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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 04 Nov 2010, 17:03 
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Arthur Barrington-Smythe turned up the collar on his grey trenchcoat - an unwitting gift from a steriotypical member of the IRA, who had been in the toilet at the time - and crossed the dull, rainy street. With consumate skill he stepped nonchalantly off the pavement into a puddle, swore with a finesse unrivalled, and continued his merry way completely unperturbed by this brushing blow to the dryness of his socks.

After almost successfully travelling the distance from one side of the street to the other and casting a wary glance at a nearby postbox in case it was being occupied by an enemy agent, he took a crumpled sheet of paper from his inside pocket, and nailed it to a nearby lampost with his shoe. What a sight it was, this fine example of English nobility single-footedly making the ultimate sacrifice of his one remaining dry sock so as to nail a sheet of paper with great difficulty to a metal post, and surviving driving the nail into a live wire.

Smouldering but - naturally - unruffled, he hopped away leaving his shoe melted to the nail and entered a nearby pub. Behind him he left his first great blow against the American Autocracy, a call to arms written in the ancient English tongue.

"Ere mate!" it read, "Jolly fine day, what? I say, if youre interested in a jolly spiffing bit of sedition and treason, go to the [s]irradiated mineshaft[/s] [s]bat infested cave[/s] old mill and knock two and a half times. ABSOLUTE SECRECY! Spread the word."

Over his pint of gin and tonic, Barrington Smythe could barely control his excitement. Soon, the British would have their day! The time was as ripe as the banana hidden under his hat.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 05 Nov 2010, 20:50 
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Jess Hawthorne sat at end of the shiny bar of a pub with a Strongbow in her hand, twisting a pair of her turquoise and orange braids around her fingers, lost in thought. Her visit with her British friend hadn't gone as planned; they'd had a massive fight, as evidenced by the cut on her lip and the bruise on her jaw, and now she was stuck here for three weeks waiting for her flight back state-side. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. She'd given him what for--paid him back, with interest. He'd limped away with a black eye, a missing front tooth, and a broken wrist from where she'd stomped on it with her steel-toed Doc Martens. Jess may look lanky, but it was all lean muscle. It'd been one hell of a tussle, and she came out the victor, against a guy half again as big as herself; and he'd had the nerve to call her "a lithe little thing."

In the shadows at the corner of the bar, she could see everyone come and go at the front door. Jess raised an eyebrow when an aristocratic-looking man hopped into the bar from the rain with one remaining shoe. Taking a sip of her beer, she gave a small chuckle. Seemed kind of a crummy bar to be in for him, even if he was missing a shoe. She adjusted her hole-riddled jeans and crossed her legs, idly drumming her fingers on her thigh, feeling the fishnet stockings beneath. Shaking her head, Jess went back to her beer. The business of the English aristocracy didn't concern her. All that she was worried about was having enough money to survive in England for the next three weeks. She shrugged her shoulders in her leather jacket, fingering her thin wallet in the inside pocket; yes, that was quite the worry.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 05 Nov 2010, 23:59 
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Sir Thomas Oliver Holmes wasn't what you'd call the average Brit. In fact, he wasn't what you'd call the average anything. He had a large fortune mostly invested in two homes--one in Cheshire outside Manchester and the other in Kensington Square--but outside the home barely showed it apart from the expensive gadget or two on his person. He was both charming and intelligent, if a bit stiff at first meeting, but had few friends. He spoke with impeccable English, but lacked any sort of interesting accent so often emulated, with varying degrees of success, out of country. Ruggedly handsome and only twenty-six years of age, but with the steady-headedness of a fifty-year-old businessman, and all while managing to make an impression of reasonable fun and spontaneity, maybe even impulsiveness on those he met. Had gotten everything from his family, including his title, but had no family to speak of.

A curious case indeed.

