This user is not visible to guests.
Please tell me if this thread has been done before!
Basically, here's how this works:
Character 1: John and the oc below have to work together to kill evil guy #470!
Character 2: "Hey john how u doin" "hey bob how u doin" *smashes evil guy with a hammer while john yeets the evil guy across the city* Bob and the oc below have to work together to rebuild bob and co!
and so on..
yeah
Quick rules, should be pretty normal to you guys by now:
1. No going NSFW! Keep the thread clean please <3
2. Only post your character once every 3 posts!
3. Try to put effort into your response! (at least 5 sentences!) basically, you can't just do- CHARACTER: *helps person to defeat x*
4. If your request is story specific, make sure you explain!
5. You must post IC! (duh)
6. Try to include a balance of the oc above and your oc!
7. HAVE FUN!
You get 2 warnings! Afterwards you're banned from the game! Please don't harrass any of the people mentioned on this list.
Nobody has been banned yet! Let's keep it that way.
Tips for your writing! You don't have to do any of these, but it makes it more interesting for everyone involved!
1. How did your oc get into this situation? Explain.
2. Does your character know where they are?
3. Why does the above character want help?
4. Does your character have trouble helping out? maybe they aren't too great at socializing.
Lets start off with Colin!
The oc below must work together with Colin to sell newspapers!
Otto didn't think that he would be here to organize books, essays, and artifacts, but hey, there's a first for everything! He assumed it would be an easy way to get the other man on his side, anyhow. Though, his attempts to lighten the other party up seemed to be in vain, so... he just shut up for now. Which was obviously a good thing, and perhaps so for both of them. Araki was probably tired of listening to Otto, and Otto's throat was beginning to hurt, so chattering on and on was going to be an issue eventually. So, he sucked it up, his pride damaged, but there was no doubt that it would pick up again.
There was another problem, however. Otto was terrible at organizing. He had his own system for filing, but it wasn't as tidy as one might assume. He left such things to those he thought of as less important, really, but now that he was actually required to do it...
"Your career sounds so fascinating, Honda." He remarked after a long period of silence. He thumbed uselessly through a stack of papers, pulling out a couple that were stapled together and flipping through them. "There are so many... customs and beliefs out there. I mean, of course there are, no culture is the same, but it's still quite interesting to hear of them. Studying them actually sounds a bit amusing."
He took a step back and sauntered towards another stack of papers behind him. He paused to stare at the contents of the essay he held onto, biting his bottom lip as he tried to figure out what in the fresh Hell he was reading. Dates. He should be organizing these by dates, shouldn't he? Or by alphabet?
He glanced back at the man, breathing out a long sigh. Again, Araki... wasn't much of a conversationalist...
Otto placed the essay onto the desk, now frowning, feeling quite out of place. Which wasn't really good for his ego. He wished that... his uncle or one of his retainers were here. Someone who was so obviously worse than him that he could give himself a confidence boost. But, alas alas! He remained an ass. And he was forced to continue working, turning back to the other stack with a heavy sigh.
"I assume you want these listed by... Oh, no, hm." He hummed obnoxiously for a moment, before asking, "Wouldn't it be easy to simply... Organize them by the authors' names? I think it would, personally."
And, Otto being the type to always take the easy way out these days...
the character below must help Otto prepare his gardens for a party. oh no!
(sorry i gotta shove my bug alien at otto again asjhdh)
Krys had been enjoying a rather slow day. They had already attended to their own garden, and since they were waiting for some of the plants to grow so they could experiment on making a few medicines, they had nothing else to do. So they had just planned to laze around and nap the day away. However, that plan had been scrapped the moment when someone arrived and promptly woke them. They were still a bit dazed with sleep when the person said something along the lines of Otto needing them before ushering the confused alien on.
They were led to an estate, then around to the garden that was..well, large and very beautiful. They couldn't say they were surprised, they had gathered as much from what Otto told them, but to see it in person was a different experience. It definitely wasn't a herbalist's garden, set up for beauty rather than for function. However, it did remind them of the expansive greenhouses they used to tend to with their mentor, as the familiar itch of curiosity burned in their mind. They wanted to explore it like they explored those greenhouses.
