mattersverymuch | 17 ɂ text & spam & video

spam } roundabout

[There are two rats. Neither of them have names but what are known to themselves, and both of them were, until recently, terrifically annoyed at being removed from their perfectly amenable existence and deposited on the Barge, where there are no other rats and also no real gravity (the kind that exists they don't wholly believe in).]

[After a significant period of negotiation, a deal has been struck: they will stay, for the purposes of errands, company, and general nuisancing, in exchange for food and protection. As such, the marquis de Carabas has placed a charm on them, so that should anyone or anything threaten them, they grow to twice the size of the threat.]

[They run around on their own a decent portion of the time, but it's more energy-efficient to ride with the marquis, so he can be seen more or less everywhere he goes with a rat on his shoulder or in one of his multitudinous pockets. The CES is a dimly-lit forest when he visits, drifting mist obscuring one's view of the path ahead, and he consults with them on the most interesting direction in which to proceed. On deck, they run the railing ahead of him and pause to criticize the others on board with their beady eyes. In the halls, they scuttle from door to door underfoot, tails twitching, seeking out shadows. In the gardens, he tends to the beehive in a distant sort of way and will definitely not tell anyone how he knows how to do this. The rats keep away in his pocket for this period, because they were not born yesterday, thank you.]

private } snow

[Someone is a terrific mood. Which, lately, makes him contemplative.]

Your gift was useful. ["Thank you." Still can't say it.]

spam } dean

[Congratulations, Dean, there's a rat in your room. The slightly smaller one, not that you'll probably be able to tell the difference. Don't ask how it got in. Just don't.]

[Currently it's sitting on the bedside table, perfectly sedate, as if waiting for something. Which it is.]

video } public

[The aforementioned rats are sitting both on one shoulder, looking with an air of intense disapproval at the communicator. Technology: fuck it. The marquis looks amused at their annoyance, as he generally does whenever anybody is annoyed about anything. At least it's friendly amusement.]

What's always baffled me about this place is how inorganic it is. No - pests. [One of them looks at him with extreme displeasure. He shrugs. What?] An ordinary ship would pick something up at port, especially with all the cargo taken on. Even for a ship that's not technically a ship, enough other things come on board - entire alternate universes, for example - this level of sterility is impractically perfect.

And boring.

At least there are bees now.

( ooc; THERE IS A BEEHIVE IN THE GARDENS NOW, I JUST FORGOT TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT, THE MARQUIS AND THE EMPEROR STOLE A BEEHIVE. yep. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hey! What the hell, you so-...

No. Absolutely not. I am not taking this from a rodent.

[Dean begins looking around, but he's cleaned recently; the only thing available is the trash can and it's full. He's about to consider it anyway, when several pieces fall into place at once and his eyes narrow.

In the next moment he has his communicator out, sending off a text to the Marquis while glaring at the rat.]

Are you missing something?

[The marquis receives this text and takes a few minutes to laugh deeply, slap his knee, generally engender merriment. Then he sends a text back.]

:) :) :) :) :)

[Meanwhile, the rat is kicking the sand into a delightful nest shape.]

[There's a considerable pause. Dean stares at the text, then stares at the rat, and then the text, and then decides he's not taking this from a slick sonnuvabitch, either.

The next message that pops up on the Marquis' communicator from his neighbor is a picture message. It is an overturned plastic trash can, normally situated beside Dean's writing desk, with disturbed salt kicked out around the upside down rim.

The subject is :)]

[Okay, this is slightly less funny. The marquis takes his rats seriously, if only because if harm comes to them he'll owe them. That, and he already promised that Dean wouldn't do anything to them. This isn't technically damaging, but they might not see it that way.]

[Rats are little prisses sometimes.]

[Knock, knock, you asshole.]

[No, this is hilarious, and this is why:

Dean opens the door at once, smiling broadly despite the narrowness of his eyes, and steps back to allow entrance. His voice is full of exaggerated, pleased surprise.]

Sunshine! How unexpected.

[The trash can is turned up against a wall, exactly how it was in the picture.

The rat has moved busily on to the contents of one of the space under Dean's bathroom sink.

The hunter's smile fades.] Just what did I do to you, or not do to you, today?

[Wow. Whaaaat a douche. The marquis gives him an unimpressed look.]

[Only it's not entirely unimpressed, because that was actually pretty good. Somewhat unimpressed, largely displeased, begrudgingly congratulatory.]

[He looks at the rat. The rat looks at him. He raises his eyebrows. The rat does not go to him.]

[He has been abandoned. Woe betide him, et cetera.]

[He looks back up at Dean, all wounded innocence. It doesn't really work on his face.]

I didn't realize you were so squeamish. She only wanted to say hello.

[Dean mirrors the look back, except that he is sincerely pleased with himself; even moreso when the marquis and the rat exchange looks and he is spurned. The hunter almost laughs.

Then he notices the uncomfortable expression going on beside him and, eyebrows drawing together in concern - de Carabas might injure himself or somehow scar himself whilst imitating anathema, like a demon holding iron - pulls his head back.]

Yeah, well, I don't speak rat. Did you happen to warn her about that?

Or just tell her I'm an idiot?

[He's still calling her Splinter.]

[Why wouldn't you speak rat? the marquis wants to ask, but unfortunately most people don't. The state of public education these days, it give him the vapors.

I did inform her you're an idiot. I don't know that words can really convey the depths of it, though.

Did he go above and beyond your expectations?

[The rat, now known as Splinter, ignores him. Spurned again.]

Yeah, well, who's more the idiot - the idiot, or the people that try to save him from his own idiocy.

[But Dean is gloating now, turning the situation around from one of annoyance to one of amusement with the rat's antics at the core of each. The hunter is delighted to have a partner in annoying the Marquis, even aware as he is that it could change again at a moment's notice.]

She's got awesome taste. You should take notes.

[Dean, shut up, that barely makes sense. He is being insulted on all fronts. All fronts. He gives Dean a flat look.]

Or you're just sociopathically charming.

[Damn, that was almost a compliment.]

It's been said. I think.

[Dean just smiles beatifically in the face of that look, rubbing his enjoyment of it directly back in his friend's face.

Because that is, after all, what friends are for.]

C'mon. As long as she doesn't touch me, I'll be happy to get her something better to eat than beer bottles. And you can steal my breadsticks. It's spaghetti day.

You think?

[Come on, Dean. Who complimented you like that? What a liar, and the marquis is jealous he didn't get to it first. I mean what.]

Why would she touch you? You don't smell right.

[At that, at least, the rat looks up. And the marquis looks smug.]

I think. [~~He's not quite sure what sociopathically means but someone, somewhere has probably said something synonymous, okay?~~

He rolls his eyes at both of them, addressing the rat.]

I'll have you know that if you'll just try smelling left you'll find I'm just fine.

Sunshine, let's roll.

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