Curious enough in fact that perhaps it was no surprise that while walking along, twirling his quirky silver and garnet topped mahogany cane--which served no purpose whatsoever and would probably have been better off replaced by an umbrella on such a day as today--and whistling an eccentric little tune, he stopped at the sight of the strange man nigh-electrocuting himself for the sake of a rumpled piece of paper, and decided to take a look for himself at what it had to say once the man had gone inside.

"Ere mate! Jolly fine day, what? I say, if youre interested in a jolly spiffing bit of sedition and treason, go to the old mill and knock two and a half times. ABSOLUTE SECRECY! Spread the word."

After smirking at the silly little message, Ollie brushed a few strands of his auburn-ish hair from his forehead and rolled his shoulders to shift his brown, almost ankle-length overcoat, then sniffed through his pinched nose. The man had few delusions; it's not as if he had anything more pressing to attend to, and he felt like getting out the rain and being amused for a bit.

He ducked into the pub after the interesting little man, looking around for a moment before spotting him off to the side and near the end of the room. Given the note said nothing about contacting the man himself, Ollie stood dumbly for a moment before walking over to the bar and sitting. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment, not knowing what to do, before he leaned over to what was a somewhat trampy looking chick two seats over.

"Ope, hello there. You don't know me, just, a question: What should I get here?"



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 06 Nov 2010, 06:59 
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Dr. Madeleine Connor tramped through the rain on her way home from her job at the local museum. Normally, she enjoyed her work, but today she had been required to give a guided tour to a party of far from well-behaved school children. She had a PhD in palaeontology for heaven's sake, not child psychology and crowd control! She might look like a harmless nerd, but by the end of the visit, it was all she could do to keep herself from punching some of those kinds in the face. And to top off this stressful, exhausting day, it had started pouring with rain five minutes before she left the building, and she hadn't brought an umbrella. She was now soaked to the skin, her light brown shoulder length hair, already pulled back into a rather unflattering short ponytail, was plastered to her head, and she could barely see through her rain-spattered semi-rimless glasses.

As she passed the entrance to the pub she caught sight of something odd on a nearby lamp post. Never one to ignore anything even remotely exciting, she went over for a closer look. It turned out to be melted shoe fused to a nail that held up a sodden piece of paper. The upper corners of the soggy sheet had curled up and drooped, largely concealing the text, but Madeleine carefully unrolled it and attempted to read the rain-smudged message.

"Ere mate! Jolly fine da smudge hat? I say, if youre interes smudge spiffing bit of sedition and treason, go to the [s]irradiated[/s] smudge [s]bat infested cave[/s] old mill and knock two and a half times. smudge SECRECY! Spread the word."

She stood up and looked around.

I don't know what hats have to do with it, but sedition and treason sound fun! she thought. Certainly more interesting than protecting fossils from pre-teen vandals or taking a cold shower in the street. I wonder where that mill is. Maybe someone in this pub will know.

She made her way back to the pub, pushed open the door and stood just inside, rapidly accumulating a puddle around her from her formerly smart black trouser suit and white blouse. As she took off her glasses and tried to wipe them with a soaking wet handkerchief, she peered around the room. It was still early evening and not many people were patronising the establishment yet. Who should she approach? Off to one side was guy in a grey coat and only one shoe. Might he know anything? Nah! What about the smart gentleman at the bar? He looked like a knowledgeable type. Or the girl in the torn jeans and leather jacket? She looked like she could be a revolutionary. Maybe she should ask her. Or maybe she should just go and buy a drink and keep her eyes and ears open. Yes, that seemed more likely.

She replaced her glasses, tramped up to the bar, leaving a trail of water behind her, and sat squelchily on a stool.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 06 Nov 2010, 08:39 
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Unaccustomed as he was to paying attention to the real world, Barrington-Smythe had noticed a sudden influx of people into the pub, none of whom he had seen before. This was making him both suspicious and paranoid, but also fairly entertained. The first visitor had attracted his attention immediately, or at least her boots had. They looked to be Arthurs size, and he was already formulating a cunning and devious plan to aquire at least one of them.