They held back until they were brought to Otto though, standing a little straighter under the man's gaze and offering a happy little wave. Unfortunately they didn't have a flower to offer him this time, they had been pulled along too suddenly to think to grab some, and their hair was currently clean of flowers since they washed it early that morning. Krys hoped he wouldn't mind, they'd make it up to him next time, maybe they could make a flower crown? Their attention was brought back to the present as Otto explained why he had a servant grab them, their antennae perking a little. A party? And he wanted them to help prepare for it? Well, they wouldn't mind helping, they weren't doing anything anyways. Plus it gave them an excuse to look around...
They nodded and let Otto lead them to whatever he specifically wanted them to do, and when left with that duty, they did it. They didn't complain or peep, they didn't have a reason to when they got to have a closer look at the garden. The only time they drifted a little was when some servants struggled to carry something and they lent their (surprising) strength to help. Otherwise, the bug mostly focused on the plants and the task they'd been given, finding it to be the type of work they enjoyed.
The OC below gets roped into helping Krys make one of their concoctions!
(aw, very cute! i think they could be buds! here's a follow up)
Krys had been involved with carefully plucking some ingredients from plants when the man walked in, not even noticing him until he spoke up. They startled a little, antennae shooting up in surprise from their relaxed curl. They turned to him, taking him in and calming down a little from their initial scare. That was when they absorbed just what he was saying. They made a soft chirp, a surprised yet happy noise for their species. They didn't consider themself especially vain, but hearing a compliment from someone of a different species instead of the normal confused stare, or worse, revulsion, made them feel nice.
'Thank you,' they signed first, not letting him just brush it off since they appreciated it, before directing him on what to do. It was a bit of trial and error since their new helper didn't seem to know their sign language very well, but Krys made do with gesturing and simple hand signals. They didn't mind that he was talkative either, they could be the same with people that knew sign, and it was a relief to have chatter rather than stilted silence. Even the singing was nice, it was something kal'rots couldn't do, so Krys enjoyed the unique experience.
Once the mixture is done, Krys does absolutely miss Kryptos' disappointment. However, they do not miss their own. They had fun working on the medicine with him and had enjoyed his company, they were sad to think they may never have his company again. They go to stop him when he turns to leave, but he does that for them, stopping to shake their hand and finally tell them his name. They return the handshake happily, and before he can leave, make a "one minute" gesture. They pull out a piece of paper from their a belt and a pen that had been on the table, scribbling something down, before handing it over to him. On it, the name "Krys" was written and underneath that was a way to personally contact them. Perhaps a little bold of them, but they weren't one to keep to themself.
"Oh wow, you're beautiful," the man's eyebrows arch, interrupting his inspection of the unfamiliar greenhouse plants. He's definitely never seen a kal'rot before, or anything like one, for that matter. Naturally, Krysokroa's appearance would catch him off-guard, but luckily for all parties involved, he arguably feels more comfortable around insects than other people. How fortunate for him, given that he'd responded to the help wanted post without looking into it too much beforehand.
He coughs awkwardly. "Sorry I, um, really like your, uh..." He taps his forearm. "Exoskeleton?" Yeah, no, that definitely didn't make the situation any better.
"Anyway," he gently claps his hands together, muffled further by his gloves. "So what are we up to today? What can I help you out with?"
The kal'rot gestures to the plants behind them, then the mixing bowl. Kryptos makes a mental note: no words with this one. Not a problem for him; he's had a number of nonverbal friends at different times, so it's a familiar song and dance. And with a *real* bug-person, no less! How exciting!
"Okay, so we're taking the plants... oh, not this plant? That plant? Just the flowers on this one, gotcha. So we're taking these plants, aaannd... Into the bowl. And mixing! Okay, that seems pretty simple. Oh wait, was the ratio important? Shoot, can you show me that step again?"
For a time, their dance continues like this, with Krys showing him what to do and him narrating his thoughts and processes. In fact, there's more than a few moments where Krys catches him distracted, either blathering about his everyday home life or idly singing to himself. Regardless, he learns pretty quickly, and certainly seems to be enjoying himself.
Eventually, the concoction is finished. The man seems pleased, yet slightly disappointed.
"Well," he smiles, with a note of sadness at parting that Krys likely misses, "that was fun! Please, by all means, invite me back if you need help again."
He turns to leave, but interrupts himself, and sticks his hand out towards the kal'rot. "Oh, I don't think I ever introduced myself! My name's Kryptos, by the way. It's been great meeting you."
