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Salvation Lost : Sins of Salvation -> The Town Square -> Like a thief in the night...
Post Info TOPIC: Like a thief in the night...
Baroness DuMorne


Demonic Nobility

Posts: 53
Date: Dec 8, 2008
Like a thief in the night...
Permalink Closed

The boring humdrum of the party wrapped itself around her like a cocoon. It was everything an elite social gathering was supposed to be. The music was soft and tasteful. The food rich. The wine excellent. Everyone in attendance was a upper crust. There were a whole lot of men whose names had a The in there. The Second, The Third, The Fourth. Although why someone would intentionally name all the male children in a family, the same name, Rowan didn't even want to know. It was probably a nod to the sheer lack of originality of some people. That or all that breeding left the blood a little thin. Made remembering things hard when barely any oxygen got to the brain.  It was a typical party, set in a typical ballroom at an ancient, and incredibly expensive hotel, and Rowan felt positively at home.  Change ball room to yacht club, and change diamonds and silk to pearls and polo shirts and sweater sets and...it was like being nine again, attending a party thrown at a country club. She wasn't supposed to be there, it was way past her bedtime, but getting a babysitter again and missing on a chance to show off their little pride and joy? Her parents couldn't have that.  Yet now was not the time to dwell on the past. Rowan was out touring the social circuit for a reason. Even if her name wasn't on the guest list, and she didn't use the door to get in.

Dressed in red silk, Rowan slid through the crowd like a shark through chum. Ignoring the smaller bits in favor of chunks she could really sink her teeth into. Picking wallets and slipping of off old ladies was fun. It kept her hands nimble and helped pass the time between bites of miniature keishes and sips of the bubbly. With a new set of pearls, and a diamond ring big enough to sink a ship, Rowan  discreetly tossed the three wallets (now empty of anything useful to her) into a potted plant, and decided that finally she could induldge in a drink. That's where she spotted Marciano Bochelli. Real Eastate developer and womanizer of Roman proportions. A man who clearly figured out the sure fire way to a woman's heart. Hint. It wasn't candy and flowers. With a figure that looked like it belonged at home on a penguin, and a ruddy, sweaty face, the man was using his god given wealth to become a cliched Don Juan. Using his money rather than charm, and wit, and brains to score. And from the looks of things, wife number five, or was it six?, didn't seem too impressed with his obvious ogling of all things female in the room. Well, either that, or wife number five/six just had it with her drink and figured the best place to put it would be all over Marciano's face.

And where that would have angered any sane human being. He merely laughed it off. Cleaning his face off with a napkin while waving his hand in that manner which when loosely translated was  "women eh?" What's worse, Rowan noticed a few men nodding in painted agreement with the arrogance that only men, who didn't know shit about women, seemed to be capable off. He was perfect.  With her best "come hither" smile on her red, red lips, Rowan positively gilded up to the bar, sighing elegantly while flashing him cleavage and offering a handkerchief with which to clean his face. And just like that, the bit of chum was snagged out of the bloody water.

It didn't take nearly as much effort as Rowan would have though. A little
flirting. A little stroking of the ego, and a subtle hint that she wasn't
wearing any underwear, and Marciano was all but grunting and pounding his chest as he described the wonders of his life. His home. His Cars. His illustrious accomplishments in the world. His bedroom. The night ended with his card and his private number in her purse. A promise that she would indeed call him, because he was just So cute! Once she found her phone of course. Silly things always got away from her, could you belive it? Third one this month alone! It was a surprisingly easy line to sell. Maybe it was the blonde wig, and the brown contacts that made the act of a hapless blonde thing with a flowy British accent, so belivable.

Or maybe it was the lack of blood in his brain, the world may never know.  

The rest of the plan was easy enough to put together. The blueprints were on record. Marciano's own design, copy righted and online for anyone to access. Information technology, man's greatest gift to the world. The tricky part was getting Marciano OUT of the house when she wanted him gone. Rowan had a few options open to her. Pop in and knock him out. Pop in and kill him. Or take a risk and work around him. Too many variables existed with each plan. Simplest solution was to trick him out.

