Romeo chuckled , crossing his arms. “You can do your roleblockings at the bar!” He said maybe a bit too loud, lowering his voice. 

“And as I said, you won’t. No 10s for you till you get thrown out by the edge of your heel. Even if you’re bleeding and sweating.” He tapped her cheek, grinning rather wide. “No need to be proud bout’ it.”

She gasped, then positioned herself correctly. “How rude! I’d never roleblock at the bar. It is a public roleblock and the Mafioso would kill me, a poor townie, specialized in distraction.”

Katarina looked at him and especially the hand which tapped her cheek, scowling. “I’m not determined to lose anyway. We’ll see who’s the sore loser here, Consigliere.”

“You’d drunkenly kiss them though.” He stuck his tongue out. “You’re not poor to the mafia either, you’re poor to everybody else. The mafia would love to see you hanging, or better, completely dead.”

“And you’ll be sore, I might be a loser. I will not be losing to a woman with a glass in her hand who’ll be dancing with a guard. “ He shoved his hand into his pocket, continuing to grin. “Then again, lead the way to the bar.”

Her cheeks flared red from embarrassement as she kept the scowl on her face, squinting. “For the record I’d never kiss someone without their permission, let alone a stranger.”

And then she stood in silence. She couldn’t comeback that one. Although it was way far from right, so she clenched her fists and huffed. “Fine, we’re going. But be prepared to lose, loser.”

“You probably would. If they were hot you probably would, while drunk.” He shrugged, dropping the Cheshire -cat like grin. Hell, what do drunks do these days anyways?

“I’m prepared to loose, I won’t be the one banned.” He stood simply, waiting for her lead. “You might actually be sore though, depending on who you meet, yes?” He made sure to pull her fingers away from her hand while he said it.

She roughly grabbed his hand and pulled him forwards, pushing the door aside that led outside of the Mafia’s 'headquarters’ or whatever it was meant to be. “You know w-what? Just, shut up. We haven’t even gone there.”

“Like shut up. Who knows, maybe you get sore and I don’t even though I’m drunk.” The Disguiser’s cheeks were still a shade of red as she turned her head back to face him, looking as disappointed as she could be.

He chuckled again, blinking at the awkward change of light, “Why should I? I have a point to say you’d probably make lover eyes at whoever streaks past with a hot face.”

“I’d probably fall on my ass following you out of the bar, that’s why I’d be sore. And besides, I don’t have any fancies on getting it on with some drunk folk.” He hid the smirk he had, noticing her cheeks were not even faintly flushed.

“You have your fancies on to get your ass kicked though.” She shrugged, her steps being barely heard as her shoes collided against the ground that was entirely dirt.

“And you may have a point but it’s just not the face, alright?” She turned her body to face him completely, moonwalking. If she fell it’d be better, a natural chickening out. “It’s also the body and the personality!”

Romeo chuckled , crossing his arms. “You can do your roleblockings at the bar!” He said maybe a bit too loud, lowering his voice. 

“And as I said, you won’t. No 10s for you till you get thrown out by the edge of your heel. Even if you’re bleeding and sweating.” He tapped her cheek, grinning rather wide. “No need to be proud bout’ it.”

She gasped, then positioned herself correctly. “How rude! I’d never roleblock at the bar. It is a public roleblock and the Mafioso would kill me, a poor townie, specialized in distraction.”

Katarina looked at him and especially the hand which tapped her cheek, scowling. “I’m not determined to lose anyway. We’ll see who’s the sore loser here, Consigliere.”

“You’d drunkenly kiss them though.” He stuck his tongue out. “You’re not poor to the mafia either, you’re poor to everybody else. The mafia would love to see you hanging, or better, completely dead.”

“And you’ll be sore, I might be a loser. I will not be losing to a woman with a glass in her hand who’ll be dancing with a guard. “ He shoved his hand into his pocket, continuing to grin. “Then again, lead the way to the bar.”

Her cheeks flared red from embarrassement as she kept the scowl on her face, squinting. “For the record I’d never kiss someone without their permission, let alone a stranger.”