(oh i could definitely see these two being friends. love it.)
---
The OC below gets to help Kryptos fix some of his harder-to-reach robotics!
These strange soldiers dragged the princess against her will into a lab-like area. The entire building was so off-putting and made her uncomfortable, filled with these soldiers and their strange masks that reminded her of pigs, and with these even stranger animals that were like combinations of different kinds! How she had gotten here, she couldn't remember, but her title of princess no longer held any weight, as there was a queen, but no one she knew. This land was nothing she was familiar with, either.
There was only one person in the room she had been lead to: a young man about her age dressed in a deep red coat, hunched over in his seat playing some kind of video game. He seemed very focused on it, so much so that one of the guards had to clear their throats to get his attention. The man was chipper, a sharp contrast to all the soldiers Ennette had seen so far, and introduced himself as Kryptos. He was friendly and seemed to care about her wellbeing. When the guards left, he explained that he'd been waiting for some help with maintenance. By the look on his face, it didn't seem like he expected the Pigmasks to bring in a prisoner to do the task. But he was kind, and she felt just a sliver more comfortable around him, and agreed to help, much to his delight.
He gestured high up in the room, where she saw a shelf full of robotics, all unmoving and turned off, but undoubtedly dangerous. Now she understood why the Pigmasks didn't want to help. "I don't think we could reach even if I stood on your shoulders," she frowned as she looked at him, though she was quick to perk up. "Maybe Liszt can help!" She pulled out her lyre and played a gentle tune that echoed throughout the room. Slowly, something filtered into view above her, something ghostly blue; it was wavy, slowly solidifying to make the vague shape of a hand--
A string broke, and the hand disappeared. "Oh no," Ennette sighed. "I almost had it, too! If we can get a string for Liszt then I think I can grab those off for you!" She looked around at all the varying machines. "Or maybe we could build something to reach up for us? Although I'm no good at robotics, that would have to be all you."
There's a thief in the castle! Ennette needs your help either setting a trap to catch him, or getting evidence to prove it to her father!
Ennette was at her wit's end. She knew he was a thief, she KNEW it, but the slippery... stinky man somehow managed to avoid her traps each time! Well she was done with this cat-and-mouse game, this time she'd hire professionals!
What she didn't expect, however, was for said professional to be... him. She stared at him, mesmerized, for quite a while, nearly missing everything he first said. She couldn't believe it. It was Kowalski! She'd only seen him once long ago, but it was enough to make her heart skip beats and send butterflies fluttering in her stomach! Could their reunion possibly be the work of Fate?
Ennette blinked when Kowalski talked about being relieved the thief wasn't harmful. When he mentioned her, and that smile, ohh... Little hearts floated above the princess's head. Oh goodness, maybe there's another thief here, and he's stealing hearts! What a tale to tell people, that she found her true love when he protected her home from SMELLY thieves. It was romantic, it was daring, it was--
She blinked when Kowalski asked her something. "O-Oh!" she smiled sheepishly, face bright red in embarrassment. Ahh, even with such a humble request he looked so dashing...! "O-Of course!" she nodded, tensing up at his next comment. She could stay?! With him?! A-And he'd protect her?! Ohh, like a knight in shining armor!
The princess tried to contain her excitement, dropping her gaze while fidgeting with the sash on her dress. "Y-You can have more men help you, i-if you want," she said in almost a whisper. "I-I'm not worried about what my people think about me or the castle. I'm more... worried about you..." She quickly looked up with a determined smile. "I-I'd like to accompany you too! I'm not muscular or fast but... but I think I can protect you too, if something were to happen!"
Kowalski is Nessy's business name if you wonder. I will use it because this is a business---
You should never try to catch a thief by using physical force or running after them. Contact local security to handle the matter.
Hellow, Kowalski the your local security is here. It've been a long time since his last business for a monarchy systems of government, a person, the monarch, is head of state for life or until abdication, that sure need a lot of formality than usual, that why the men's Chief send him out to handle this. What's they say? Kowalski is not the type of man would being off with their head for slip their mouth.
"Taking what isn't your, classic case," The man in black mutter to himself, say over his shoulders as he carefully wander around the scene of crime "I'm thrilled that they don't make any harm on your highness. That would be a dire straits, even more than properties loss, for your prosperous kingdom a petty man self of mine to perceive a princess got harm." He ended with a smile. Political and emotional. Typical business Nessy.