The second visitor, the ginger-looking foppy type, had been acting very mysteriously and almost immediately headed for the girl with the shoes. This was a suspicious move indeed, and Arthur noted it down on the inside of his hat; "Beware the snappy ginger!", and had just finished doing the illustration when the door had opened for the third time in five minutes. They were definately onto him, they had probably already done all kinds of tests on his shoe. It could only be a matter of time, and with three enemy assassins in the same room then that time was running out. Drastic measures were in order, so he bought a very drastic measure from the bartender and observed the latest in a string of trained killers.

Her disguise was impeccable, he gave her that. Anyone might have taken her for an accountant, or indeed a harmless journalist. Journalist! So his assassination would be in the media, would it? He would soon see about that! Quickly he took off his vistigial sock and tied it around his neck, ready to pull it up over his face as a mask the moment the gunfire began. Feeling very pleased with his handywork, he turned back to his drastic measure and angled his ear towards his would-be killers.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 06 Nov 2010, 09:01 
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Jess continued to watch the door as people came in and out. For so early, and for such a small pub, it did seem rather busy, and many of its patrons seemed fairly well-to-do for a dive such as this. An aristocratic-looking man, who looked to be just a few years older than her own 22, came in, looked around, then came over to her end of the bar--Jess shifted on her stool and slipped her free hand (the one without the beer) out of her pocket, putting it on the bar and drumming her fingers lightly. When he took a seat just two down from her, an eyebrow raised on her forehead almost automatically. To her even greater surprise, the guy leaned over and spoke to her, in a mild, charming English accent, "Ope, hello there. You don't know me, just, a question: What should I get here?"

[COLOR=black]Jess quirked a smile and answered, in her very ordinary Midwestern, but slightly slow and drawlish Southern American accent, "Well....that depends on what your purposes are. If you're wanting to get smashed, I'd recommend the Strongbow," proffering her own drink, turning it so he could see the label. "If not, I'd suggest something a little milder, like a Bank Top." She picked her own back up and took a sip, eyeing him over the end of the rather large bottle.

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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 06 Nov 2010, 14:12 
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Ollie nodded, glancing past the girl for a blink of an eye, as the man he'd followed in was doing something...weird.

"Bank Top, righto. Guess I'll give that a try then." He turned his attention to the bar itself, looking up and down for a bartender but seeing none. "Will give it a try then," he said, bobbing his head acceptingly. A quietness fell about the pub as Ollie saw a snappily dressed woman enter, dripping just a bit from the rain outside and take a seat just a little ways down. Ollie knitted his fingers together as he shifted around on his seat and rested his arms on the counter top. After another moment or so, Ollie turned his head to look at the punky looking girl again, stiffly pulling a hand out to shake.

"Name's Ollie by the way. Your accent: American...Missouri, Illinois, maybe Kentucky?"



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 06 Nov 2010, 15:31 
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Madeleine sat quietly but impatiently, complaining inwardly about the lack of anyone who might want to sell her a drink. She eyed up her fellow drinkers - or would-be drinkers - the aristocratic looking man appeared to be as lacking in lubricant as she was. She heard him introduce himself to Revolutionary Girl. "Ollie"? What sort of a name was that for someone who looked like he ought to be Lord something-or-other.

Right then. One revolutionary; one lord who isn't.

One of these two had to be responsible for the note. The other few customers dotted around the room were simply too normal (normal-looking people couldn't possibly want to post seditious notes!). Of course, there was that other guy.... She glanced across in direction of One-shoe Man. He now appeared to be tying a sock around his neck.

Not a chance, she thought. He's some insane tramp.

And he was staring at her. Creepy!

She decided to move in a bit closer to the two more likely culprits. She shifted up a couple of seats until she was within comfortable speaking distance of Lord Ollie. There was a pause after he asked Revolutionary girl about her accent, so she took her opportunity.

"Excuse me, is there a barman in this pub? And have you *cough* everheardofaplacearoundherecalledtheoldmill?"



