sure things'll be better if we did that! No need for this to happen...!" Syra stammered on, trying (& failing) to keep her voice from wavering as she spoke. Hoping the lynx would see reason.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Something told her that wouldn't be the case - her frayed nerves, perhaps - & something else in her mind believed it.
If push really came to shove, she decided, she wouldn't be going down without a fight.
"Another assassin? When will people learn that no single human can defeat me? Who ever hired you, tell them to stop beeing stingy and just send a lot of people at once."
Examining her opponent, Ace noticed some affinity for fire and steam magic. This didn't bother her much, beeing on fire is annoying, but with her own fire magic, Ace could stop the flames before they caused major damage. What really cought Ace's attention was Xiángyún's sword, it gave her an idea for a fun way to diffuse this situation.
"That's nice blade, could i borrow it for a moment?" Ace said before stepping towards Xiángyún and grabbing his sword by it's blade. She spit a small puff of harmless flames into his face to startle him and used the opportunity to wrestle the sword out of his grip, cutting her hand in the process. Her expiriences as a stage magician made it easy for her to distract Xiángyún with an illusion while slipping his sword into her magic cape and replacing it with a conjured sword that looked almost identical. She would return the real sword latter, once her attacker had calmned down a little, but first, she had something to show him.
Ace grabed the fake sword by it's hilt and asked, "You have fire magic too, right? Have you ever tried using it like this?" and covered the sword in fire. The fake sword slowly started melting and, pretending to be suprised, Ace said "Whoops... That was a little too hot i guess..."
Graak hardly looked up when Ace entered the room. Her fingers wade through her paperwork. Contracts, bills. Letters and notes. Graak took a huff of her cigarette and lifted her hand to stop Ace's inevitable stream of words. "One moment, please dear. I'm not done with my paperwork yet, " Graak said. Her mouth corners curled oh so slightly. "You know how important paperwork is. As long as we write it down it happens and it's binding, " she paused. Graak plucked her burned up cigarette between her lips and pressed the butt on the table. Not her ashtray.
She eyed her opponent and adjusted the monocle. "So it comes to this? You're here to kill me?" Graak said. She laughed, a small polite laughter that she hide behind her hands. "Oh please, my sweet child. Take a seat instead, " Graak's gaze dipped back at her precious paperwork. She even beckoned when Ace, In Graak's opinion, took to long to approach her. "I don't care who hired you, " she said when the shapeshifter sat down. "But I pay you double too kill them, " Graak said. Finally looking up from her papers again. "That must be an enormous amount of money right dear? Sending such a powerful being like you, after an old lady like me..." Graak said.
She leaned a bit over her bureau. "You should consider my offer. It's not one I give away lightly my dearest child." Graak said. "I've got enough marks for you to hunt, enough chaos to spread. I simply promise you not to let you rot in a liberty for what was it?" She paused as if she was thinking. Then her face lighted up, "oh yes. 16 years right?"
--
Graak 🤝 Donne crimelords
"Oh Miss Donne," she said with a genuine small smile. "It's a lovely day isn't it my dear?" she asked as if nothing had happened.
Graak leaned a bit on her cane while examine Donne with her gaze. So young, and so successful. Graak smiled. "I had to put up a show my dear, you know how this world works don't you?" I wouldn't call killing a bunch of people to get access to the elevator a show but..Okay.
"A offer dear? I'm listening," Graak hummed. She liked offers and deals, the unexpected. Kept the business fresh and alive you know.
"I do you one better," the older lady said. She inspected her fingernails before she continued, "I tell you who send me and we bóth pay them a visit? How about that," she smiled. A genuine smile. "I would love to see you work, miss Donne."
Ms Donne looks up at the just-arrived Ms Graak, and the small squad of goons that worked under the elderly business lady. It doesn't take too long for Bella to stand up and meet them, two armour-covered guards behind her.
This was nothing but expected of course, no one could just walk into a heavily guarded medical building and a mafia headquarter to kill the boss of both. That's not to mention how elderly lady had lost a fair amount of men to even get up here safely to see her younger rival, the chasm between their world's technologies weighed heavily in Bella's favour, and it showed.