"I got their way of escape tatic." Doesn't seem to be a formidable one, predictable. "At the present situation, may you grant me a favor, your highness?" Kowalski put the gloved hand on the heart,
"My request is a group of 5 men. My words might sound misapprehend, I can handle this myself, but isn't it," Speaks with a more whispery tempting voice "a more impressive victory, for a political figure as your highness to take place in and have the faith of citizens."
Promotional gift, because why not. He can just find the thief current place, then bring back their head on a golden plate for Ennette and let world showers the princess in praise for saving the day, but today guess he will take things bit slower.
"3 hours. Our men finished sending proffs to his highness just now. If you intend to keep company with me, I shall protect you with all my might until the case end. You have my words," Kowalski bowed and turn into a more childlike tone, showing his pinky finger with a smile "and pinky finger, your highness"
Nessy found a lost child whom he was able to take them home. But. They panicked, keep crying and screaming when our (somehow scare them) watchman approaches. Please help him to calm the child because he's helpless with children.
Dominiko walked down the street carrying a large shovel. His expression was an unchanging, disturbing smile. He was about to head for the grocery store to steal a loaf of bread when he saw a white-haired man trying to console a child. Intrigued, Dominiko decided to take a detour and approach the two, still carrying the shovel.
"Don't worry, I know how to solve this," he said after learning what the problem was. Dominiko set the shovel aside, took a Beretta out of his pocket, and pointed it at the child. His expression stayed the same - it was still as terrifying as ever. The gun didn't help. Unfortunately, this was Dominiko's default way of solving problems.
Miraculously, the child stopped crying, and he clung to the white-haired man's leg.
"You see? Anything is possible if you have a gun. That's one of my favorite pieces of advice out there, and I recommend that you take advantage of it as well."
Dominiko reached into his other pocket and pulled out another handgun. He couldn't remember what this one was, but he held it out to Nessy with confidence anyway.
"Here, you can take this. I have enough of my own already. I'm sure it would greatly benefit you in the future."
---
Dominiko needs help burning his eviction notices and restraining orders to lower the government's suspicion of him! He doesn't care how you start the fire, he just wants them all disposed of within an hour!
"You're a total creep, you know that?" Ben huffs, making a point to glare at the canine to show his disgust. To be fair, the man did approach him out of nowhere with the request, and it wasn't exactly a situation that could be written off as normal. Still, Ben supposed his equally sketchy appearance was the reason the canine sought him out, and he wasn't opposed to helping if it meant lighting something on fire.
"Don't need to know the backstory." He holds up his hand when the stranger blurts out a joke about the papers criminal context. "I'm just a juvenile delinquent committing arson, not an accomplice to....whatever it is you do." After clarifying his involvement, Ben digs around in his pocket for a lighter and carelessly opens the flame when he finds it. "Got any booze?" He holds out his free hand expectantly before he even finishes the question, "Both as payment, and to help with the fire, thank you." When the canine offers up the requested bottle, Benjamin snatches it quickly and pours only a few drops onto the papers. The accelerant does the trick regardless, and the feline leaps back to safety after lighting the pile ablaze. "Pleasure doing business with you," he says sarcastically and takes a large drink of the bottle. "Remember, not an accomplice. Get fucked if you get yourself caught." With that, he waves him off and saunters down the alley back to his apartment.
Ben left his ID at home, but needs to convince the gas station clerk he's over 18 to buy cigarettes! If he doesn't get them through legal means, he's going to straight up rob the place. Help prevent disaster so you can buy your potato chips without having to testify as a witness later.
"Are you kidding me right about now?" Smithson asked while staring down the young adult, "You look... Perfectly adult to me in spite of your diminutive stature. Why would you need to borrow an identification card from me? Just tell them that you're an adult, and everything should be fine." Shut up, Smithson. It's only easy for you to say because you look old as all fucking hell - wrinkles, slightly greyed-out hair, and liver spotting galore.
Still... The longer the middle-aged aristocrat thought about it, the more he realized that maybe bothering the man in his forties for an identification document didn't seem... Too stupid or overly reckless of an idea? Objectively and rationally, of course. He was probably just still the tiniest bit upset over it because he was on the receiving end of this type of favor; if he were the koi-feline hybrid - stuck with youth, a short temper, and a less than impressive height - then he sure as hell was going to take advantage of that combination and badger people for resources. See? This guy could have empathy sometimes! Sometimes.
