[open] Nothing to See Here, Move Along

[pioailurophobia]

[After the fiasco in the mall, followed by the fiasco of a slightly lesser magnitude in the Executor house, Kingslayer has come to a conclusion: with the exception of a few other half-feral Eidolons (namely Wolfsbane), their presence would only cause strife in the group. So while they make a few token appearances at the regular meetings and idol practices, they largely keep to the back and stay quiet, attracting as little attention as possible. Which, granted, was somewhat difficult to do when they were a suit of armor, but still.

But they can't just let all the other Executors do all the work. Considering the underhanded methods Esme resorted to in order to get rid of the Executors, her sending assassins wasn't out of the question either. The other Executors obviously needed some kind of backup whenever they went out, you know, just in case.

To Kingslayer's credit, they do try to be stealthy as they follow the other Executors through the streets of Invidia. Try, being the key word. Eventually, they round the corner at the exact same time, or literally bump into whoever they're trailing, freeze in plain sight, and mutter a single word:]

Shit.

[They look like they're on the verge of bolting.]

Comments

[callbacks]

[In fairness, they're in full armor while Clocks is keeping it casual in jeans and a blue hoodie too big for him, so Kingslayer can still have little an effect, as a treat.]

I understand that the infinitesimal curve of my ass effects a draw on people unexplained by even the highest levels of gravitational physics, but can you, like, stop. We haven't even been introduced, shit's disconcerting.

[pioailurophobia]

...disregarding all of that incomprehensible mess, why do you have Lion's cloak?

[Sorry, Clocks. Kingslayer's metaphorical eyes glazed over halfway through your rant.]

[callbacks]

Huh? [He looks down.] Oh. Shit. I meant to give it back to him at the last thing, but then we got to talking about food and I found some stuff to be mildly concerning and distracted myself. I should probably wash it at this point, damn...

[pioailurophobia]

You probably should. It's rank—Lion's filthy enough most of the time that you don't notice how bad each individual piece of clothing smells, but on you it's painful.

[callbacks]

Hey. Dude's sensitive about his manly warrior stonk.

[pioailurophobia]

Just because he's sensitive about it doesn't make being around him any more bearable.

You know, I'd almost prefer it if I couldn't smell anything from in here. That way I wouldn't have to deal with the constant wafting odor of cheese whenever I'm around him.

[callbacks]

You always rag on people who aren't even around to hear it?

[pioailurophobia]

I tell him this to his face too.

[callbacks]

Oh. Guess that's fine, then. [Even if he's sensitive about it.] I wouldn't really want to get into it with you, seeing as you're a whole-ass suit of armor and I'm at best some extinct kind of juvenile heirloom string bean, but I would if I had to because he's an upstanding kind of asshole.

[pioailurophobia]

Oh, absolutely.

He's a good kind of upstanding asshole, at least. Keeps us all in line. It's hard to say no when he makes that... face, you know. Somewhere between "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed" and "If I were 1% less manly I would be crying right now."