"While it's lovely to see you again, Ms Graak, I wish you wouldn't have killed my workers do get to the elevator. But, now you're here, I guess I can offer some kind of deal." Bella analysed Greetje Graak, an 70 year old lady with a smoking habit, it wouldn't be difficult for Bella to use any of her strengths to cause a quick victory, but she simply asks the offer "If you tell me who sent you on this, let's be honest, fool's errand, and where I can find them. I will let you walk out of those doors and back down the elevator, and let you leave, unharmed, alive and with the remainder of your men."
She was never a fan of bloodshed, and Greetje was too much of an asset to just carelessly let die, even after this "I would ask that you honestly consider where you're standing, Ms Graak. While killing you would be a shame, for all the trouble you've caused in the last..." Bella checks her watch, before resting the hand on the wooden stock of the shotgun resting on her desk "...Hour and a half, it would be more pleasant for the both of us if you step down and comply."
[AWWW, BROWN ;-;]
[I wanna hug her]
Bella could respect a woman like Brown. They were much alike, though the difference was that while Bella had carved her freedom through crime only that and Brown... Well, Bella wasn't sure how Brown got out of her situation, but she seemed to relax a little bit. "Don't worry, he just wants some blood, which I am here to collect." She points her shotgun to the ground "If I get something of yours and put some red on it, I don't even need to kill you." What she was doing would've been betrayal... If this wasn't the plan already. Quite simply, you cannot betray someone if you were never on their side to begin with.
"You said it yourself, Ms Brown, he has the power and the wealth, so killing you has no merit for me." Bella starts to wander around a bit, looking at all the little bits and fossils, picking up the spiral-looking rock and trying to work out what it was "You seemed quite defensive of this. Old sea creature? Some kind of snail? I'll have to admit, archaeology was never my doctorate." She secures her grip around it better, before pulling out a small scalpel "Now, If I may, I just need splash some blood around this and commit economically-fuelled homicide on your... I assume Ex-Husband."
After a quick cut of Brown's finger and a frankly concerning amount of red liquid dropping on the ancient rock, Bella administers a level of healing before she finally makes her way out, commenting "I'll be sure to clean this off before I send it back to you, biohazards and all of that." as the tasty cake is left behind, not even a slice taken out of it, perfect for when the adrenaline of the interaction wore off.
my response is a bit longer than what I'd usually write, so I'll toss it into a spoiler box just in case!!
For one thing, the young woman looked like she was about to faint in terror, but at the same time... Brown just heaved out a sigh and set down her ammonite fossil. It had dust jammed into nearly every crevice imaginable, and here was Brown, trying to clean up her prized possession when she heard the door open from behind her. She didn't know what to expect, though... Funnily enough, at first, she hunched herself over the fossil, as if she expected the other party to try seizing the fossil from her. Then what?
Break it? Deface it? Insult it? The list of possibilities actually horrified poor Brown as her entire frame shuddered like a fragile little stalk in a gale.
"I knew my husband would try sending an assassin after me someday," she blurted grimly after what seemed like an eternity of silence. Wait... What? Brown bit back a whimper before steadily straightening her posture, then cradling her prized fossil in her arms. "He has the money and the power, and he knows at this point I won't bend to him. I was his project, because he wanted me to get better for the sake of my parents... I think so, at least..." More than once, her voice cracked while she adjusted the feather in her headband, then carefully looked over her shoulder to properly face the older woman.
"I bet he told you about me, about how much better it would be if I was gone. That must be the case, huh? I never wanted to be with him, or have to do anything with him, and yet..." Yet what? Brown wrung her hands together while eyeing the shotgun, then biting down on her lip. Seeing the muzzle pointed at her actually terrified her, and for good reason since she wasn't buff at the time.
The tide would turn in a few years, but for now...
Brown shook her head before sighing, "I do not think it matters, though. You seem like the type of woman to have an ounce of confidence and bluntness in you, and I suppose I can admire that. The difference is that you are living as yourself, and I..." She stared at the fossil, then at her headband, before abruptly ripping the latter from her head and throwing it down at the desk (though also making sure it didn't actually damage the fossil). Hot tears brimmed at her eyes as she clenched her hands against the wood, then turned away from the other party. "I am living a life that people expected of me..." She finally released a sniffle before allowing her grip on the desk to loosen.