Besides, as a fellow (and sort-of representative) of the law, Smithson sort of had to weigh the two evils. Sure, it was technically illegal to engage in identity fraud; however, he was also pretty fucking convinced that robbery was also illegal, so... Which one was going to result in a less awkwardly drawn-out interview? Smithson bit down on his lip, his hand gravitating towards his pocket for a second, before-
"I have an idea," he suddenly blurted before leaning in slightly to explain further, "Basically... How about that you pretend that... I'm your... Guardian. Nobody questions that now, right?" It's kind of weird to have an anthropomorphic animal as your child, even if they're "adopted," but sure. It could work. Smithson had a bunch of weird pets that were likely to be sourced unethically anyways, so this was probably the least of his problems. "I'll pretend that the cigarettes are mine, but... As soon as we're somewhere isolated, I'll give them to you," the older man added with a whisper, "So... How about that? Does that work?" He scanned the other's face just to make sure this wasn't a stupid decision in the making, but... Who knows, really!
This will be fine.
Heaving out a grunt, the middle-aged man stated more loudly, "Besides! If aristocratic influence carries over across regions, then the law... Doesn't matter." Hey there. "With enough money, you can get away with pretty much anything," he gloated subtly, with a twirl of his hand, "I could even give you several hundred dollars after this is over, just to prove a point. Or a thousand, maybe? Several thousand?" Stop.
"I just hope you won't spend it all on cigarettes, but... You know. It's only the most rational approach. People like money, and that includes the bureaucracy. The government tends to starve them of it, so the officials are all a bit desperate for a little extra cash anyways... How about that? Is that a reasonable alternative to the plot I... Uh... Suggested earlier? Sir?"
finally, I'm out of follow-up hell for today. local old man dies inside again, but it's not over crime!!
“I doubt this will matter to you, since we’ve run into each other so many times - against my will, mind you - that the memory of this will inevitably get wiped by whatever else you have in store, but… The problem is that I lost my planner, and I absolutely neeeeeeeeeeeed that for my day-to-day routine! It’s been stolen and vandalized a few times in the past, but I think the thief behind that isn’t responsible this time. I haven’t even seen him around lately, so… Uhhh… I swore I left it alone for a moment, and then it was gone. I bet you stole it, but you’d be terrible at hiding it from my experience, so-”
Shut up. A monologue when a simple sentence would have sufficed makes you sound desperate.
But to be fair, at least Smithson was perfectly fucking aware that this plea made him look like the most desperate bitch in the world? He rolled his eyes at the young woman’s response before quickly stepping away from her, holding a hand up to her as if he wanted her to just… Stop. Stop what exactly, though? It didn’t matter; the more, the merrier with this asshole.
“You’re not the only one with time constraints, so get off that high horse,” the arrogant aristocrat hissed - as if he really, really wanted the right to say “fuck” or “shit,” but… Alas. Smithson got no such right. Good for him? With a shake of his head, he continued walking farther away from her while just barely listening to what she was saying.
Wait one fucking second. Why get her enmeshed into this business if you’re going to whine like a little bitch and now accept her help, “need to not look desperate” aside?
This better not be a snipe hunt, old man…
Or a thinly veiled attempt to waste her time and ditch her (at the cost of his planner), for that matter, as he continued to shuffle away from the scene- Oh. Never mind.
Poor Smithson had no idea whether to feel relief or utter disappointment when he heard the other exclaiming where the planner was. Wait. He looked up and saw the roosted Skarmory, and he immediately died inside. That… Wasn’t his wife’s bird, right? She never had it out unless as a mount, or unless she was battling- He took a single step closer while helplessly watching the other climb without any problems… Apparently? That was kind of weird, considering that Smithson knew from experience that the species tended to be aggressive, but whatever. If she could have five cats and two kids, she might as well be some fucking whisperer at this point.
“That’s great,” he told her when she handed out the planner to him, before… Just fucking snatching it. Rude? At least thank her, you dumb bitch.
It's none of my business, Kuraru always tell himself when ever there was something not so urgent like people missing things and an argument that does not involve him in any way. But this one is an exception...how would anyone not give ones a hand of their cats went missing? Cats! Who knows what could happen to those poor felines out of range. Not to mention the hounds out the streets and such...to him, this need to be solved as soon as possible.