Leaning back in the driver's seat, Rowan slipped out a cell pre-paid cell phone. Marciano picked up on the third ring, a cautious hello on the other end. Her lips quirked into a wicked grin as she pictured him frowning at the unknown number, wondering who the hell was calling him in the middle of the night. Shockingly it was the bird from the party the other night. Imagine that, she was thinking about him, all alone in her hotel room. But that was too forward wasn't it, she really shouldn't have called, he probably thinks she's and idiot, better hang up now.

Wait. What's that? He didn't think she was an idiot? He couldn't stop thinking about her too? Well fancy that. Maybe he could come over? Have a drink with her? After all, she's just feeling so alone, in a town where she doesn't know anyone...Half hour? He could get there that quickly? Excellent, she'll be waiting.

It took him the better part of five minutes to get out of the house. Rowan counted the seconds between the slam of the door, and the roar of the engine as he pulled some over stylized sports monstrosity out of the garage. Rowan couldn't see it, but she imagined flames shooting out of the tail pipes. Both of them. Chrome plated.  Ugh. As the roar of the engine began to die down, Rowan got out of her own car. Jumping up and down just to hear the gravel crunch under her feet. Just because she knew that if he did have security guards watching the property, the odds of them catching her were slim to none.

---

Getting inside the house was as easy as a snap of fingers. A gesture Rowan stopped performing ages ago when she figured out that all she had to do was think about where she wanted to appear. Took all of a split second to do that. The interior of the house proved to be as generic as the blueprints. It was like build and decorate by numbers. It was no Italian Villa, but a pale nod to Roman architecture. It was probably the columns that clued her in. The rest was pure formula. Expensive wood work, marble, leather furniture and Persian rugs. It's like the man took a page out of what a player mansion was supposed to look like. Money and luxury screaming from every surface. No wonder his current wife drank. Just staring at the rich, saturated colors everywhere without a bit of empty wall space to break up the visual onslaught, she felt downright nauseous. Didn't mean she wasn't going to go shopping here. Just because the decor sucked didn't mean there weren't treasures to be found.

The bedroom was her first stop. No one was there, not surprisingly. Rowan doubted Mrs. Number Six, would have stuck around when she could just blow her husband's money elsewhere. That'd show him...or something. But the jewelry box was there waiting for her. Watches, diamonds. The wall safe had cash. His combination was his birth year, which he had written on a piece of paper stuffed in aforementioned jewelry box. But it all felt so lacking, so empty, so...cliche. There was no fun

And there it was. in Merciano's office, shining like a beacon of hope in the night. Or at least something that cost a lot of money. Expensive things had a glow all their own. It was usually green, tinged with something sparkly. Rowan never told anyone that's how she perceived the things that she coveted. People tended to look at you funny when you said you saw things that way. It could have just been perception fueled by greed, but the point remained. There it was and she wanted it. Problem was, the egg was in a shell, so to speak. The Plexi glass case, stood a neat 12"x12" inches, atop of a pedestal which was rigged with pressure and vibration censors. Which meant a smash'n'grab job was out. Not that Rowan would have even lowered herself to something so crass. Yes, immediate violence had it's uses, but it was just so...layman. So there she was, looking at the precious darling through a layer of glass. A slow smile of eagerness, not unlike a child's on Christmas morning, slid across her lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a song began. Something pop and upbeat, her own personal background music as she moved to stand in front of the case. Fingers twitching as she withdrew a tube of glowing cream.

The acid was a glorious invention. It didn't cost much and the results were always assured. Reaching to the top, she set a small rubber suction cup in the center of the lid. Using it as a center point while drawing a circle with the tube on the glass. Immediately the sizzle began. There was no smell, or even smoke. The acid simply ate through the material, and just before the now neat circular piece of glass had a chance to fall. Rowan grabbed the top of the suction cup and gently lifted the glass away. "Ta Da! And for my next trick..." Reaching inside, she kept her hand steady, ever mindful of the glowing blue paste that slowly dried on the edges of the opening. One more inch and fingers wrapped around the diamond and ruby encrusted egg. Faster than was proper (screw savoring moments of victory) Rowan withdrew the prize, cuddling it to herself as she moved away from the display case. "Awww my precious!"  And it was. The stones gleamed happily at her, just before Rowan shoved the egg into a silk satchel and in turn, tucked it inside her jacket.