And then she stood in silence. She couldn’t comeback that one. Although it was way far from right, so she clenched her fists and huffed. “Fine, we’re going. But be prepared to lose, loser.”

“You probably would. If they were hot you probably would, while drunk.” He shrugged, dropping the Cheshire -cat like grin. Hell, what do drunks do these days anyways?

“I’m prepared to loose, I won’t be the one banned.” He stood simply, waiting for her lead. “You might actually be sore though, depending on who you meet, yes?” He made sure to pull her fingers away from her hand while he said it.

She roughly grabbed his hand and pulled him forwards, pushing the door aside that led outside of the Mafia’s 'headquarters’ or whatever it was meant to be. “You know w-what? Just, shut up. We haven’t even gone there.”

“Like shut up. Who knows, maybe you get sore and I don’t even though I’m drunk.” The Disguiser’s cheeks were still a shade of red as she turned her head back to face him, looking as disappointed as she could be.

Romeo chuckled , crossing his arms. “You can do your roleblockings at the bar!” He said maybe a bit too loud, lowering his voice. 

“And as I said, you won’t. No 10s for you till you get thrown out by the edge of your heel. Even if you’re bleeding and sweating.” He tapped her cheek, grinning rather wide. “No need to be proud bout’ it.”

She gasped, then positioned herself correctly. “How rude! I’d never roleblock at the bar. It is a public roleblock and the Mafioso would kill me, a poor townie, specialized in distraction.”

Katarina looked at him and especially the hand which tapped her cheek, scowling. “I’m not determined to lose anyway. We’ll see who’s the sore loser here, Consigliere.”

“You’d drunkenly kiss them though.” He stuck his tongue out. “You’re not poor to the mafia either, you’re poor to everybody else. The mafia would love to see you hanging, or better, completely dead.”

“And you’ll be sore, I might be a loser. I will not be losing to a woman with a glass in her hand who’ll be dancing with a guard. “ He shoved his hand into his pocket, continuing to grin. “Then again, lead the way to the bar.”

Her cheeks flared red from embarrassement as she kept the scowl on her face, squinting. “For the record I’d never kiss someone without their permission, let alone a stranger.”

And then she stood in silence. She couldn’t comeback that one. Although it was way far from right, so she clenched her fists and huffed. “Fine, we’re going. But be prepared to lose, loser.”

Romeo chuckled , crossing his arms. “You can do your roleblockings at the bar!” He said maybe a bit too loud, lowering his voice. 

“And as I said, you won’t. No 10s for you till you get thrown out by the edge of your heel. Even if you’re bleeding and sweating.” He tapped her cheek, grinning rather wide. “No need to be proud bout’ it.”

She gasped, then positioned herself correctly. “How rude! I’d never roleblock at the bar. It is a public roleblock and the Mafioso would kill me, a poor townie, specialized in distraction.”

Katarina looked at him and especially the hand which tapped her cheek, scowling. “I’m not determined to lose anyway. We’ll see who’s the sore loser here, Consigliere.”

Romeo burst out into laughter, watching her fight people with a mop for ajax grease and fairy liquid. “Jeez oh my fucking Lord! I understand why you’re an actress. You’re a murderous janitor! Save me the strength, pretend I clapped.”

He was still bloody laughing, there you go, you’ve killed him. “I surrender! How do I ever pay you to spare my soul? Cash, info, a drink, something more?” He eased off the laughing. She was a disguiser playing as a Janitor.

She pretends to momentarily drop her mop to clap in silence, then reached to pick it up and aim it at his forehead. "How about a drink? I’ll be even better if I get drunk and we’ll have a challenge of how quick I’ll be kicked out.” The Disguiser proposed with a grin.

Although the words ‘murderous janitor’ made her think of how horrible and rather ridiculous it’d be if the Janitor just snapped. But aside that, her offer still stood. Maybe she wouldn’t be kicked out this time.

“Deal. I’ll pay for how many it’ll take you to get drunk aswell.” He pushes the fake mop down from his head, a grin easily spreading across his face. “Heavy drinker or light drinker? Set kind?”