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 06 Nov 2010, 15:55 
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Barrington-Smythe twitched visibly in his seat. She had definately said 'old mill'... so! They knew the location of his secret hideout already, did they? They knew what they were doing, he gave them that.

He would just have to be a bit more subtle, that was all. A smokescreen! That was what he needed, a smokescreen to throw them off the scent. Hurriedly he pulled a sodden packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit the dryest one, blowing the smoke repeatedly towards the trio at the other end of the bar. 'Lets see what they think of this!', he thought victoriously in his state of nicotined bliss.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 06 Nov 2010, 19:49 
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Ollie was interrupted before Punk-Girl had a chance to reply to his question by the lady who had entered after him.

"Ah, I, uh, don't see one, still waiting on a drink myself," he lowered his voice only a hair, with a singular note of snark sneaking into his voice and belying the thought that he obviously was not interested in the sign outside because he took it seriously, "and an old mill? You've had a look at the flyer outside I see. I'm not actually from around here, just came to haunt a few museums, so no, I haven't a clue where it is. I can take a look though..." Ollie fished an expensive looking phone from an inner coat pocket, and coughed a bit at an altogether nasty smell wafting past.

Looking up he spied the man he'd followed in--quite possibly in need of some medication, and maybe not quite worthy of entertaining Ollie after all--blowing furiously on a cigarette in Ollie's general direction.

"I'm sorry sir, but, is there some kind of problem...?"



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 07 Nov 2010, 11:24 
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"Bartender went in the back for something. Said he'd be back in five." Jess snickered. "'Course, that was about ten minutes ago, so who knows?" She had her beer, that's all she really cared about. Cost a pretty penny, too. "What the fuck are you two on about, with old mills and flyers? I'm not exactly local, either. I'm just stuck here on this God-forsaken island until my flight leaves in three weeks, since I can't afford the ridiculous fee they charge to change a flight time." Looking around the two Brits, she looked at the other man blowing a cloud of smoke in their direction. Seeing it made her itch for a cigarette. She'd been trying to save them, but it was just so difficult when people around you were smoking. Reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket, she pulled out a half-empty pack of Newports and shook one out. Placing it back, she searched around for her lighter and didn't find it. "Well, fuck. My lighter's gone. Do either of you have a light?" she asked hopefully. "Matches'll do."



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 07 Nov 2010, 11:53 
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Madeleine's face lit up at the mention of museums and she was just about to start singing the praises of the town's natural history museum and its excellent collection of local fossils when a wisp of cigarette smoke drifted past her nose. She looked up to trace the source and immediately saw that One-shoe Man had lit up and was puffing away vigorously. Affronted, she ignored Lord Ollie's helpful attempt to locate the Old Mill on his phone, as well as his polite enquiry of the man, slid off her stool and strode straight over to the offending smoker, totally oblivious to the fact that Revolutionary Girl was asking for a light too.

"Excuse me, sir, but are you aware that smoking indoors in a public place is no longer allowed?"

She looked around the room for a No Smoking sign to back up her assertion, but failed to spot one and felt somewhat deflated. Still, she stood there with an authoritative demeanour (or as authoritative as it it's possible to look in a soaking wet suit and hair that's rapidly turning itself into rats' tails) and waited for his response.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 07 Nov 2010, 12:34 
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A loud noise ensues from up the street, you'd think someone was driving a stock car through the city streets. But it was a Chrome-Plated, Chrome-Tinted, Deep Purple 2009 Aston Martin DB9, fully race tuned for street racing and with black light ground effects. The car was loud because of the exhaust head he was using giving his engine a different noise then normal for an AM DB9. The car sported a wide body kit, and a large spoiler on stilts. The vinyls were of various tribal and Yin-Yang Designs on the front, sides, hood, top, and back. The rims are a custom design he had imported and also Chrome-Plated.

