poly_chromatic | ♞ two :: i remember falling, i remember marching, like a one man army

[It's some fabulously obscene hour of the morning when Erik ~~bullies into life~~ fires up his network gadget and sets it on the counter in his kitchen to use as an impromptu webcam. His kitchen and living room are attached, so through the monitor one can see not only the front window with its curtains open, but the viva-la-whathehell going on below it.

Erik himself is leaning against the window and smoking, dressed from the day before like he hasn't been to sleep, and contemplating the unfolding scene with acerbic dispassion.]

Your City suffers from a poorly organized case of Revolution, it appears. [Capital letter audible.] Are we soldiering bravely on toward anything in particular, or have we lost one too many games of Risk?

[He smokes. Acerbically, or one of those other synonyms for 'dry' his typist is running through like Kleenex.]

Circumstances being what they are, this does strike me as the ideal time to mention I'm advertising my services as a locksmith. A profession coincidentally also often dealing with securities.

[Wouldn't it be comically inaccurate if this gave anybody the impression Erik was against bloody revolution as a means of affecting change.]

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[Ginny Weasley's something of a revolutionary herself, given that she helped lead an underground rebellion and all. That being said, she thinks what's happening outside—while understandable if it's against the deities—is messy and disorganised and probably won't end well. Hence the frown on her face.

Well, that, and her brother went home so she's just cranky all around. No one to crack rebellion jokes with that'll scold her for bringing up the war.]

It's a mess. And if they come towards any of my shops, I can't promise I won't hex them for property damage.

I like the way you think.

I'm not in the mood this week.

Neither am I. And I'm sorry about Percy. He was one of my best friends here.

Sorry he left without much of a goodbye, then.

Rightly so.

[He contemplates her from under his eyelashes.]

Ms. Weasley. [Trollingly:] I recognized the ginger in your voice.

That's a new one. I thought I've heard all there is about my hair.

[But seriously, Erik.]

[Erik looks briefly as if he might say something biting back, then just focuses on his cigarette for a minute instead.]

What would you prefer?

[It's a flat inquiry, he's not being solicitous. That would be too...well, too solicitous.]

I don't prefer anything.

[Someone's less than her usual self today and not without reason.]

I understand rebellions just fine, how can't I, but I can't see this one doing anything but making a mess.

♞ two :: i remember falling, i remember marching, like a one man army

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