He’d love to see her get kicked out, treating a woman to a bar he barely knew, watching a woman probably get kicked out for possibly another time. “Am I allowed to bet on how many drinks it’ll take you to get kicked out?” He was obviously a professional gambler. He’d love to know his stakes.

“You may bet,” She allowed herself to grin as he raised the imaginary mop that was placed above his head, faking a look of surprise. “I thought that was too heavy for you, mister Consigliere.”

“And for this one I’ll be a heavy drinker. Just so you know, I haven’t gotten drunk in over one year,” The Disguiser stuck her tongue out, accepting the challenge that the Consigliere set. “Let me see your best! If you’re right I’ll give you a good amount of well, money.” She wouldn’t give him money, she lied. He could get that money himself.

“It is. My skull is being crushed as we speak, so that’s why I am paying for it all.” He literally had to bend to pretend to be crushed by a mop. The joys of being a tall guy. “Fun fun fun.”

“One year? Heavy drinker? Shocking.” He couldn’t be serious while crouching. “It’ll take you bout 5..6 drinks with a full pint, 20 with shots, 15-20 with other.” He shrugged, he wasn’t an alcohol expert.

“You’re too smart, mister Consigliere.” She pretended to drop the mop, turning away from him with a scowl. “I hope I drink 4 of the pint glasses and get instantly drunk just so you are inaccurate.” Or more, but definitely not 5 or 6.

“You suffer a lot. Having to know what the other is- and I mean what they are role wise and also get killed by a mop? A lot of suffering I wish I never go through.” Her face was of fake empathy, obviously joking.

“When was I a sir, or mister, by the way?” He got up, not yelling out at the pain of standing up. Screw legs. “4.5 rounded up would still be 5, so drink 4.5 of a pint.”

“And I do, I get killed by an excellent disguiser, actress, sanitation expert wielding a mop. The best suffering in the book, darling.” He shrugged, patting his pockets for money. Maybe him dying made him an amnesiac, cool.

“Me, an excellent disguiser. Alright.” She hunches down in a position where her hair would cover her head and not leave any space for him to stare, her hands on her knees.

“I’m the traaashman. I come out and I throw trash!” Her voice was shallow, not even trying to hold back any snickers, unlike when she actually was on stage. “And I’m not giving you half of the victory! I’ll give you no victory instead.”

He stared down at her, kicking her shin gently. “Yes, excellent disguiser, brilliant trash man and drunk woman. 9.5/10, no costume.”

Unlike her, he was laughing as she started her horrific debut of the trash man. “And please do, save it for the bar, you’ll have money thrown at you there. It’ll be your victory then.

“Well excuse me princess for not having a costume ready. I want that 0.5 back.” She raised herself up and put the hair that covered her face back, the strands of hair now messy.

“And getting money thrown at me?“ The Disguiser looked around, before stepping closer to him, pulling the fake whisper gig. “Do I look like a Consort to you? I’m the “Disguiser”, slash Serial Killer and slash Janitor. Basically, everything.”

“I’m a mister, not a princess. An actress is always ready aswell, so minus 0.5 for talking back, and minus 9 for being unprepared.” He grinned, what a great actress, 11/10.

He flicked her head, shrugging. “Who knows, even the most murderous, cleanest, identity changing people can be sluts. Maybe even if you put on a ginger wig and red dress, you’ll get tips. Plus, you said you were everything, so you ARE a consort in retrospect.

Her lips were a straight line as she blinked thrice, looking at him with a judgemental gaze. “Well now I want my 10 back.” She made the grabby hands gesture, but only with her right hand.

“And in retrospect, yes. I might be a Consort.” Have you ever regretted something so much? Because she did. “What are you going to do about it, Consigliere? Out me to the townies?” If she could- or wanted to, the Disguiser could make herself look like the Consort without effort even.

“You don’t deserve a 10, you killed me with a mop.” He crossed his arms, doing the stereotypical disappointed father expression. “Not until the bet is up, that’s when you get your 10.”