He pulls up kind of fast and parks the car in the parking lot. Even at idle the car was quite loud, the V-12 engine roaring with raw power the Xenon lights brightening up the street like daylight. As he shuts it off, the silence becomes deafening and the streets turns back to black. The door opens and out pops a muscle-toned 32 year old Japanese. His name, Izu Vierto. Strange name he knew, but he liked it. He wore a thin purple vest over a printed black tee, black cargo pants, and black boots. He had fingerless gloves on a pair of Oakley Sunglasses on his spiked-hair head. He shuts the door and locks it with his key faub, the horn sounding to let him know it was locked. He just came back from another round of racing and boy the suckers in this town. He was making a ton of money. He never had to race for pink slips, he wanted them to try to beat him over and over again...he would just sit there laughing. He walked in and sat down.

He was only here for the beer, nothing else. This was his place to hangout and he loved the local fare he would see come in but this time he already saw it getting busy. Unusual for this establishment. "Guinness, please!" He calls out as he sits. He looks around the room, wondering what the occasion is.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 07 Nov 2010, 13:38 
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Barrington-Smythe was just about to reply to Madeline that, as she knew full well (being deeply involved in a plot to kill him), he was a revolutionary and therefore above such petty things as laws or social decency, when a draught blew through the open door and hit his bare foot, making him turn to see the new entrant.

My, my, they had to have a high opinion of him... they had sent a Ninja! Quickly he asessed his situation. A ninja was blocking the exit, a journalist was reminding him of laws before a Bondish type would kill him, assisted by somebody with shoes his size and very dramatic hair, and his glass was empty. Dire straits indeed! But Barrington-Smythe was not the type to give up easily, as any talent show judge knew only too well. Instantly he formed a plan in his head, a plan that would make all his other plans look half baked and insane.

"Look, a Widgeon!" he yelled, loud enough for all to hear, pointing directly at the girl with the shoes and trying his best to look like an avid birdwatcher. Without wasting time waiting to see if it had worked, he whipped off his trilby and replaced it with a woollen cap, disguising himself - at least in his mind - perfectly. An unmitigated success, he thought to himself, retrieving his banana from the floor.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 07 Nov 2010, 15:08 
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Jess looked up from rummaging around in her numerous pockets for a lighter or a box of matches when the crazy man shouted at her. "What the fuck's sake is a widgeon?" she mumbled around the cigarette sticking out of her mouth. The man who had walked in the door caught her eye. Oh, Jesus Christ, she thought. He looks like a right dick. From the way his car sounded, he must be compensating for something. She snickered to herself, then turned her attention back to the man that woman was chastising. He seemed to be a person she could get along with...if he could make sense for three minutes strung together.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 08 Nov 2010, 00:59 
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As soon as Izu plopped down, though, his iPhone rang. He picked it out of his pocket, looked at it, hit the answer key, and put it to his ear (all in one smooth practiced motion) and snapped happily, "Yello." He listened to the voice on the other end. "More racer challenges eh? OK, let me get my DB9 refueled and I will meet you by the old mill......ok, good. Get yer crew prepped, I will be there in an hour." Listens to more, "Well I got to drink something, haha! Later holmes!" He ends the call and places it in his pocket, locking the screen as he does. He waits for the beer. Kind of startled by the yell of a 'widgeon' whatever the hell that was. He craned his head to see where the call came from.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 08 Nov 2010, 12:37 
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Ollie tried to back up Question-Girl, but the Guy He'd Followed started doing something weird. He tried to answer Punk Girl, but she was distracted by Tokyo Drift Lad who had a big mouth. In the end, he let out a sigh of exasperation, took a new grip on his cane and turned on his seat to get up.

