IC CONTACT

[wizzardly]

VOICEMAIL:

"Er... yes, okay, I suppose I should tell you that if you're trying to reach me I'm not here, and if you're trying to reach me because you want to do something involving pointy bits of metal or otherwise painful objects, I'm never going to be here. So sorry."

Comments

[wizzardly]

Oh, if you insist. [punctuated with a half-hearted sigh.]

At least he wasn't nearly as bad as that Hemali woman.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Ah... [A long beat follows.] You are not fond of Hemali?

[wizzardly]

As fond as I ever am of terrifying women who see fit to insult and threaten me.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Isn't that all women, Rincewind?]

... Threaten how? Is this an HR situation? Already?

[wizzardly]

"HR"?

[slightlyoffchilt]

Human Resources. The only... Understaffed department at the moment.

[wizzardly]

Sounds like a fake position to me. "Human Resources" - exactly the sort of vague nonsense you use to slip by accounting. And you should trust me on that, I worked in a University.

[wizzardly]

[no neighbors to peek in on her this time - only a skinny, nervous wreck of a wizard in what he hopes is appropriate romantic attire for this world. The robe obviously wasn't going to cut it, not when she started with... well, whatever you called the little see-through strips of cloth she'd been wearing when she texted him. So he's in a bow tie and a start-patterned button-up shirt, paired with black pants because April once mentioned to him that black goes with everything. He sincerely hopes that wasn't one of the times she thought it would be funny to lie to him.

He cracks a smile when she cracks the door, and would you look at that - they've both got wine with them. Oh, and... robes are apparently not the date night fashion faux pas he thought they would be. Damn.

The Luggage gets one last reproachful (and beseeching) look from Rincewind before he leaves it on her porch to step inside the apartment.]

You look - lovely. Comfortable, too. Always important. Um. - I brought wine. Quite obviously. Shall we start with yours or mine?

[maybe they should both just upend the bottles over their mouths until they're emptied.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

I believe I am legally obligated to provide that department.

[But he's amused nevertheless!]

[itistolaugh]

[He brought wine. He wore a bow tie to a bootycall. Every time she tries to talk herself out of this stupid crush, he gets more adorable without even trying. It isn't fair. How can someone be so ... this? God, she's doomed.

She closes the door behind him and leans against it as she takes a swig from the bottle. There's still wine on her lips when she kisses him.]

Physical mailbox

[protects_the_small]

[Rincewind will receive a small box in the mail, containing a compass and a note]

So you always know where you're running too. Midwinter luck.

[wizzardly]

[oh, you absolutely made a wiz(z)ard smile, Kel.]

[wizzardly]

If you're sure. May as well find someone simple-minded for it then.

[slightlyoffchilt]

You make a fine point, but I doubt Dorian Gray would be happy in such a position.

[wizzardly]

[with a smirk in his voice:]

And hardly cost-effective because of it - you'd have have to hire someone separate to keep reminding him he's pretty.

[slightlyoffchilt]

I would never do such a thing. I cannot, in good faith, stoke such narcissism. Besides, would it not get repetitive? What other notable traits does he possess?

[wizzardly]

A strange knowledge of fashion trends? The ability to find cruelty funny? ...Amazing hair?

[slightlyoffchilt]

You have just described vanity, sadism, and the ethics of pomade. I cannot award him any more credit -- he gets none.

Not even one, none.

[wizzardly]

None. Right.

[Rincewind's certainly not about to argue that with the man Dorian terrorized for kicks.]

[wizzardly]

[he's doomed.

All those warring, anxious little voices find themselves smothered into silence, muted beneath the warm press of Harley's embrace and a kiss which leaves his lips stained. Rincewind finds his arms around her immediately, toes curling against the worn soles of his shoes as sparks shoot across his brain. Madness - this is madness. Given half a second's though he could list a hundred reasons this is a terrible idea.

So he resolves not to give himself a half-second's thought.

Drawing Harley nearly up off the ground and into his arms as he kisses down her neck seems a good way to start. Rincewind fumbles only once, one-handed, to yank his hat back into place when it slips.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

See? I told them you were sensible!

[wizzardly]

Told who?

[slightlyoffchilt]

Every single person who has ever doubted you, that's all.

[wizzardly]

Well that must have kept you on the phone all day.

[slightlyoffchilt]

At least you know that someone has your back.