“I’ll out you to the townies of roleblocking the ‘investigator’, they’ll b on you like a moth to a flame.” He winked, no way would she believe that. “I even have you admitting it, it’d be amazing.” 

“Well that Investigator deserved his roleblocking. He didn’t even find us any Mafia members... despite being Mafia himself,” She returned that wink back at him, and then pretended to actually swoon. “But oh, how could I? I prevented him from finding Mafia. Such a good Escort.”

Now she was mixing up what was going on, which made her also confused about what she really was, according to the investigative results. As her back was arched, she gave him a cold and harsh glance. “I’ll get that 10 with my blood and sweat!”

hey lets play how hot is that character

send me a muse XD

I’m in the process of making the wardrobe asks + a group photo so don’t think I’ve gone on hiatus.

I’ll prolly spam (some of) your ask boxes so be prepared lmao

Romeo burst out into laughter, watching her fight people with a mop for ajax grease and fairy liquid. “Jeez oh my fucking Lord! I understand why you’re an actress. You’re a murderous janitor! Save me the strength, pretend I clapped.”

He was still bloody laughing, there you go, you’ve killed him. “I surrender! How do I ever pay you to spare my soul? Cash, info, a drink, something more?” He eased off the laughing. She was a disguiser playing as a Janitor.

She pretends to momentarily drop her mop to clap in silence, then reached to pick it up and aim it at his forehead. "How about a drink? I’ll be even better if I get drunk and we’ll have a challenge of how quick I’ll be kicked out.” The Disguiser proposed with a grin.

Although the words ‘murderous janitor’ made her think of how horrible and rather ridiculous it’d be if the Janitor just snapped. But aside that, her offer still stood. Maybe she wouldn’t be kicked out this time.

“Deal. I’ll pay for how many it’ll take you to get drunk aswell.” He pushes the fake mop down from his head, a grin easily spreading across his face. “Heavy drinker or light drinker? Set kind?”

He’d love to see her get kicked out, treating a woman to a bar he barely knew, watching a woman probably get kicked out for possibly another time. “Am I allowed to bet on how many drinks it’ll take you to get kicked out?” He was obviously a professional gambler. He’d love to know his stakes.

“You may bet,” She allowed herself to grin as he raised the imaginary mop that was placed above his head, faking a look of surprise. “I thought that was too heavy for you, mister Consigliere.”

“And for this one I’ll be a heavy drinker. Just so you know, I haven’t gotten drunk in over one year,” The Disguiser stuck her tongue out, accepting the challenge that the Consigliere set. “Let me see your best! If you’re right I’ll give you a good amount of well, money.” She wouldn’t give him money, she lied. He could get that money himself.

“It is. My skull is being crushed as we speak, so that’s why I am paying for it all.” He literally had to bend to pretend to be crushed by a mop. The joys of being a tall guy. “Fun fun fun.”

“One year? Heavy drinker? Shocking.” He couldn’t be serious while crouching. “It’ll take you bout 5..6 drinks with a full pint, 20 with shots, 15-20 with other.” He shrugged, he wasn’t an alcohol expert.

“You’re too smart, mister Consigliere.” She pretended to drop the mop, turning away from him with a scowl. “I hope I drink 4 of the pint glasses and get instantly drunk just so you are inaccurate.” Or more, but definitely not 5 or 6.

“You suffer a lot. Having to know what the other is- and I mean what they are role wise and also get killed by a mop? A lot of suffering I wish I never go through.” Her face was of fake empathy, obviously joking.

“When was I a sir, or mister, by the way?” He got up, not yelling out at the pain of standing up. Screw legs. “4.5 rounded up would still be 5, so drink 4.5 of a pint.”

“And I do, I get killed by an excellent disguiser, actress, sanitation expert wielding a mop. The best suffering in the book, darling.” He shrugged, patting his pockets for money. Maybe him dying made him an amnesiac, cool.

“Me, an excellent disguiser. Alright.” She hunches down in a position where her hair would cover her head and not leave any space for him to stare, her hands on her knees.