He stepped over to Question-Girl and leaned in, "If you'd prefer to just let him go for now, I've little doubt you can settle this with him later. This...confused man," he tilted his head in Guy He'd Followed's direction, "no offence sir--posted the flyer you were looking at. Perhaps we'll see you there, sir. I, however, take my leave of this weirdness." Ollie motioned for Question-Girl to follow him as he made for the exit to the pub.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 08 Nov 2010, 15:32 
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(Ooc: Nathan, if you think youre taking that bloody car anywhere near my old mill then youre very sadly mistaken)

Barrington-Smythe listened to the Bondish type with a wry smile. A likely story! The man was bluffing, like a... like a... bluffing thing! No, there was obviously something else behind this, attempting to leave him alone with a heavily sexually repressed ninja and a girl with dramatic hair and boots his size. As he tried to fathom out what it could be, he nonchalantly wandered along the bar whistling innocently, and stole the rest of the Bondish types drink. He took this oppertunity to quickly assess the shoes, looking up to find an unlit cigarette pointing at him, sticking out of a face that looked a bit angry. He froze, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car, and waited, his hand creeping ever closer to her cider with each second she glared at him.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 08 Nov 2010, 17:05 
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Madeleine wasn't sure how to react. Here she was trying to carry out the simple task of asking One-shoe Guy not to smoke, and suddenly the world was going weird. Instead of replying, all he did was shout some meaningless word and change his hat. Then, as though on cue, some larger than life Japanese guy had walked in (most likely from the extremely noisy vehicle that had apparently stopped outside) and quite clearly mentioned the old mill on his phone. And now, this Lord Ollie person, who had claimed to know nothing about the place, seemed to know know everything. By the sounds of things he knew who One-shoe Guy was, and he had been talking to Revolutionary Girl, so maybe he knew her too. And Jap Driver also seemed to be involved, judging by his phone conversation. Had she walked right into the middle of a conspiracy?

Well, she had followed up the note, hoping for a bit of excitement. It appeared she had found it!

Lord Ollie seemed keen for her to follow him. Was he going to initiate her into their conspiracy? Or maybe he was going to abduct her for knowing too much? Well, a little bit of danger would just add to what had suddenly turned into a rather interesting end to an otherwise very unsatisfying day. She decided to comply and followed the well-dressed stranger towards the door, interested to see how things would play out.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 08 Nov 2010, 19:45 
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"And what do you think you're going to do with that, then, Crazy Man?" Jess asked, with an eyebrow quirked. "I'm in the middle of drinking that, and if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your grubby little paws off it." She examined him more closely. "You really do look insane, d'you know that? While we're on the subject of things that are bad for you, I'm presuming, since you have a lit cigarette, that you have a light on you. Would you mind?" She leaned forward a bit, indicating the still-unlit cigarette between her full lips. "Since you lit up, I've been really craving a smoke."

She vaguely noticed the posh-looking man and woman leaving, but paid no attention to either them or the Asian man who was talking obnoxiously loud on his cell phone. The words "old mill" caught her ear as familiar, because the woman in the suit had mentioned something about them, and revolutionaries. Jess hadn't the vaguest idea what anyone was talking about; all she knew was that there was a crazy man trying to steal her beer, and eyeing her boots, and that there was maybe some sort of revolt about to happen, which would be exciting, in a way. At least there'd be a lot of fighting, and Jess was starting to get restless again. Something on her boot caught her eye, and she reached down and picked off a fleck of blood. "There. That's much better," she muttered to herself.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 09 Nov 2010, 00:13 
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Ollie held the door open for Question-Girl to exit, and motioned for her to follow him as he walked under the overhangs of the buildings on the sidewalk. The rain seemed to have lessened a bit since he was out last, so perhaps they wouldn't need to contend with it much longer anyway. Cellphone still in hand, Ollie typed a few more characters in as he addressed Question-Girl.

"Nice to be out of that anyway. Ah!" He looked at her and flashed the screen of his phone at her briefly, "Told you I'd find it. Only one mill near here. We could make our way there if you're up to it." He stopped abruptly. "Name's Ollie by the way. Don't believe we had a chance to properly acquaint ourselves in that place. Could I get yours?"



