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Girl from Ipanema 13/?
Date: 2012-06-21 03:01 am (UTC)He always took the stairwell. The elevators were a novelty to tourists and a crutch for the lazy. He didn't like the closeness and the absence of control. And he never wanted to fight someone in an elevator ever again. That had been beyond irritating.
Picus walked through the fifth floor and made the agreed-upon knock on door 511. As he neared and then as he passed, he heard a thumping bedspring sort of sound and walked off wondering if his understanding of Roman numerals had been deficient. Had they not agreed on the first letter of every word in a sentence, so long as it was a significant letter? Was this one of the irritating Latin exceptions that he could never seem to commit to memory?
Nevertheless he continued walking until he heard the door open. He turned and walked back and went in. Gabban shut the door behind him, gripped him by the upper arms in an excited hug-squeeze-Gabban-thing, and then ran barefoot in a well-tailored suit all the way back to the double beds.
He resumed jumping from one bed to the other, back and forth, a huge grin on his face. "Come in and have some coffee! Fox made coffee! There's still some left! Haha look at his hair, Siri did it."
Gabban's baritone seemed at odds with his body, a short somewhat stocky young man, and when he was going through puberty Picus thought that his cracking, honking, abruptly deep voice sounded like a shy teenager trying to learn the tuba.
In the adjoining room doorway he saw the long lean figure of Purpureo, dressed in a striped gray suit, hair slicked back. He held a boomerang-looking native weapon in one hand, absently tapping it against his thigh. A very sunburnt white woman brushed past him rudely, resplendent in a sequined dress, walking funny in one high heel. Her yellow hair towered in a startling updo, netted with beads and more sequins, and she held her head cocked out to the side as though it physically weighed her down, and she clip-clopped lopsided with the other high heel in her hand.
"Goddammit ya'll 'n go to hell, you owe me, I am NOT wearing this ever again! I can't do left turns, my tits are fallin' out, 'n my hair like this I can't go through doorways normal--"
Sometimes when sister Prudentia went off on a tear, Picus had to concentrate to decipher her way of talking.
"Don't worry about the dress," Purpureo told her, "knowing you, you won't be wearing it all that long.. "
And she smacked him hard with the high heel in her hand. He hissed as though it had really hurt him, and he cried in outrage, "Do you see how she treats me?" but Vulpes Inculta didn't appear to care. He always let them sort it out among themselves.
"I think you look fine, Prudy," Picus told her.
"Hey, sugar. You my date to the party tonight?"
"Good question-- am I?" Picus didn't yet know his assignment, and his eyes moved to the one who would know.
He Walks Away Alone and an unusually blond Fox were at the round cocktail table, a game of caravan, a mutual dislike, and several glasses of liquor between them. At a glance Picus could tell they both were at a standstill, were both cheating fiercely. They were also playing for a pile of caps, eight NCR dollars, a lighter, and a denarius stamped in honor of the once-great Boar Centuria-- a rare coin these days.
"Was beginning to think you were never going to leave your casino girl alone," the Twisted Hair remarked in his rich and sarcastic tone. "Busy playing the slot?"
Picus knew better than to try to attempt a witty reply, not with him. Instead he crossed to their table and stood his briefcase up square in the middle of their game. "I brought what you asked for," he said. "Too late to buy in?"
Re: Girl from Ipanema 13/?
Date: 2012-06-21 03:02 am (UTC)