"But I guess I failed in that too, hm?" remarked the young woman, "If my husband is so willing to send an assassin after me... Trust me; if you expected someone illustrious like a murderer, or even a thief, you'll be disappointed. I think he made up that bullshit to make me look bad. And you believed it. How candid is that?" With a sniff of resignation, Brown just shook her head. "I have some cake in the kitchen if you want it. It was supposed to be for me, but I'm not hungry anymore. Not after that scare you gave me, so you can have it if you want, I guess. It won't matter if I'm alive or dead. Just take the cake."
Brown doesn't kick ass for once, but it's technically only because of an age thing. oops.
FOLLOW-UP TIME.
Brown had hopped alongside the other party for who-knows-how-long, a suspicious flask clearly held in her hand. At this point in her life, she wouldn’t have made such a dastardly concoction; poor Brown simply didn’t have the edginess needed to be fascinated with oleander leaves and other potentially dangerous toxins. In fact, all she remembered was that she was ordered to take this vial along with her, and that she was supposed to help the other with her tasks, specifically carrying armor in this particular moment.
Simple enough, right? At least… The young woman hoped that was the case. Just so she could pass the time, and hopefully have enough to herself so that she could busy herself with fossils…
As long as her husband wasn’t looking, of course!
“It is so cold up here," opined the aristocrat while her frame obviously shuddered from the biting air. Oh, if only she was buff... She attempted to hold her hands to her shoulders to rub them, while also balancing the armor in them; it almost failed spectacularly, as the young woman squeaked when a chestplate almost fell onto the floor below. Brown froze for a moment before sniffing, "I am surprised how nobody freezes up here, especially because they do not have anything to, uh, wear... I mean in terms of coats, at least. Or scarves. Armor doesn't look very comfortable up here..." The young woman then pointed her eyes over in the direction of the flask.
"Someone told me that's a good way to keep yourself warm. It has warming effects, I think. I don't believe in herbalist bullshit, so I am not really sure about the veracity, but... You can try, yes?"
With a sigh, Brown set down the armor before nervously watching the other woman approach the flask, pick it up, drink it, then... Spit it out? The young woman actually looked horrified as she watched the other splutter and cough for breath, then point her pale eyes over at the younger party.
"Is it bitter?" she asked while taking a step back, pressing her spine against a nearby wall, "I... I think it might be because of the herbs put in there... I wasn't there when it was made - I only received it..." The blood could actually be seen draining from Brown's face as she stared up at the other towering above her. Great. Was she going to have her ass kicked right here, right now?
Several decades later, she might be pissed about it.
Suddenly, Brown stood herself up, asking, "Wait, so... You think it is poisoned? I... I would not know. I do apologize-" Now the young woman wast he one coughing as she struggled for breath, her lungs apparently seizing up on themselves while the other seemed ready to give her... A warning. Not an ass-kicking. A warning. Brown in her forties wouldn't have cared - perhaps even called her a coward - but this one? This one was about to shit herself in terror! It might've been melodramatic, but at the same time, she knew from experience that words did hurt just as much as sticks and stones.
"It's an order, I promise," the young woman whispered in reply, as her body was completely pressed against the wall at this point. And then her shoulders were in the air. Brown found herself shoved away from her refuge, and she could only freeze in place while the other continued to ramble. Dipping her head, Brown chewed on her lip before taking a few steps toward the doorway. "Understood, miss. I do want to see the theropods anyway. I... I hope this misunderstanding gets resolved." Or not? Brown's legs still felt like they were stuck to the floor anyway...
The West was... cold. Gee, what a description. That was all Nerine could think to describe the damn place when she first returned, and it was how she thought to describe it each day onward. It wasn't like hiding herself away in some shitty old cabin helped any -- especially when the one she currently resided in was broken down, the aged roof cleaved through by a fallen tree, allowing the freezing air to blow in from the hole overhead.
She had survived so far, however, though it took some effort to stay well-muscled enough to carry her armor around with her. Having another party around to aid her was beneficial, really, so when she found the younger woman, she so reluctantly allowed her to linger by her side. Paranoia struck her early on. She learned quickly with the death of her wife not to trust easily -- especially not to trust those who she happened to come across at random. Brown was one such acquaintance.
