poly_chromatic | 015 :: Video/Action

[Crowley has found himself a canal-side seat at a cafe and is watching the passers-by with no small interest. Just under him, a small flotilla of ducks has gathered, and occasionally he tosses one a bit of biscuit. Usually they don't even sink, he must be in a good mood.

As it turns out, his attention seems much more focused on the people who pass by and particularly those who navigate around a corner by his table. Why? Because for some reason that particular corner seems to be very slippery.

That's the fourth citizen to tumble into the canal this morning and he's recording it all for posterity: the initial slip, the flailing arms grasping for something to arrest the fall, the teetering right at the brink over the canal's murky water, and finally, the resoundingly satisfying splash followed by the sound of a single demon's sardonic applause.]

Well done, you.

[He adjusts his camera to provide a slow motion replay of the entire tumble before he sets it down to record the next ~~victim~~ poor soul.]

[ooc: come take a tumble or have lunch with Crowley or berate him for his schadenfreude and poor taste in pranks?]

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[Now. Somebody saw the goings-on going on on the Network. And somebody had an idea. Because, you know, it's all well and good to applaud a splendid dive (or whatever), but sometimes things really ought to be ranked.

Hence the reason this particular dude (not slipping at all in his favorite beat-up boots, thank you very much) has come around to this canal-side cafe table with a stack of large white cards under his arm.]

Hi! I saw the show on the Network, thought I might get an eyeful in person.

Mind if I join you?

[You know, it's true that Crowley can't tell the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness from a standard human baby, but sometimes, you look at a guy's smile, and you just have to give a nice crazed grin in return and push the chair opposite out with a foot.]

It's a table for two. Just don't yell "watch out" and we'll be fine.

[It's good to know you have at least some sense of, I don't know, decency or responsibility or something.]

Perish the thought.

[And he sits, shuffling that set of sizable cards in his lap. Yes, good. He seems content with this stack of cards. Indeed, it seems he has set a second set on the table.]

Here. They never have just one judge, you know? Makes the system unfair. It'll be better with two.

[The cards are helpfully and clearly numbered one to ten, with half-points in between.]

The way a figure, it's not enough just to broadcast the event. There's got to be some kind of ranking for the best. It's not a performance, it's a competition.

[This man has a plan. This man has a plan and this plan is a plan of which Crowley approves. He snags the cards and pulls them over to his side of the table.]

I'll post rankings at the end of the curse.

[Oh yes, enjoy ladies and gentlemen and beings of all other natures, as we have a beautiful specimen of the harried woman in suit and stiletto pumps.]

[This man often has a plan. It doesn't always work out, but he often has a plan.]

Good, good. I'm looking forward to seeing who comes out on top.

[Oh, look at her go...teetering along. Yes, go go go...

And, behold, one dangerously dainty heel slips aside, her ankle buckles, and away she goes~ A sideways sort of fall. It would almost be reminiscent of Esther Williams. You know...if it were graceful at all.

But the flailing is impressive. As is the splash.

And he quietly holds up a card:]

6.5

[Crowley watches her slide, tongues an imaginary bit of something out of his teeth, and finally shakes his head before holding up his own scorecard.]

4.0

Not even a good shriek to go with it.

Oh, are shrieks part of the judging criteria? Okay, okay. I didn't know we were going with Continental Criteria here. My mistake. I'm used to the American system--more based on the aesthetics of the flail and partial credit for splashing. Shrieks, then. I can't retract my score, but, hey, next time.

[Oh, look. Here comes next time. The "gym rat," as he is so often known, jogging along in his sleeveless shirt, with his faithful golden retriever dog running at his side. Those shoes look pretty grippy...and yet...perhaps... You get too much water under the tires of a car and you'll get a skid too, you know.

Observe the forward slide of his foot, propelling forward rather than sideways. A variation on a theme...]

What? Tch, Americans. We're looking for the total package here.

[Crowley sets his tea aside to avoid being distracted and nods approvingly at the squeak of skidding-rather-than-gripping rubber, but the gym rat seems ready to put all those hours spent honing his balance on a bosu ball to good use, catching himself and seemingly saving himself from the fall.

Until...

Until his dog's paw catches a mossy patch on the cobbles sending the retriever into a graceless wobble that would make even a newborn colt snicker.

His path collides with that of his owner, sending the man off the side of the path into the water with a yell that is probably his dog's name, while the dog finishes its skid forward and off into the water with nary a yelp.

Crowley muses, shuffles through his cards, and finally holds up a card.]

8.0

[A shuffle, a flutter.]

7.5

I won't argue, it was pretty impressive, but I wish the dog hadn't gone in so willingly. Maybe if it weren't a retriever. Good splash, though. And nice shout.

I would have given an additional half a point if it had been leashed.

[Oh, but this... Does Crowley spy the piece de resistance? Is that a preschool group on an outing. Little children holding onto a rope with handles with hovering handlers.]

[Yes, Crowley, you do. And your companion and fellow judge is sliding down in his seat as he tries to hide his slightly unhinged giggles behind his stack of cards.

Oh children. Oh. Children. Do be careful. Do, please, be careful...]

[Crowley's grin simply widens until one might expect his jaw to unhinge like that of a snake.

The children hop and skip and one occasionally lets go of the rope's handle before being ushered back into line by a chaperone.

At first it seems they might escape unscathed. Perhaps some miracle has dried up the slick spot at that corner. The lead chaperone makes it around the corner followed by her charges before a stir starts in the middle of the line. One child skids and flails with one hand, the other still desperately clutching the rope's handle.

With a child's unselfconsciousness, his, "whoa oh ohhhh" fills the air while the other kids squeal, their squeals turning to shrieks as he overbalances and tumbles into the canal, taking the children in front of and behind him along for a swim. The fall spreads out ahead and behind until there is an entire preschool in the canal, followed by the chaperones, one of whom goes in willingly for a rescue, while the other two slip and tumble.

The canal is now preschool soup.

Crowley raises his scorecard.]

10

[There is a garbled, nonsensical sound of excitement from the other side of the table.

And the maker of the sound immediately whips out a pen. And so:]

11

This one goes to eleven.

[That deserves a cigarette. After a light golf clap, Crowley pulls out a cigarette and lights up.]

Sometimes you just have to make your own entertainment. A.J. Crowley, nice to meet you.

Rory Fletcher. Good to meet you too, Mr. Crowley.

[...what went wrong in your head? Oh, Mr. Crowley, did you talk with the dead?]

It's a pleasure to meet someone who understands that sometimes you just have to take what the City gives you.

[Well...]

And maybe embellish just a little. The scorecards were just the right touch. Well done.

You know, I saw an opportunity and I just knew I had to take it. Or I'd regret it for ages after. I'm glad to meet someone who can appreciate that kind of embellishment. I think I'd go a little stir crazy if I didn't embellish things.

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