"Sure...of course, I will help." He answered to the help needed call before silently takes out a note pad and scribbles something "...So... how do they look like? What species are they...size?" He poured a few questions regarding the cats, specific informations and stuff. Doesn't seem it would help since the informations he asked aren't visual, but he know his way around this.
After he noted down the information, Kuraru nodded then take away the pad. "Where did you saw them last?" Now that's more like it...although still not a likely question to ask about given that cats does not stay in place like objects. But just with those information he just closed his eyes and mumbled something, then look at the other again "..I may got an idea of where they are...if my analysis is correct."
---
Oh no, Kuraru forgot it's his room mate's birthday...normally he doesn't really care about it really but he just really wanted to thank her for saving him the other day. Maybe find some gift for her? She might like some pastry...maybe...
"Wait, you forgot your roommate's birthday?" repeated Rochester with a nearly condescending drawl in her voice, "How... How did you even do that? Can you even consider her a roommate if you pull this on her? This shit? How would she feel about that?" Her chiding persisted for a few more seconds as she spat a series of curses under her breath for that interval, but... Then, for whatever reason, it suddenly faded as she allowed the teenager to walk however he wanted; whether he lingered by her side, lagged behind, or stomped his way forward meant nothing to her...
He's just a fucking kid, after all. You shouldn't be so harsh on him about this - just saying!
With a sigh and the slightest gesticulation of her hands, the older woman continued, "Besides... She saved your ass the other day. You think she would take this slight against her well? Not that it matters, but... You know..." She paused for a moment as she allowed the clicking of her boots to come to a stop. "Wait one fucking second," the middle-aged woman hissed ever so slightly under her breath, "Wait one. Fucking. Second." Don't be an asshole about it?
Still, there was no use denying that the woman's gaze was directed at a bakery sign. To be fair, she didn't even care that much about pastries, and he did ask for a pastry as a gift to be given to his friend as repayment, so... At least she was being useful?
"Personally, I would recommend a fruit tart for her," Rochester mused aloud while eyeing the display of pastries posed oh-so prominently at the windows, for any passerby to see... After all, anyone was a potential customer if you were suave enough with your advertising, right? And it appeared that said advertising worked on Rochester as she gazed at a tart adorned with strawberries, blueberries, and kiwi slices- Wait one fucking second. Rubbing her chin, she sighed almost dreamily, "Fruit always provides a splash of color to an otherwise brown dessert, from my experience. Sure, blown is the color of decadence, but would you really want to give her something that bland? Not to mention the fact that fruit can add the complexity she might appreciate if she has an ounce of culinary expertise..."
She batted her lashes and took a step towards the window, huffing in a rougher voice than before, "... Though, of course... Since I am the financially independent one here... I should be the one paying, huh?" Rochester paused for a moment, then shrugged. "That is... Fine by me. I might have to be the one who talks to the baker too, if you keep staring like that..." Oh. Great. Her gaze at him sharpened in that moment. "... And by the way, I will buy an extra fruit tart for myself. As a treat."
Imagine being an asshole over a fruit tart? But in a way, Rochester did see her slight demand as worthwhile; after all, she could've been finishing up on her study on the migration patterns of geese, yet... She ended up here. Great. Hopefully the bakery's pastries are decent enough to compensate...
Rochester, having the faintest semblance of morals? it's more likely than you think. follow-up time.
The more she stared at the conniving sneer on the other’s face, the more she regretted this arrangement. Maybe she should just be honest and upfront, then hope that her associate wasn’t in the mood to slit her throat from ear to ear?
With a shudder, Rochester leaned back in her seat and grunted at the other, “Well, I cannot make that judgment if all you do is brag about your fucking so-called ‘talents’ or whatnot. How about you get to the point and start focusing on what you actually do right, huh? I think that it would make this easier for the both of us, mm?” She chewed on her lip while sighing and listening to his story about how he ran into a “similar situation” not too long ago.
Okay, fine. So he did have experience.
Maybe.
But her case was getting urgent - and as Rochester shifted her gaze over to the analog clock over them every so often, the older woman couldn’t help but become the tiniest bit impatient. All of this shit, and… For what again? To show off?