The alarms remained silent. Which was fine, but Rowan no longer needed the stealth.  With her prizes safely tucked away. Her getaway clear, she felt like leaving with a bang. Every thief will tell you that true test of their skill was leaving no traces behind when doing a job. The point was mystery. Get in, do the job, get out. Bada bing, bada bang. Simple and easy. It was a moto, among with Don't double cross your partners (unless they double cross your first) and don't trust a thief. Those didn't really apply to Rowan, she didn't trust anyone anyway. But the whole not leaving a trace part...

Sometimes it was nice to make people scratch their heads. Do something and then make a mistake on purpose, make the cops or who ever came sniffing, wonder about the why? Why go through all that trouble to mess up at the end? Like say, trip the alarm? It was annoying really. Some of the world's greatest thefts went unnoticed by the outside world. Unless something important was stolen. Or expensive, or dangerous.  Most of the time the thefts became something for the insurance companies to handle. Boring. Plus Rowan knew that a man like Marciano wouldn't breath a word of this to the cops if he didn't have to. His pride wouldn't allow him to admit he'd been scammed. He'd hire someone from the Black side of the private security center. Have them retrieve the goods, if they could find them. Then kill the culprit, and that would be the end of that.  Rowan didn't pick Marciano because she was in need of money. She was, but that was just a bonus.  She picked him because he irritated her. A little piss ant who got lucky and now treated the world and those in it like his personal toys. Like his wives. Pretty, shiny things that lasted a year at most, and then were thrown away in favor of a new model.   He was dirt and he didn't deserve a peace of mind. If no one knew about the theft, he could learn to forget it. Move on. Where was the fun in that?

After double checking her belongings to make sure she wasn't missing anything, Rowan simply plucked a book off one of the shelves, and after taking careful aim, she launched the thing back at the one time Plexi glass home of the Faberge Egg. What happened next was spectacular. The book, a leather bound thing about a Napoleon (it looked like an original 1st printing) hit the glass with a resounding thud. The force, sent the glass edifice shifting backwards, which in turn triggered the sensors, which in turn...The shrill whine of the alarm went up in away seen only in Zombie movies. When the Zombie escapes and all hell breaks lose, even though it's too late. The undead cat was out of the bag. Rowan smiled, taking a moment to savor the fanfare. It was while acrid smelling smoke began to filter into the room through the grates in the floor, that Rowan realized just how far she had overstayed her welcome.

Still she couldn't help but coo over the Road Runner style trap. Knock out gas, to trap the thieves, that kicked in once the alarm was triggered. Had the thieves been of the conventional kind, it might have worked, but Rowan was anything but conventional. With  a split second thought, she willed herself to the other room, and from there to another. And then to another, till she was standing outside of the house, hidden within the shadows of the shrubbery wall. The entire trip took less than a few seconds. A mundane thief would have been down and out within ten seconds. Giving herself a well deserved pat on the back, Rowan grinned at no one in particular and promptly teleported her happy ass across the garden to where she left her car.

After unzipping her jacket, and stuffing her new goodies under the back seat, Rowan slipped off the cap. Shaking out her hair as she let the night's breeze ruffle it properly into a mess of someone who had a very good time that evening. With a slightly smudged lipstick, and dark circles of mascara under her blue eyes, she quickly got into her car, and started the engine.

With her headlights off, The Baroness, coasted for a few feet, till the gravel of the small side path turned into the solid surface of a road. Gunning the engine, Rowan flicked on the lights, flooding the world in front of her in bright white light and promptly put the pedal to the metal, and headed in the direction of the approaching sirens. Because what thief would go towards the authorities?

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Bringer of Death


Effing God Moder

Posts: 33
Date: Dec 10, 2008
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"I am not made of money."

"Well of course not. You are Human, a composition-"

"It's a modern expression Varrick. I mean that I can not afford to keep doing what we're doing. The whole, dining out, purchasing suits...I don't have the funds." Percival chose his words carefully, knowing how it could be to explain something to someone to whom nothing was impossible.

"I thought that little card was proof of your honor to repay the debts we have incurred. Do they not believe you honorable?" Varrick knew Percival to be an honorable man. At least, he had been. He hadn't found him in the most tasteful of establishments, after all. But he still believed him to be honorable. Percival shook his head, a pained expression crossing his features.

"There is only a certain amount the company believes I am capable of repaying. It is not a limitless amount."

"Ah. I see." Finally Percival smiled, nodding. Yes, he understood.