“I’m the traaashman. I come out and I throw trash!” Her voice was shallow, not even trying to hold back any snickers, unlike when she actually was on stage. “And I’m not giving you half of the victory! I’ll give you no victory instead.”

He stared down at her, kicking her shin gently. “Yes, excellent disguiser, brilliant trash man and drunk woman. 9.5/10, no costume.”

Unlike her, he was laughing as she started her horrific debut of the trash man. “And please do, save it for the bar, you’ll have money thrown at you there. It’ll be your victory then.

“Well excuse me princess for not having a costume ready. I want that 0.5 back.” She raised herself up and put the hair that covered her face back, the strands of hair now messy.

“And getting money thrown at me?“ The Disguiser looked around, before stepping closer to him, pulling the fake whisper gig. “Do I look like a Consort to you? I’m the “Disguiser”, slash Serial Killer and slash Janitor. Basically, everything.”

“I’m a mister, not a princess. An actress is always ready aswell, so minus 0.5 for talking back, and minus 9 for being unprepared.” He grinned, what a great actress, 11/10.

He flicked her head, shrugging. “Who knows, even the most murderous, cleanest, identity changing people can be sluts. Maybe even if you put on a ginger wig and red dress, you’ll get tips. Plus, you said you were everything, so you ARE a consort in retrospect.

Her lips were a straight line as she blinked thrice, looking at him with a judgemental gaze. “Well now I want my 10 back.” She made the grabby hands gesture, but only with her right hand.

“And in retrospect, yes. I might be a Consort.” Have you ever regretted something so much? Because she did. “What are you going to do about it, Consigliere? Out me to the townies?” If she could- or wanted to, the Disguiser could make herself look like the Consort without effort even.

(x)

She scratched her chin. “Have I gotten drunk here yet?” she muttered to herself. She looked at Katarina. “You got any ideas who it might be from? ”

“Well it might be what I said but it could also be someone getting the wrong person?” She looked back at Amelia, looking away from her as she thought. “You never know. But I’ll come with you, just in case it’s some sort of a trap.”

“Wouldn’t say I need anyone if it ends up bein a trap…” She stood up. “But what’s the harm in it, aye?”

“Yeah, you’re right. At least I could be a witness if anything happens but, let’s hope it’s actually a mistake by someone.” She also stood up, dusting off her skirt, even though it was unnecessary.

65 Questions You Aren't Used To

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

3. The person you would never want to meet?

4. What is your favorite word?

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

7. What shirt are you wearing?

8. What do you label yourself as?

9. Bright room or dark room?

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

12. Who told you they loved you last?

13. Your worst enemy?

14. What is your current desktop picture?

15. Do you like someone?

16. The last song you listened to?

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? 

29. What is your favorite expletive?

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

34. What was your last dream about?

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

38. What is the color of your socks?

39. What type of music do you like?

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

43. Do you have any scars?

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

46. Are you reliable?

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

48. Do you hold grudges?

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

51. Are you a good liar?

52. How long could you go without talking?

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

56. What do you like on your toast?

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

58. What would be you dream car?

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

64. What do you think about babies?

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

((hell yeah,))

Romeo burst out into laughter, watching her fight people with a mop for ajax grease and fairy liquid. “Jeez oh my fucking Lord! I understand why you’re an actress. You’re a murderous janitor! Save me the strength, pretend I clapped.”

He was still bloody laughing, there you go, you’ve killed him. “I surrender! How do I ever pay you to spare my soul? Cash, info, a drink, something more?” He eased off the laughing. She was a disguiser playing as a Janitor.

She pretends to momentarily drop her mop to clap in silence, then reached to pick it up and aim it at his forehead. "How about a drink? I’ll be even better if I get drunk and we’ll have a challenge of how quick I’ll be kicked out.” The Disguiser proposed with a grin.

Although the words ‘murderous janitor’ made her think of how horrible and rather ridiculous it’d be if the Janitor just snapped. But aside that, her offer still stood. Maybe she wouldn’t be kicked out this time.

