so sleeeepy
Jun. 6th, 2008 07:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenD-Devil May Cry?
Security Guard
“Can I keep anything?”
“No.”
“Not even if it’s sharp?”
“Confiscated objects go in the bin under the desk.”
“So if someone has a gun…”
“You confiscate it. They may have it back when they leave.”
“Or a knife?”
“You confiscate it.”
“How about a claymore?”
“You tell them we can’t check that.”
“Right. Can I shoot anyone?”
“No. Officers are expected to be polite but firm.”
“Even if they’re really pushy?”
“Polite but firm.”
“What if they’ve got really bad hair?”
“No.”
“Or if they’re a demon?”
“…”
“Aaand if they shoot me first. Then can I shoot them?”
“… yes. Mr. Redgrave. If a visitor turns out to be a demon, and if the visitor shoots you first, you are allowed to shoot them back.”
Dante grinned. “I'll remember you said that.”
Teaching Assistant
“Right,” said the stranger, slamming a book shut as he marched down the rows into the center of the lecture hall. About five feet of red leather billowed behind him. “I’m not going to call attendance, because frankly? If any of you suckers aren’t here? I don’t really care.”
“Uh,” said Angela Verocchio, first row, second chair “Who are you, exactly?”
“This is the Demonology 201 lab block, isn’t it?”
“Uh,” said Angela Verocchio. “Technically we’re supposed to call it Animal Physiology…”
“Right,” said the stranger, slamming a black duffel bag down on the desk. “I’m the new T.A. Okay. You, waving your hand in the second row. Question?”
Mathan White, top of the class, had more of a demand: “Do you actually HAVE permission to be here? Because I spoke to Professor Lucen just yesterday afternoon. I don’t think you’re allowed-”
The stranger pulled a lance out of the duffel bag and threw it through his head.
“If that’s the questions for now,” said the new T.A., hauling Mathan’s corpse over the desk. It’d grown ten feet long and considerably greener and knobbier. He removed the lance with a matter-of-fact squelch. “Let’s start with basic anatomy."
Retail.
“What, you don’t have the new Crushface album? It totally came out, like, YESTERDAY.”
The kid at the counter, an obvious hasty summer hire, sat farther back in his chair and shrugged. He wore big boots and half a shirt, and his hair was bleached an old man silver. He looked a little young to be working this particular shop, but with his jutting lower lip and the uninterested droop in his eyelids, it was hard to cut him any slack. “Sure. If by ‘yesterday’ you mean ‘next week.’”
“Would you even CHECK?”
The kid cast the decrepit store computer a lazy glance, “I just did.”
“Well, check again!”
“Nope.” The kid nudged the screen with his boot. “It’s not out.”
“Yeah, and you know your mom said the same thing last night.”
The kid looked left. The kid looked right. The kid leaned back over the counter, and took the customer by his collar. He smiled. “So. What was that about my mom?”
Antique Books...?
“TONY,” yelled Mr. Vasari, “HEY, TONY. DID THAT HERBOLOGY VOLUME COME IN YET? THAT OLD WITCH ‘ROUND THE CORNER’S BEEN BITCHING ABOUT HER PREORDER AGAIN. IF IT DOESN'T GET TO HER BY NOON TOMMORROW I’M FINDING A NEW CLERK.”
He found young Tony jammed between the rows of Architecture and Runic Lore, an edition of “Guard Wards for the Criminally Stupid’ open on his lap. Mr. Vasari’s wide shadow fell over him. He looked up. “Yeah?”
“And put that back,” said Mr. Vasari.
Security Guard
“Can I keep anything?”
“No.”
“Not even if it’s sharp?”
“Confiscated objects go in the bin under the desk.”
“So if someone has a gun…”
“You confiscate it. They may have it back when they leave.”
“Or a knife?”
“You confiscate it.”
“How about a claymore?”
“You tell them we can’t check that.”
“Right. Can I shoot anyone?”
“No. Officers are expected to be polite but firm.”
“Even if they’re really pushy?”
“Polite but firm.”
“What if they’ve got really bad hair?”
“No.”
“Or if they’re a demon?”
“…”
“Aaand if they shoot me first. Then can I shoot them?”
“… yes. Mr. Redgrave. If a visitor turns out to be a demon, and if the visitor shoots you first, you are allowed to shoot them back.”
Dante grinned. “I'll remember you said that.”
Teaching Assistant
“Right,” said the stranger, slamming a book shut as he marched down the rows into the center of the lecture hall. About five feet of red leather billowed behind him. “I’m not going to call attendance, because frankly? If any of you suckers aren’t here? I don’t really care.”
“Uh,” said Angela Verocchio, first row, second chair “Who are you, exactly?”
“This is the Demonology 201 lab block, isn’t it?”
“Uh,” said Angela Verocchio. “Technically we’re supposed to call it Animal Physiology…”
“Right,” said the stranger, slamming a black duffel bag down on the desk. “I’m the new T.A. Okay. You, waving your hand in the second row. Question?”
Mathan White, top of the class, had more of a demand: “Do you actually HAVE permission to be here? Because I spoke to Professor Lucen just yesterday afternoon. I don’t think you’re allowed-”
The stranger pulled a lance out of the duffel bag and threw it through his head.
“If that’s the questions for now,” said the new T.A., hauling Mathan’s corpse over the desk. It’d grown ten feet long and considerably greener and knobbier. He removed the lance with a matter-of-fact squelch. “Let’s start with basic anatomy."
Retail.
“What, you don’t have the new Crushface album? It totally came out, like, YESTERDAY.”
The kid at the counter, an obvious hasty summer hire, sat farther back in his chair and shrugged. He wore big boots and half a shirt, and his hair was bleached an old man silver. He looked a little young to be working this particular shop, but with his jutting lower lip and the uninterested droop in his eyelids, it was hard to cut him any slack. “Sure. If by ‘yesterday’ you mean ‘next week.’”
“Would you even CHECK?”
The kid cast the decrepit store computer a lazy glance, “I just did.”
“Well, check again!”
“Nope.” The kid nudged the screen with his boot. “It’s not out.”
“Yeah, and you know your mom said the same thing last night.”
The kid looked left. The kid looked right. The kid leaned back over the counter, and took the customer by his collar. He smiled. “So. What was that about my mom?”
Antique Books...?
“TONY,” yelled Mr. Vasari, “HEY, TONY. DID THAT HERBOLOGY VOLUME COME IN YET? THAT OLD WITCH ‘ROUND THE CORNER’S BEEN BITCHING ABOUT HER PREORDER AGAIN. IF IT DOESN'T GET TO HER BY NOON TOMMORROW I’M FINDING A NEW CLERK.”
He found young Tony jammed between the rows of Architecture and Runic Lore, an edition of “Guard Wards for the Criminally Stupid’ open on his lap. Mr. Vasari’s wide shadow fell over him. He looked up. “Yeah?”
“And put that back,” said Mr. Vasari.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-06 11:55 pm (UTC)Dante is actually a very good, dutiful worker, people just can't appreciate his flash.
Pss you repeated the last paragraph of the third one twice
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-06 11:59 pm (UTC)I LOVE THIS
Date: 2008-06-07 12:42 am (UTC)HAHAHAHAHA does it matter if I am snerking like a crazy person whilst alone in my cave office? No, no it does not, it is Friday.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-07 12:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-07 01:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-07 01:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 06:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-15 03:33 am (UTC)