… What sort of contract, may I ask?
…
Oh, I see. You’ll grant me a wish in exchange for my service as a… “Magical Girl” in fighting hordes of evil “Witches.”
… Excuse me if I doubt your claim.
(via hgme)
… The pure volume would be hard to achieve
unless
special bedsprings.
Being quite forward there aren’t you.
… And then?
… And after that?
(via volatile-self-obsessed)
How hilarious, Anon. I shall begin stripping immediately.
In all seriousness, though, things have been heating up around the castle as of late— an artificial heatwave- causes yet unknown- means that currently the average temperature around here is around 27 degrees Celsius.
Labcoats and such are no longer practical, I’m afraid.
Although, I’m a bit suprised—
Usually these problems are fixed within hours.
Missus?
… Baroness?
[He holds the loincloth up]
I think I have something that belongs to you?
Zantabraxus will do just fine.
And thank you, darling, I was wondering where those went.
[Takes them from him and smiles slyly]
Where did you get these anyway?
[Why oh why is the truth so odd and unlikely?]
Um, well, a gray-skinned construct of sorts rushed up and threw your… garments at me, and, er, well,
I have no idea where they came from, originally.
[admiring the ceiling is not helping his case, look the woman in the eye]
Perhaps they were stolen? or…
[Just. Looming. Not at all impressed, either.
Wooster you have so much splainin’ to do.]
[Sweet weasels, how does he explain. He might be a super british spy but that is the Baron who could flatten him with a hand who’s wife he is returning underwear to-]
[he clears his throat]
ThisisapurecoincidenceIswearIammerelybeingagoodpersonandreturningthearticleofclothingtoitscorrectowner.
[If worst comes to worst, he decides that the window is a viable escape option. Never mind the height.]
Missus?
… Baroness?
[He holds the loincloth up]
I think I have something that belongs to you?
Zantabraxus will do just fine.
And thank you, darling, I was wondering where those went.
[Takes them from him and smiles slyly]
Where did you get these anyway?
[Why oh why is the truth so odd and unlikely?]
Um, well, a gray-skinned construct of sorts rushed up and threw your… garments at me, and, er, well,
I have no idea where they came from, originally.
[admiring the ceiling is not helping his case, look the woman in the eye]
Perhaps they were stolen? or…