Nevertheless, Nerine brought her water flask to her lips, and then she regretted it. The taste wasn't as bland as one would expect -- first sweet, and then intensely bitter the longer it settled on her tongue. With a harsh cough, she spat her drink out. It continued to burn her mouth, and so much so that she took in a breath of the crisp air before spitting and spluttering once more.
Her pale eyes darted right for Brown, then. She threw the flask to the ground, allowing to hit the dirty floorboards with a small plink and a slosh as the water spilled from it.
"If I didn't know any better," she hissed, "I'd say this water you collected got shit dumped in it." She rose to her feet, and began making her way towards Brown, her footsteps heavy, tinged with a metallic sound as her boots thudded on the floor. "And I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt."
The younger woman was a fearful one, and that Nerine could understand, and perhaps even pity. Alas, a warning did have to be given, and Nerine herself had to remind herself not to chug anything she didn't collect herself.
"I'll tell you this once, little lady," Nerine said to Brown, "I like you, because I'm near always alone otherwise, and you've a nice face, and you're not an average noblewoman, that's for sure. It's that look in your eyes." She leaned in close to her. "I don't know what you're thinking, madame, but whether you're going off an order or making an experiment out of me, you're going to wish you hadn't."
She grappled Brown's shoulder, and then shoved her away, although not as forcefully as one would expect. It was a firm push, and followed by a sharp, "Get out of here. Those theropods you said you wanted see so badly will not wait for you. Or, was that a lie? Are you just here to be a bitch?"
FOLLOW-UP TIME i've been listening to tatu all day and losing my mind.
Life in Yenereth does things to a woman. It made Nerine into a man-hating lesbian, who unfortunately [or fortunately?] Skinner was speaking to.
Stealth wasn't exactly Nerine's forte, her armor a noisy hindrance as she sauntered closer to the room where the older man resided. She loosened the grip her fingers had on the handle of her mace as she stepped through the threshold, at that point alerting him to her presence, which... wasn't something she wanted, really, because then it gave him the time to stop her in her tracks and open his mouth to chatter on. Whether or not she listened was a good question, as her expression was stone-cold, unreadable, and her posture straight and scarcely betraying any emotion.
Which wasn't to say she didn't feel anything, successfully biting back a scowl as he rambled on about his wife, about him passing the duty of assassinating the fugitive onto her. Maybe it was just her, but letting his wife almost catch the blame for such a thing didn't exactly sound like the behavior of a loving husband. But, what did she know? She never wed a man. Thank God. Still, she couldn't help but to finally scoff as his grin widened. He looked like a chimpanzee to her. A very fat, nervous chimpanzee.
At least the young woman liked the raptor meat, which... was good to hear, honestly, because Nerine personally didn't care for what was basically hillbilly squirrel meat by her standards, but in poultry form. She supposed if she even met her again after this, she'd hunt something more palatable for her. Maybe even cook something, if both of them were incredibly lucky. A spicy venison bowl was far better than fake chicken. And, also, literally anything was better than wine -- and what did this man offer her?
"Don't bother, wine's shit." she said to him, "Had you offered a buttered rum, I might've accepted, but..."
She waved her hand. "That's off the table."
Nerine stopped once more as Skinner spoke again of his wife. She raised a brow at him, before glancing past him at the pinned dragonfly he had been fiddling with. "I know what?" she asked, "Nobles are always so concerned with marriages that I wonder if I was ever truly apart of the flock. Thank the gods my own wasn't ever official, huh?" She barked out a dry laugh, before abruptly cutting it off and easing forward another step.
"But you," she said, "You're right. Preserving the wellbeing of others is something I've always taken a lot of pride in, so..." There was a pause. "You should tell me a little bit about your dear wife. It didn't appear that you were very concerned about her getting battered or killed. Maybe the same sentiment of keeping people alive and well isn't on your mind."
Skinner heard a thud, then a crash - though those noises, regardless of whether they were alone or together, weren't enough to pique the middle-aged man's attention at first. Hell, he was probably just convinced that his wife was wreaking havoc as per usual, and that he should probably just focus on trying to adjust the position of this delicately pinned dragonfly. You know, not interfere even though the younger woman was certified as an angsty mess by this point.
It was only the clang of armor that caused him to perk up and look over at a very strong, very angular-shaped woman with what appeared to be a weapon in her hands. Looks like Brown won't get the privilege of killing Skinner this time? Unless...