"Good. We're just going to have to figure something out, I suppose. I don't think anyone will hire you, unfortunately, for a any kind of job because of your history. Or lack of, rather."

At those words, Varrick became a bit indignant, sitting straighter in his seat. They were at the small table that Percival used for dining in his small compartment he boarded in. "I have more history than a full generation of Humans!"

"I merely meant modern job history, my lord."

"Oh." Varrick sat back, a smile crossing his lips. "I suppose I can't put commander of the armies of the People for that, can I?"

Percival let out a chuckle, and shook his head. "Not at all." After a moment's contemplation, Varrick settled back into his seat, lacing his fingers across his stomach.

"Do humans still covet the precious metals and gems very much? Like gold, and diamonds and the like?"

"Of course. Why?" Percival stood, making his way to the kitchette to pour himself some more coffee. A nagging suspicion was tugging at his mind, at the possible thoughts that would be passing through the Fae's skull.

"Well I suppose I could make some then. Alchemy is a mix of magic and logic, after all. Let me see...I will need as many of these worthless coins as you can obtain." The worthless coin that Varrick held aloft for example was a euro. Percival moved back to the table, retaking his seat with a sigh.

"For the last time Varrick, they're not worthless. They are a form of currency. This is a euro, and-"

"I care not for their denomination, only their composition." Varrick held up a hand as he interrupted, to stop the man from lecturing him on the value of the worthless coins once more. Percival eyed him a moment, but decided not to delve further into the mystery of why he needed the coins. Alchemy was explanation enough. He'd seen Merlyn and he change plenty of metals into different ones, for the making of weapons and amulets. but they had been in a properly suit lab. And so he was curious as to how Varrick planned to do so in his tiny apartment.

~~~~~

"What in the name of God have you done?!"

Varrick looked up at Percival's outburst. Apparently, he'd arrived home from his duties earlier than he'd expected. The door he had stepped through, one that normally led into his apartment, now led into an alchemist's lab. Of sorts, anyhow. It was very makeshift and haphazard, as Varrick was forced to make some of the equipment from other, similar materials he'd purchased or come upon in Percival's living quarters. He was not glamour'd as he worked, he had no energy to waste on that. And so the soot and grease that were on his hands and a bit on his neck stood out starkly against his white skin.

"Now calm yourself Percival, we won't have to look at this too terribly long, it's almost finished." Percival just stared at the large, alien looking contraption that engulfed most of the living room and all of the kitchen and dining room. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I've made some gold..." Varrick told him, offhandedly gesturing to a few bullions laying to his left, "And I am now doing the last bit, completing a diamond, with the help of my Hand, of course."

Percival moved and found one of his dining chairs, the only one that he could see that was mostly whole, except it was missing the back. He plopped down on the wood, looking to Varrick. "An illusion? How does that work?" Percival knew of his two hands, one Hand of Illusion, and one Hand of Echoes. "Won't it fade away after a short time?" He leaned forward, now more fascinated with the contraption than irritated.

"Well, my dear boy," Varrick continued to speak as he laid his hand on the giant, sphere-like bulb at the end of the machine. It looked like he'd taken one of Percival's cooking pots and just shaped it to his needs. "Yes and no. The Illusion I create with my right hand is an actual reality for a short time. The duration depends entirely on the illusion, the grander the illusion, the shorter the duration, and vice versa. Anything I do to alter myself is some of the smallest illusions I create, as it is limited to only myself, and so I can make those illusions last for days, if need be. Anything outside of myself, takes a bit more effort. Such as this pot here," the pot started to glow a lovely mixture of orange and red with a heat Percival could feel from where he was sitting, "is outside of myself, as I am recreating the earth with her heat and pressure, using of course two of the elements. Not the elements like those of the periodic table over there, but the seven basic elements that are found anywhere in everything. But that's another explanation entirely. As I was saying, the reality I create with the Illusion does indeed last only a short while. However, the result and effects of that said reality remain the same, because it was in fact reality for the short period of time that it affected the true reality around it." As he finished speaking the heat had ebbed from the room, and the bulb-like pot lost it's glow. "So, say I create a dragon with my Hand, and the dragon, which is a very hard Illusion, at least the last I tried it. The dragon rampages and destroys for all of a single minute, yes?" Percival nodded at his words, never once taking his eyes off of his Hands, knowing full well what they were capable of. He pulled the bulb off with a loud wrenching noise and set it on the floor. Steam hissed free, and he felt the moisture in the air increase. "So it destroyed farms and crops and a castle maybe, before I would unable to hold it within reality any longer and then it would disappear, just as suddenly as it had appeared. As it was here, the dragon was indeed, a reality, and so the farms and crops and castle would still be destroyed. And that is because it is an effect of the Illusion I created..."

