[Feb Catchall][OTA]

[judgementor]

Who: Red Wine
When: Jan/Feb
Where: All around
What: Feb catchall, maybe with a bit of backdated stuff for Jan
Warnings: None yet.
Note: TLs in post. Feel free to thrown down your own for me!

Comments

you know

[battlebound]

( it is late in the evening and despite that, Steak looks rather awake as he leans on the doorframe of Red Wine's room. )

You realise we could make good money if you delivered roses this Valentine's Day?

( well. Aefenglom's version of it, anyway. )

[judgementor]

[Red Wine hasn't been awake too long, but long enough to be able to look appropriately irritated at both the intrusion and the suggestion.]

Absolutely not.

[He turns back to the mirror, brushing a few straying strands of hair out of his face and behind his ears.]

I don't know where you got such a ridiculous idea.

[battlebound]

( well, he was the only one to suffer the humiliation of playing The Great Prince. so it's time for some turnabout is fair play. )

I have the outfit hanging in my wardrobe.

( ur turn, RW. )

[judgementor]

[His fingers hesitate over his ear, and then move quickly to arrange his hair into position before he pivots on his seat, turning to face Steak.]

If you want to make a fool of yourself, that's really your prerogative. [He points out tartly, resting one knee over the other and bracing both forearms against his leg.]

But I don't see why you need to drag me into it. I'm not wearing that suit.

[battlebound]

( hey!!! what's that supposed to mean!!! )

Who said I'd make a fool of myself?!

( he survived last time okay? )

Are you afraid you can't do it?

[judgementor]

[He barks a quick laugh.]

Afraid? I could run rings around you if I had a mind to.

[Appealing to Red Wine's pride - or, in Steak's case, hitting it with a large stick - is something that rarely fails to work. He stands up and crosses to the door, using his extra inch in height to effectively look down his nose at Steak.]

You should be more concerned that I'd outdo you if I tried.

[battlebound]

( you're not that much taller than him, Red Wine, and Steak finally straightens up and pushes himself off the doorframe to prove it. )

Tch, you wish. How many orders of roses did we get last time?

( Gingerbread was running back and forth scrounging up more roses for half the day thanks to his performance as The Great Prince. )

[judgementor]

[He tips his head slightly, visibly thinking about it.]

I suppose you're right. You're obviously far more suited to it than I am. You should do it.

[Besides, that suit won't fit him.

(Excuses, excuses.)]

[battlebound]

( wait what

this isn't what he planned! )

That's not wh—!! ( fINE! ) Red Wine, I challenge you to a contest of who can sell the most roses!

[judgementor]

[His eyebrows raise. Appealing to his pride, now? Or his sense of competition? Or both, perhaps.

It almost works.]

Don't be ridiculous. Making it a competition wouldn't be fair on you.

[battlebound]

On me?

( fight him, you undead bastard. )

You know I'm in the lead, right?

( by like 1 but it totally counts. )

[judgementor]

I know you like to imagine yourself to be in the lead, and I graciously allow you your fantasy.

[Maybe he is in the lead, but it isn't as if Red Wine is going to admit it.]

[battlebound]

It's not a fantasy! ( hmph. why would he need to fantasise about that when he is clearly the better of the two? )

[judgementor]

You do understand the meaning of 'fantasy', yes?

[Steak can dream he's the better of the two. Red Wine is sure they are both aware that just isn't the case.]

[battlebound]

Why, you—!

( if there is any greater sign of all being well than Steak growling out those words and grabbing Red Wine by the collar, we don't know it. )

[judgementor]

[Red Wine responds instantly with a wild grin and a strong hand gripping tightly around Steak's wrist. He chuckles lowly, a giddy light sparking up behind his eyes.]

What? Is that a 'no'?

[battlebound]

( oh, you think it's that easy, Red Wine? Steak's beginning to study, you know. )

I'll show you my fantasy!

( ... questionable word choice aside, he presses magic into his fingers, murmuring an unintelligible spell which

uh

dyes Red Wine's collar a gaudy shade of turquoise.

and judging by the way Steak looks down and blinks, that wasn't his fantasy at all. )

[judgementor]

[It could be what he says, or what he does, or a combination of the two, but Red Wine doesn't react quite how Steak might expect him to. He doesn't yell or raise a fist to punch him, but he follows his gaze down and yanks his own collar enough to be able to see what happened to it.]

What...

[His lips press together, his jaw working slightly, and-- is he angry? It's hard to tell.

At least, it's hard to tell until he starts laughing.]

What was that?

[battlebound]

( how red can beef go? well he may just outshine his hair at this rate, because not only was that embarrassing, Red Wine is infuriating, and Steak promptly, and roughly, lets go of his collar, shoving him backwards with the motion. )

You-- shut up.

( huff. )

[judgementor]

[He's so used to being shoved by Steak like that that he barely loses his footing at all, but he sits down abruptly on the edge of his bed all the same as he keeps laughing.

It isn't even that funny, but at the same time... It's so funny.]

What-- What were you trying to do?

[battlebound]

( the grumbling Steak makes in response is almost certainly only decipherable to dogs. )

I was trying to shut you up.

( and if the spell had worked, Red Wine would have had a mouthful of fabric to muffle his nonsense. )

[judgementor]

Well that didn't bloody work did it.

[It's tickled him in a way he can't quite explain, even though he's going to have to change his shirt now because that colour just clashes with everything about him.]

You really are ridiculous.

[battlebound]

( says the guy who dresses like that.

but Steak decides that it is much easier to answer that barb with a simple flick of his middle finger towards Red Wine.

bastard. )