Awkwardly raising his hands into the air, he greeted the intruder with a sheepish grin and some very well-chosen words: "Well, I... I heard about you just the tiniest bit from my wife - I think... Didn't she say that she almost, uh, poisoned you one time? Not that she meant to, she insisted, but..." He rubbed the back of his neck while pressing his spine against the back of his chair. "... If she said that I was responsible for the ploy, then that's not true! I'd never do such a thing. An, uh, associate passed it down to me, and then I gave it to her, so... You know..." His grin grew in size and tension, because of course it did.
It didn't change the fact that you threw her under the bus, Skinner.
"... You know what happened from there," the aristocrat piqued in with a chuckle, before nudging the case of displayed bugs off to the side and musing further, "By the way, Brown says she thanks you for the - uh - meat you gave her. Raptor meat, if I'm correct? Yea, she likes that. She's always been a carnivore, but to eat something exotic is new for her. I just-" He rubbed the back of his neck and stammered, "I just... I'm just surprised. I thought she'd be more reluctant to accept the offer because the idea of eating a species that can become one of her beloved fossils, but... Well... She ate that up. Almost like a beast."
Skinner hesitated for another second before straightening himself in his seat and asking, "But... That asides... Did she hire you to get the job done?" Oh? "I can explain myself, over a glass of wine," he commented further, "Maybe I can interest you in one?" Another pause. "... It's just unfortunate. It's all dictated by oath, and trust me; if it wren't for that, I would've left her a maiden, but you know-" He chuckled, though the noise that escaped from his throat sounded so strained that he might as well have been threatened with a weapon. Speaking of which...
He glanced over at the other's armor and chiseled visage, as he sniffed, "I know you're cold, but you have a hint of compassion in you now - do you? I hope that extends to preserving others' lives. The smell of the sea is so much better than that of blood - trust me." Famous last words.
follow-up time. Skinner is.... too nice to kick a child's ass..... Brown, on the other hand....
Skinner swore that the target of this supposed assassination operation would be right here-
Crash!
Well, that was one way to make an entrance.
With the slightest gasp, the middle-aged man found himself in the middle of what appeared to be a bedroom. This was either going to turn out well, or absolutely horribly! Probably the latter, as his rational mind was quick to conclude the more he glanced around the room-
Oh, and the fact that he was a bit of a fucking coward, but… You know… Anything for his wife, right? She wanted this fellow gone, and Skinner wasn’t going to piss her off for what was likely the billionth time; he just wanted to satisfy her for once, anyways, and… Even if that meant violating his usual pacifistic doctrine, he was more than willing to take it.
Anyone else but him, right? It was just unfortunate that - you know - it wasn’t going to prevent him from his ass getting kicked in a few years.
Alas alas, it wasn’t enough for him to feel any more prepared when the occupant of the residence came in with a kitchen knife. Oh, how ironic this was going to be! Skinner kicked away some shards of broken glass before raising his hands in the air and grinning rather sheepishly, because… Of course he did. Smile and wave, motherfucker - smile and wave.
“Ask me to what?” Skinner finally spoke up when the other piqued in, “Uhhh… Pay for the damages? I can do that! I have a lot of money!” He stuck a hand in his pocket in an attempt to take out some money and prove his point, but then- Skinner remembered. He didn’t take along any money with him just in case he might’ve gotten robbed en route; after all, he was an aristocrat, and so he was a prime target for thieves regardless of the bugs he had in possession - or the reason as to why he was wandering around so fucking late at night.
“Oh, wait!” he was quick to reassure the child with an insistent wave of his hand, “I can leave too, if you want! You don’t have to call your brothers or use the knife! Let me just-” Taking in a sharp breath, the middle-aged man glanced around the room before asking more carefully, “Where’s the door?” Nice.
Skinner did, though, raise his brows when the child started to cry. He hesitated and frowned for a moment, before carefully stepping towards him.
“It’s fine,” he told him with a sigh, “I don’t have a knife. Or a weapon, really. You’ll be fine. I just heard about-” Was he really going to bring up the fact that his wife technically wanted this kid dead? Skinner paused, then shook his head at himself. “- I just heard about something tasty that your house has. Is that true? I can just take that, if you want - just to try it out…” Smooth.