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 Posted: Wed Aug 22, 2012 5:24 pm
 vs 
SCENARIO
That crunching underfoot wasn't just a bug. Van and Bataar duke it out after the lumbering Mongol has crushed one of her precious lipsticks.
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Kayakurai generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
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Posted: Wed Aug 22, 2012 5:25 pm
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Posted: Fri Aug 24, 2012 2:56 am
It was an important event. Nothing along the lines of an undercover mission or her best friend’s wedding, but important enough to warrant dressing up a bit more than usual—a hot date, if you will. Van had spent the better part of the evening getting ready, busying herself to the point that it was quite easy to ignore her Mongolian roommate. She’d dressed smartly in a sparkly black minidress, accessorized accordingly, and had spent a ridiculous amount of time on her hair. Not a single strand was out of place, and now her makeup was just about done, except for one thing. Lipstick was always last for the Legionnaire captain, and this was where the problem arose.
The tube wasn’t in her makeup trunk. It wasn’t that the woman didn’t have plenty of lipstick; she could fill boxes with the tubes she owned. What made this particular one different was that it was the perfect shade of rosy pink for the night’s occasion, and the stuff was damn expensive. Thus began something of a frenzy on Van’s side of the ger, as she upturned shelves and drawers in search of the missing item.
Pausing after she’d done, Van peered around the ger, as if somehow the thing had managed to roll out of her drawers and into the common area. Her attention was drawn to a dark smudge on the rug, which, upon closer inspection, was the flattened remains of the very lippie she’d been looking for.
There was no question who’d done it. Scooping up the crushed pink remains and the ruined cap in one hand (she’d get mad about the rug later), she practically stomped over to confront Bataar, who seemed infuriatingly oblivious. He wasn’t getting away with this—give him an inch and he’d take a mile. “Bat,” she barked, shoving the mess in her hands under his nose, “What the hell?”
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Posted: Fri Aug 24, 2012 7:41 am
He was already pissed off for a number of reasons, and trying to sleep wasn't exactly helping him to keep his grip on sanity. That was because Van was buzzing around, preparing to go out with some Legionnaire scum or other. The amount of time she'd spent and the amount of noise she'd made had prevented him from even successfully closing his eyes, and his irritation was only growing.
Bat had been reduced to lying on his back in the bed, his green eyes caught up in the examination of the ceiling when Van discovered the lipstick he'd crushed. In all honesty, he hadn't really noticed as he'd crossed the room earlier. He'd had time to note that it was Van's, and that it was on the floor quite near his side of the ger, but beyond that he hadn't cared. Something so small could hardly hold any great value, after all, and it had looked like a sort of tool a child might use for coloring.
The behemoth had known he would surely catch some grief for the stain on the floor, and he assumed that that was exactly what was happening as Van marched up. Before he knew it, he had the shards of a lipstick tube a little too close to his face for comfort. "Don't 'what the hell' me," he growled moodily, his green eyes fastening onto his roommate.
He really didn't need to be any more irritated right now. "You're mad about that thing? You left it on the floor," he pointed out, sitting up and making a show of stretching. "Besides, it looks to me like you have bigger problems than that, woman," he added smugly, steeling himself for the slap that was sure to come after he'd finished speaking. "Your boobs are fixing to fall out of that scrap of cloth you call a dress."
He was screwed, especially considering the fact that roommates visually groping each other was totally off-limits and inappropriate. Still, he had a right to comment, because he had some experience with women and gravity was definitely an important factor when it came to getting dressed.
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Posted: Fri Aug 24, 2012 1:19 pm
There were a lot of things that Van had learned to tolerate from Bataar in the time they’d lived together as roommates. This wasn’t due to any significant personality growth, but more because neither of them could really afford to be getting into fistfights over every little thing. Most of the time they had an uneasy truce, punctuated by the occasional barb in the form of a dry insult or an openhanded slap. There were a handful of things that crossed the line every single time, though, and by this point she was absolutely sure that Bataar knew what they were.
Van would have been more than happy to oblige him, when the words tumbled out of his mouth, since he was asking for a fight. She took a deep breath through her nose. The more reasonable part of her reminded her that her date was about to knock on the door any minute now, expecting no less than a picture perfect Van to greet him. She shouldn’t, couldn’t get into a fight with the roommate right now, but the anger was spreading through her bones and it would feel so good just to punch the insolent Mongol in the face, just once.
Another deep breath, and before Van could help herself, she’d palmed the tenryujin’s face, rubbing pink all over his features in some form of childish retaliation. It’d taken but a few moments, but when she’d finished the sight of his face was so entertaining that even the captain couldn’t help but laugh aloud. The sound rang mirthless in the charged air of their ger. That was good enough for now—they’d fight later, when the time was more opportune, probably the next time Van passed the pink stain on the rug.
She turned her back to leave.
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