Varrick paused to look down within the bulb, reaching to grasp something within. "Just as this diamond remains after I created the atmosphere of Gaia's innermost chambers." Varrick smiled as he hefted the ugly looking rock in his hand. It didn't look like much now, but once a jeweler got his hand on it and cut away the excess carbon, he was quite certain it would be befitting of a queen. He was terribly tired now, as he'd been at the process for the better part of the day and night. He looked over the rock to Percival then, his brow furrowing.

"Do you know of anyone that would want to purchase this?"

"Spades Varrick, I don't know of anyone on the planet that could purchase that. You are asking the wrong man. You need someone who deals in that sort of thing all the time. I'm just a simple man with a nine to five like anyone else."

Varrick straightened, smiling to the knight. "You are anything but simple Percival. But at your words, I think I might know someone." With the diamond in one hand, he moved to his jacket and, after wiping his hand on his trousers, he pulled forth the cell phone that had the Baroness' number within. He carefully pressed the digits.

"You're calling someone now? It's a little late, isn't it?" Varrick turned as he pressed the green button, and the speaker began to ring.

"What time is it?" Honestly, the Fae had no idea, as he didn't pay too much attention to Father Time. Before Percival could reply, he heard the ringing stop, and a horrible screeching sound coming from the phone.

"Rowan? Are you in distress?" He immediately asked, placing the device to his ear as he'd seen so many others do before. It was an awful noise, and it seemed to be getting lower, but it didn't quite sound like a woman's scream.

-- Edited by Bringer of Death at 21:19, 2008-12-10

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Baroness DuMorne


Demonic Nobility

Posts: 53
Date: Dec 10, 2008
Permalink Closed



The police were so predictable it hurt. Turn on the lights to alert the bad guy they were on their way. Would the police the world over never learn? The police barely slowed down when Rowan made her own vehicle veer over to the other side of the road. See, she was just another  good citizen, clearing the way for the heroes to go to the rescue of the distressed. With one hand on the wheel and the other shifting the gears, Rowan didn't feel her cellphone at first, attributing the vibration against her hip, to the car's archaic motor.  With the shift complete, Rowan arched up, raising her hips off the seat in an effort to get to the phone out of the pocket of her pants. It took two tries, and Rowan made a mental note to invest in "shopping" clothes that were not one size smaller than skin tight.  Finally, her fingers closed around the plastic contraption and she flipped the lid open without looking at the caller ID and instead wincing in genuine pain as yet another police car zoomed by, its siren extra...sireny.

"Hello? Ow...Hello?!"

"Rowan? Are you in distress?" He immediately asked, placing the device to his ear as he'd seen so many others do before. It was an awful noise, and it seemed to be getting lower, but it didn't quite sound like a woman's scream.

"Varrick?" The surprise in her voice was completely genuine. It was late. Actually it stopped being late and officially became later about two hours prior, so a phone call, any phone call was a surprise. "No I'm fine, the TV's a little loud...Hi. Um, are you in distress?"

There was one close moment when the break lights of the last car in the police convoy lit up the night, but just as quickly as they came on, they went off again. Only Rowan's smiling eyes greeted her back in the reflection of the mirror, the image ruined only by a large crack in the plastic. The crack bothered her to no end, but the sure knowledge that the car would be burned to a husk within the next hour, thus freeing the world from its presence, made Rowan feel all better inside.

"It's a little on the late side, is everything okay?" See, she was a nice person for asking.


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Bringer of Death


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Posts: 33
Date: Dec 11, 2008
Permalink Closed

"Oh no, no I'm not in distress milady. Even if I were I wouldn't bother you with such trivial matters." Varrick watched Percival roll his eyes and push himself from the half chair. She mentioned the time, and a slight grimace marred the Fae's features. "Oh yes, well, for that I do apologize. I hadn't realized the lateness of the hour until Percival had said something. By then the phone was ringing. Not important, however." Varrick moved to take over the half seat that Percival had vacated.

