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01 July 2008 @ 11:31 pm
 
Who: Laurent and Fonso
When: Midday
Where: The Big Top

"Fuck!"

Laurent sucked on his thumb and glared at the offending needle. It was protruding through his coat about three centimetres away from where it was supposed to be. He pulled the needle back through and tried again, this time holding the button more delicately and going slower so as not to stab himself a second time. The tip pushed through about two centimetres away from the button. A mild improvement.

He tossed the coat on the ground in exasperation and sniffed disdainfully. It was womens work anyway. There was no shame in not knowing how to sew. If those degenerates hadn't run off he wouldn't have to do his own sewing. Maybe he could get Stella to do it for him...

He examined his thumb, squeezing the tip so a drop of bright crimson blood welled from the wound. He swore again, this time less audibly.

Laurent turned at the noise of someone approaching. He scrutinised the figure of Mama Mambo, accompanied by a strange boy. Frowning, he wiped his hand on his pants and picked up the coat, trying to concentrate on his sewing.

"Brought us more fresh meat?" there was a hint of malice in the last word, and he smirked at his sewing without looking up.
 
 
 
Papa Love & Mama Mambo: mambo dark smilelove_and_mambo on July 1st, 2008 02:00 pm (UTC)
Leaving Fonso's side, Mama Mambo leant over, putting her face close to Laurent's. She put a finger under his chin and made him meet her gaze.

"Now, you didn't mean to take that tone with me, did you? This is our newest recruit, Laurent, not 'fresh meat.'" She held his gaze for a moment or two longer then ubruptly straightened.

"He's our contortionist. Shows a lot of skill, but needs some polish. That'll be your job." Without waiting for Laurent's reaction, she turned, flashed Fonso a warm smile, then stode back to her caravan with a flourish of skirts, leaving the boy in the ringmaster's care.
vultus_ut_polus on July 1st, 2008 06:00 pm (UTC)
The apprehension that Fonso felt when first meeting Mama Mambo and the apprehension he felt now around this...Laurent were almost two separate entities. Being called fresh meat really couldn't have been a good thing after all, and Fonso actually contemplated for a moment whether or not that meant he'd be eaten any time soon. Of course, he found himself staring upwards at the cloudless sky far after Ma Mambo had already left, his hands clasped behind his back.

Only after shaking away thoughts of cannibalism did he turn to glance at Laurent once more, his hands clasped behind his back as he leaned over to examine the other's work.

"...there, see. You have missed a stitch."
Tamell: Laurent Deschanellmethuselan on July 3rd, 2008 11:59 pm (UTC)
As Mambo walked away, Laurent shuddered and returned to his sewing. That woman gave him the creeps. He fumed silently for a while at being told what to do by a lunatic, and succeeded in getting the needle through the coat in roughly the right place. All the while, he was determined to ignore this boy. See how long it would take him to speak up.

When he did speak up, Laurent fixed him with a stare that would melt paint. Inside, however, he was exhuberant. Despite what Mambo had said, this was going to be fun.

He stood, and despite being roughly the same height as the boy, seemed to tower over him. Taking a few deliberate steps towards him, his eyes boring into this newcommer, he spoke in a low, careful tone.

"Were you talking to me?" he said, coming to a halt mere inches from the boy. Intimidation was one of his most favourite things in the world, and he was damn good at it.
vultus_ut_polus on July 4th, 2008 12:16 am (UTC)
Fonso wondered if this was the part where he was supposed to ask just how long he would last without being eaten. He remained silent though, eyebrows arched and lips pursed at the near glare that the other shot his way. This...boy, man, whatever he happened to be had to be joking. Any man who did his own sewing probably couldn't throw a punch to save his life. It was that knowledge alone that had a smirk curling over Fonso's lips, shoulders shaking with surpressed laughter.

"No, monsieur. See, those ants down 'zere?" He even gestured towards them. "Horrible seamstresses, ants are."
Tamell: Laurent Deschanellmethuselan on July 7th, 2008 02:40 am (UTC)
Laurent didn't even glance at the ants. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the boys face. He was stuck between being furious, and being completely shocked. In an attempt to save himself any stress, Laurent made the decision then and there that the boy was simple. Firm in this belief, he took a step back and examined the boy more closely.

He was young, definitely younger than him, his fresh face making him think he was nothing more than a teenager. A simple teenager. He was dressed well enough, but still obviously poor.

He sniffed, still holding the coat and needle.

"So what is it you do?" he said, ignoring his comment.