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 09 Nov 2010, 15:01 
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Surprised by the lack of sudden, murderous hostility from the assassin in front of him, Barrington-Smythe slowly produced a cheap plastic lighter from his pocket and offered it to the girl. Giving her the gift of fire when she had a vested interest in his death (and possible subsequent parading of his head on a pole) seemed like a bad idea, but if he could give her an oppertunity to attack now with only the ninja (who seemed too busy posing to be much of a threat) for support, he had a better chance at foiling her dastardly plan. he was just trying to select which bar stool he would break over the ninjas head when the attack came and trying to choose between gritty and impressive things to say when he did (Take that, muderous swine! was his favourite so far), when he noticed the girl picking a dark red scab off her boots.

So! Already one killing today, or a lax approach to shoecare, or perhaps she was a decorator and only moonlighted as a muderous puppet of an autocratic regime. There was only one way to find out;

"So," he said conversationally in a jaunty and posh voice "Do you do much decorating? Or is butchering dissidents your main line of work?" he tried to make it sound as much like an innocent question as possible, adding to the illusion by continuting "I only ask because a friend of mine is in the decorating buisness, and he- I say! Its another widgeon!" His hand shot out and pointed randomly, his other making a further advance on the girls drink.



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 09 Nov 2010, 16:17 
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Jess nodded thanks for the light, and puffed on her cigarette. "Ah, that hit the spot." Trading the cigarette for her beer bottle, she took another sip as the man in front of her spoke. "Decorating? My room at the youth hostel is about as bare as you can imagine, and besides that, I don't have anything to decorate with. And as for murdering dissidents, I only do that when they've either been cheating on me, or are trying to steal my beer." She gripped her bottle tighter. "And if I were you, I'd take the hint. And while we're on the subject of you being crazy...." Jess raised an eyebrow, "What the fuck is a widgeon?

(Ooc: sorry, my brain isn't really functioning properly today. More from me later.)



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 09 Nov 2010, 16:58 
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Madeleine stepped through the opened door, too engrossed in her own musings to register the gentlemanly gesture, and kept close to Lord Ollie's shoulder as she followed him down the street, grateful both that this row of buildings offered a little shelter and that the rain now seemed to be easing off.

She saw him start to fiddle with his phone once again, and tried to peer over his shoulder at what he was doing as he expressed his relief at getting out. Actually, the rather strange goings on in the pub hadn't bothered her in the slightest - when you've spent six years in an academic environment, and another three as assistant curator of fossils in a museum, you get used to eccentric people. She'd been intrigued rather than irritated - until One-shoe Guy lit up that cigarette. Smoking offended her.

Unfortunately, without getting inappropriately close, it was impossible to make out what was on the screen. Until he made her jump by suddenly exclaming, "Ah!" and turning to her with the phone held aloft for her to see. Even then she barely had time to make out more than the impression of a map before he removed it again. But he immediately made it clear what was on the map, and his suggestion that they should make a visit there definitely appealed. She was just about to reply in the affirmative when he suddenly stopped and gave his name.

I know that! Why are you telling me? she immediately thought, before remembering that she only knew it because she'd overheard him telling Revolutionary Girl. He didn't know that she knew that he... whatever...

"Madeleine," she replied, when he asked for hers. "Madeleine Connor. But my friends call me Mad. Mad by name, mad by nature, maybe?" She laughed at her own pun, not caring whether Ollie found it funny or not.

"Here's my card." She fished a rather damp business card out of an inside pocket of her jacket, and handed it to him. "I work at the natural history museum. You should visit sometime. I'll give you a tour. I'm sure you'd be far more co-operative than today's guests. Sorry about the sogginess." Then, after a brief pause, "And of course I'm up to it!"



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 Post subject: Revolutions
PostPosted: 09 Nov 2010, 17:11 
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Ollie hesitated for a moment to memorise the directions given by the phone--it was knack of his, remembering things--before replacing it in his coat pocket and turning slightly to take the offered card and extending his right hand jauntily for a handshake.

"Glad to make your acquaintance then, Mad Maddy." The duo reached a street corner, and Ollie stopped. "And what brings a smartly dressed museum tour guide such as yourself into such a raucous den, looking for revolutionaries with mental disorders?"



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