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Demon Marcus, Thursday

So, Ada had forgotten to come in yesterday. Given that she had TWO classes and had to find where they were and deal with the first week hustle-and-bustle of the dorms, she could be forgiven.

Besides, she didn't think Sparkle was that strict of a 'boss' or whatever.

So she was here, sitting on the counter and clutching her thermos of coffee like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. What do you know about a mermaid's dietary needs?

The sign in the window was still up, and Demon Marcus was open.
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For those that don't need Ada's commentary

If you're lucky, she'll share the coffee.

Isabela's clothes were stiff and encrusted with mud as she stomped into the store. "Some people really enjoy taking their sexual repression out on their students."

Guess whose class she'd just gotten back from?

Ada looked Isabela over. "You weren't doin' the sexy mud wrestling?" she asked, making a Disapproving face. "Then why get muddy?"

Ada spent a lot of time outside, and therefore ended up fairly dirty (Not Dirty) on a regular basis. But muddy when you didn't need to be was just plain wrong.

"Sadly, no." Isabela also a marked preference for the sexy kind of mud wrestling. "We had to stick long poles in wet ditches, stick the landing and pretend there was no dirty subtext there whatsoever."

Isabela had a gift for picking up on lewd interpretations of things.

Ada looked genuinely puzzled. "And the point of it all is...?"

"They refuse to admit they want to stick their long poles in each other's wet ditch and stick the landing so they're making us act it out by proxy."

No, Isabela, Anakin was just kind of a sadist.

"See, just sounds like they like making people suffer to me. Too elaborate for just some blue balls." ADA MILLER. LANGUAGE. "That'd be, like, usin' boffer swords while in your skivvies."

They'd had decades to work up this blue-ness, decades.

"If they'd boff their swords while in their skivvies, we'd probably all be better off for it," Isabela said. "Especially if it came after some sexy mud wrestling."

Ada snickered. "You're really invested in this, aren't you?" she said approvingly, hopping off the counter to offer Bela her coffee. "I think we got a washer and dryer in the back, let's find you something dry to wear while we get your clothes wrung-out."

"I may have strung together a few words on the subject." Notebooks, she'd filled notebooks with every detail.

Isabela gratefully took the coffee. "Andraste's knickers, that sounds like a good idea."

And the world was a brighter place for all Isabela's Stories.

"We got a little bathroom with a sink, so at least you can wash off the worst of the mud," she offered. "We'll find you something warm and hideous from the burn barrel to wear while we wait for your stuff to get clean."

"Maybe start a fire while we're at it, too."

And yet, Aveline wouldn't think so. Odd that.

"This day's sounding better and better, sweet thing," Isabela said, sipping the coffee. "And I can tell you about all the tragically abandoned wallets I found before the mud happened."

Aveline was going to have a few decades of internalized misogyny, classism, and slut-shaming to work through before she could appreciate Literature.

"Tragically abandoned, huh?" Ada asked dryly as she led the way into the back room to the burn barrel. "Not liberated from confinement?"

"If their owners hadn't been neglecting them they'd never have found their way into my hands," Isabela argued with an entirely unbelievable degree of earnestness. She produced a thick roll of notes from somewhere about her person. "Their contents on the other hand, those I liberated. Finder's fee."

"Of course. To finance future rescue operations," Ada agreed, just as earnestly.

She rummaged around in a box by a large barrel for a moment, before triumphantly pulling out a dress and a coat. "Knew I saw these last week! Here, bathroom's off to the left if you want to get mud out of your hair, and you can put on these while your clothes get cleaned and we warm you up."

"There will always be more neglected wallets in the world."

Well, those were certainly clothes. Though at least they weren't made of plaidweave. "To the left, you said?"

Plaidweave wouldn't even MAKE it to the burn barrel. No demons past the front door.

"Left," she agreed. "I'll start up what's in the barrel, and liberate Sparkle's spirits. Maybe there's something to go with the coffee."

But how would people find robes of shame?

"Sounds like a plan," Isabela called out, not wasting much time in stripping out of her muddy things. Thank the Maker for indoor plumbing and water you didn't need to heat.

Ada set getting some vodka out from under the front counter, slapping up a sign that said I'm in the back, knock loudly on the door before locking it, and then setting about getting a fire going in the barrel.

"So other than mud, how are classes so far?" she called out. "Anything to rival the fun of Mr. Barton?"

"Too early to tell," Isabela replied, scrubbing the mud off, how did it manage to get there? "One of the new teachers is definitely worthy of attention though."

Poor Steve. Poor, poor Steve.

"Yeah?" Ada finally found the accellerant, and added just a cap-full before looking around for the matches. "Who? What do they teach?"

"An' do you mean 'let's give them hell' attention or 'actually seems interesting' attention?"

Look, it was Isabela. Ada loved her dearly, but she reminded Ada eerily of some of her female cousins. It was a question that had to be asked.

Couldn't it be both, Ada?

Isabela stuck her head back through the door as she started pulling on these terrible, terrible clothes. "I not sure, actually I met him down by the causeway yesterday." And somehow completely neglected to mention she was a student during all that flirting, whoops. "But his name's Steve, and he looks like he could use the kind of banging a brothel door gets when a ship comes in after a long voyage...and like he'd die blushing if you put it to him like that."

See? Both.

Edited 2016-01-08 07:08 (UTC)

Ada snickered. "I don't think they let students and teachers play 'open doors,'" she teased Isabela. "But good luck to you if he manages to ring your bell."

You weren't the only one who could make dirty jokes, Bela.

"Why, Ada Miller, the mouth on you." Isabela sounded scandalised, yep, totally.

"He's not one of my teachers," she pointed out, adjusting the neckline of the dress. Well, at least this material was doing wonders for her cleavage. "And he's clearly closer to my age than to my husband's and no one cared about that."

Ada looked at Isabele. "Your husband was also an ass from what you've said, so maybe someone shoulda cared," she pointed out. "Not sayin' not ta go for it, just sayin' don't get caught an' break the toy."

"Calling Luis an ass is an insult to donkeys everywhere," Isabela pulled on the coat of gutted plush toys. "I'll be careful, he's far too pretty to break."

I keep trying to type "Pixie Dust" as the name of the store. It's possible I've had too many characters work here.

I keep trying to type that, too. Thinking about changing it back, just for the sake of the sanity of the three of us who post it, who all seem to have that problem. >.>

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Demon Marcus, Thursday

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Talk to Ada

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OOC

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