He held up the rather unimpressive looking rock in his hand, a rock that he knew beheld a very valuable jewel. He smiled at the irony of the situation, where he was speaking with the very one who had stolen his book about selling his newly made precious metals and gem. "Well I was going to ask if you might have certain knowledge I require. I presumed since you are royalty you would know where I could find an establishment that deals in gems and metals."

"Royal..Varrick, you called me at this hour to ask me about where to buy jewelery?"

"Ah well, yes and no milady. In truth, I need to sell some wares." Percival neared him again, rolling his eyes.

"Well I suppose any jewelery store in town would do. I can recommend a few, but if it's something specirfic, I can't in good conscience throw you to the sharks as it were. It wouldn't be right. May I ask what is it that you're trying to  sell?"

"Well yes, certainly. I have a few bricks of gold and platinum that I think will provide nicely for some jewelry, and a decent sized uncut diamond." Varrick smiled at telling her the actual items, knowing full well she would covet them dearly. "I do appreciate your concern about throwing me to the proverbial sharks." He looked to the 'decent' sized diamond in his hand, very easily the size of his fist. Percival bent down to settle himself on the floor, watching Varrick with an amused expression. He set another cup of the hot tea just at Varrick's feet, just in case he wanted some of the honey vanilla chamomile. Varrick gave him a nod of thanks.

"Oh don't thank me, I am  a proverbial shark myself...I don't know of many places that would by pure metal from someone outside of their usual suppliers. But I do know someone who can help with that. You know, Varrick. maybe it'd be best if we talked about that in person? I'm afraid I don't have the information handy at the moment."

Varrick set the diamond on the floor. Actually, he dropped it and it hit the hardwood with a satisfying thunk. It was a diamond, that little fall wasn't going to hurt it in the least. He nodded as she spoke, and then realized that she wouldn't be able to see him acquiesce to her words, and spoke as he sat back with the warm mug in his free hand. "You're perfectly correct, of course. I don't know what I was thinking...I should have noted the time before I called. But of course I would love to meet with you. Any excuse to spend time with such a lovely woman is an opportunity I would be ill advised to deny."

"Oh Varrick you flatterer. You know people are so stingy with compliments these days, you'd think they were hoarding gold instead of words. What about Cipriani's Cafe. They're right by The Spanish Steps and they have the most fanastic Gellato you've ever tasted.  Say...noonish?"

Varrick smiled broadly at her words, tilting the tea for a sip. He hadn't the faintest idea what Gellato was, but she made it sound delicious. "Gellato, sounds fascinating." At that, Percival just chuckled, taking a drink of his own tea. "Why don't you just ask what's she's wearing? That's what guys usually do." At the suggestion, Varrick's brow rose in an expression of bemusement. It seemed an odd thing to do, but if it was a common gesture in the modern age, so be it. He needed to try and blend in as well as he could. "What are you wearing?" At the askance of the question, however, Percival's eyes widened and he began sputtering as he choked on his tea. Varrick watched the man with a furrowed brow.

For a moment there was stunned silence on the other end of the line while Rowan stared at her phone in confusion.  Glancing around as if in search of an answer, her frown grew as she held the phone back to her ear. "Excuse me?"

"I wasn't serious!" Percival exclaimed in a strained voice, as Varrick was sure the hot tea still coated his vocal chords. With a sigh, Varrick returned his attention to the phone, unaware if she'd heard the man or not. "I apologize. I believe Percival led me to inquire your attire in mere jest. The humor is beyond me. Back to the matter at hand, Capriani's Cafe, around noon you say? Would it be alright if we schedule the meeting for two days hence?" Percival was still beside himself with silent laughter, with a small river of tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. Varrick promptly ignored him as he concentrated on the Baroness.

"Percival has quite the sense of humor" The words were polite enough, the tone of voice behind them could have frozen fire. And just like that...it was warm again. "Two days is fine by me, it'll give me time to get all of the contact information in order. Cipriani's, noon. It's a date, Sir Goodwind."

"Absolutely, Baroness. Once again, I apologize for the late hour. You have a wonderful evening, and I shall meet you there. Fare thee well." With those words, he lowered the device and took a moment to find the red button, ending the call. He leveled his gaze upon the Moor with a disapproving look. "I don't think she found that amusing in the least."

-- Edited by Bringer of Death at 23:31, 2008-12-11

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