Ignoring the hypocrisy that was kicking her ass in a very real way at the moment, Rochester just nodded and huffed, “I see. So… What about it? I wanted an excuse, a reasonable alibi. Not…” She pointed a hand in his direction. “... Whatever the fuck you just told me.” Gee. Thanks-
“Is that booze?” Rochester suddenly asked when he pulled out a bottle from his bag. The almost clear liquid sloshed around inside, a lot like water, and yet… Rochester drew her lip back slightly. Was she going to get her associate drunk? She didn’t even know if they were much of a drinker; that was how detached and cutthroat politics could be at times - though in hindsight, the poor woman thought of herself as nobody more than a fool for that particular oversight.
She took a sharp breath when he implied that she should be - what… Faking her own death? Her skin paled before she lifted her hands up in the air. Sure, it wasn’t like she only consumed virgin drinks during her forty-something years of life, but the alcohol she consumed was always something mild and fruity, like… Cocktails.
Not. Fucking. Vodka.
“Wait, you want me to do that?” Rochester asked when he brought up the… Other purposes of hauling a whole ass bottle of vodka around. Pausing for a moment, she took the container from it and thumbed the glass. “Huh. I prefer not to be the one kicking other people’s asses, but shit…” Another pause. “I could get my girlfriend to do this.” What the fuck? Why didn’t you ask her for her help then?
She rolled her eyes at the shift in his tone, commentign wryly, “Oh, for fuck’s sake… It’s not like I have not gone to a different city before. I left my home when I was a young woman, then went from there. I could do it again, but-” Her stomach churned at the idea. Maybe not, then? Biting on her lip once more, Rochester added more carefully, “But… Yes, I get what you mean. I just doubt as to whether political prosecution is a valid motive for moving so far away...”
(he doesn't go into detail, but just a warning that he mentions a few murder methods)
Rashad smiled when he heard the challenge presented to him.
"You need help coming up with lies? You came to the right person. What you just described is what I've been doing for my whole life. In fact, I've been in a very similar situation to yours not too long ago. I believe it was a few months ago. I didn't pay my bills because I thought that my money was better spent on twelve cases of Russian Standard vodka for me and my friends. I was given a warning that I would be evicted if I continued to avoid paying my bills. Then, I made up a sob story about how my uncle Aziz on my mother's side recently died from a heart attack, and my whole family was so shaken up by his death that we couldn't concentrate on anything else, including bills. It turns out that the guy I spoke to was so soft and emotional that I managed to buy myself a significant amount of extra time. I could've sworn that he actually cried while I told the story. It was hilarious."
He clasped his hands together. "Obviously, my uncle Aziz didn't really have a heart attack. You see, he's not even a real person. My mother was an only child, so I have no uncles or aunts on her side. Brilliant, right? Although, if he was real, it would've made that experience much more spicy and fun. I kind of wish he was, looking back on it. His death would've given me an excuse not to pay my bills, and I would've gotten his inheritance money. Would have killed two birds with one stone. Well, more like three birds, him included."
Rashad reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of Russian Standard.
"Only one of my close friends, Ibrahim, is really a heavy drinker, so naturally we didn't finish all of the vodka we bought. I think this would come in very useful to you. Now, I don't expect you to get blackout drunk off of this. I advise against it, actually. I just thought it would be a good 'plan B' in case the first idea - coming up with a fake family member and pretending that you've been consumed by grief over their 'death' - doesn't work. It's a very real possibility, seeing as plan A will only last you so long, and push will eventually come to shove when concerning things like avoiding payments. What you could do is throw the vodka on whoever is bugging you, and then promptly throw a lighter on them, setting them on fire. You could also bash them in the back of the head with the bottle, most likely giving them a concussion that they will never fully recover from. Feel free to get creative. And if that doesn't work, you could just flee your city."
Rashad's expression unexpectedly shifted to one that resembled that of a cool surfer dude at the beach. His tone changed accordingly as well. "I know that might sound challenging, leaving your city behind. I had to do the same when I entered my adulthood, moving from Lankaran to Ganja. And just a few years ago, I moved across continents and went to Miami. But that's what life's all about - confronting challenges. When life gets you down, you just have to face it head-on, you know what I mean?"
--
The weather in Miami is usually warm year-round, but this year has been strangely cold. Rashad needs help warming up so that he doesn't get hypothermia - something he was grudgingly used to back when he lived in Azerbaijan. Your OC will likely have to put up with him smiling disturbingly at them, though.