236 [It's almost like Deja Vu]

[impure_tale]

Where the FUCK are my manuscripts?!

[The Marquis looks...different. There are few remaining on the Barge that remember when he used to wear a wig, or dress in a fashion befitting the time he came from. Perhaps if people recall how he appeared during the Mirror floods, they might have some idea. Another thing of note, however? He's older somehow, as one of the boons he was granted at graduation was an extra twenty years of youth. What's more? He's quite unhinged, eyes wide and bulbous with rage, frazzled, and it's quite apparent that in the background he's torn his desk apart looking for what appears to be missing.]

Romana, I will kill that little worm and you will not stop me.

[He's pacing like an agitated tiger in a cage.]

By the Holy Virgin's bearded cunt, if he's damaged them I'll carve their replacements in his dimpled backside! 

Comments

[routemistress]

...Romana? Don't tell me she's around and all?

[Iris would know, surely, even in the fractured temporal flux of this flood. Though, she supposes, a shielded cabin might camouflage her presence enough.]

Sorry, Marquis. 'Ow about you take a deep breath and tell me exactly what's missing? And who you were thinking of killing?

[Yes, Iris is wearing an iridescent butterfly-themed superhero costume, what of it.]

[impure_tale]

[He's too angry to take note or even realize he's talking to someone he doesn't recognize.]

Harry Saxon, and whatever other insipid title by which he chooses to call himself. Who else would I be talking about?

[routemistress]

Oh lord, don't tell me that smarmy gobshite's back and all. Don't you worry, if 'e is I'll flipping 'old 'im down for you.

[She means it. Probably.]

Marquis, listen to me. This is a flood. Do you know what those are? 'Ow long 'ave you been 'ere?

[impure_tale]

Oh stop patronizing me. I've been here for weeks; I know what a flood is!

[Frustrated growl.]

Where is Romana?

[Video]

[tentacruelest]

[Fresh from a stint on the seas after graduation, Jones too looks oddly younger. He pauses to look around the Barge before giving a slight smirk, recalling his time spent here.

Well, then; to business. He clears his throat and addresses an old friend in what looks like rather dire straits]

Calm yerself, Marquis. The entire damned Barge is liable to hear yeh.

It's good to see yeh again.

[Video]

[impure_tale]

Who the devil are you?

[Video]

[tentacruelest]

Don't yeh recognize me? Has it been that long...

I suppose I'd be easier to recognize if I'd been my original cursed self.

[Video]

[impure_tale]

[Eyeroll.]

There is no such a thing as curses. How stupid do you think I am?

[youwillgotohell]

[Well what the hell is this flood.]

He?

[impure_tale]

[His rage is going between the usual extremes of shrieking anger and fitful sobbing, so he seems almost calm right now. Or perhaps the presence of a pretty face does him that much good.]

Harold Saxon.

[youwillgotohell]

[It's taken time, but Morgana's finally adjusted to the idea of being a pretty face again - and she is not above using that to her advantage. Whether or not that's the case here, she doesn't see reason to question yet.]

And why would he steal your manuscripts?

[impure_tale]

Because that's what worms do when left to their own devices.

[mightthinkthat]

[Does he speak or not? He waits a while before deciding, eh, he's not afraid of being yelled at.] I'm afraid you'll have to wait until things to return to normal before you sort your issues out.

[impure_tale]

That will not be possible.

[mightthinkthat]

I'm afraid, I wasn't giving you the option. Wouldn't be mine to give, regardless.

[impure_tale]

[There are more things being overturned in his room that can't be seen on frame.]

[this_corrosion]

Jesus will you fucking keep it down?

[impure_tale]

When I'm good and ready, you cockroach!

[this_corrosion]

No one gives a fuck about your manuscripts.

[with_my_teacup]

Well this wasn't how I was hoping to see you again.

[impure_tale]

I don't believe we've met.

[with_my_teacup]

Apparently not. Richard B. Riddick. You're an inmate, aren't you.

[impure_tale]

That's right.

[coldlies]

[Never so pleased to his warden, even if he technically isn't right now.] Oh my, this is a change.

If who you're looking for is here, I would be delighted to see what you shall do to him.

[impure_tale]

[Hello.]

So many assure me that he's not, alas. If it truly is a flood then his comeuppance will come to him soon enough.

And who might you be?