“Deal. I’ll pay for how many it’ll take you to get drunk aswell.” He pushes the fake mop down from his head, a grin easily spreading across his face. “Heavy drinker or light drinker? Set kind?”

He’d love to see her get kicked out, treating a woman to a bar he barely knew, watching a woman probably get kicked out for possibly another time. “Am I allowed to bet on how many drinks it’ll take you to get kicked out?” He was obviously a professional gambler. He’d love to know his stakes.

“You may bet,” She allowed herself to grin as he raised the imaginary mop that was placed above his head, faking a look of surprise. “I thought that was too heavy for you, mister Consigliere.”

“And for this one I’ll be a heavy drinker. Just so you know, I haven’t gotten drunk in over one year,” The Disguiser stuck her tongue out, accepting the challenge that the Consigliere set. “Let me see your best! If you’re right I’ll give you a good amount of well, money.” She wouldn’t give him money, she lied. He could get that money himself.

“It is. My skull is being crushed as we speak, so that’s why I am paying for it all.” He literally had to bend to pretend to be crushed by a mop. The joys of being a tall guy. “Fun fun fun.”

“One year? Heavy drinker? Shocking.” He couldn’t be serious while crouching. “It’ll take you bout 5..6 drinks with a full pint, 20 with shots, 15-20 with other.” He shrugged, he wasn’t an alcohol expert.

“You’re too smart, mister Consigliere.” She pretended to drop the mop, turning away from him with a scowl. “I hope I drink 4 of the pint glasses and get instantly drunk just so you are inaccurate.” Or more, but definitely not 5 or 6.

“You suffer a lot. Having to know what the other is- and I mean what they are role wise and also get killed by a mop? A lot of suffering I wish I never go through.” Her face was of fake empathy, obviously joking.

“When was I a sir, or mister, by the way?” He got up, not yelling out at the pain of standing up. Screw legs. “4.5 rounded up would still be 5, so drink 4.5 of a pint.”

“And I do, I get killed by an excellent disguiser, actress, sanitation expert wielding a mop. The best suffering in the book, darling.” He shrugged, patting his pockets for money. Maybe him dying made him an amnesiac, cool.

“Me, an excellent disguiser. Alright.” She hunches down in a position where her hair would cover her head and not leave any space for him to stare, her hands on her knees.

“I’m the traaashman. I come out and I throw trash!” Her voice was shallow, not even trying to hold back any snickers, unlike when she actually was on stage. “And I’m not giving you half of the victory! I’ll give you no victory instead.”

He stared down at her, kicking her shin gently. “Yes, excellent disguiser, brilliant trash man and drunk woman. 9.5/10, no costume.”

Unlike her, he was laughing as she started her horrific debut of the trash man. “And please do, save it for the bar, you’ll have money thrown at you there. It’ll be your victory then.

“Well excuse me princess for not having a costume ready. I want that 0.5 back.” She raised herself up and put the hair that covered her face back, the strands of hair now messy.

“And getting money thrown at me?" The Disguiser looked around, before stepping closer to him, pulling the fake whisper gig. “Do I look like a Consort to you? I’m the “Disguiser”, slash Serial Killer and slash Janitor. Basically, everything.”

Romeo burst out into laughter, watching her fight people with a mop for ajax grease and fairy liquid. “Jeez oh my fucking Lord! I understand why you’re an actress. You’re a murderous janitor! Save me the strength, pretend I clapped.”

He was still bloody laughing, there you go, you’ve killed him. “I surrender! How do I ever pay you to spare my soul? Cash, info, a drink, something more?” He eased off the laughing. She was a disguiser playing as a Janitor.

She pretends to momentarily drop her mop to clap in silence, then reached to pick it up and aim it at his forehead. "How about a drink? I’ll be even better if I get drunk and we’ll have a challenge of how quick I’ll be kicked out.” The Disguiser proposed with a grin.

Although the words ‘murderous janitor’ made her think of how horrible and rather ridiculous it’d be if the Janitor just snapped. But aside that, her offer still stood. Maybe she wouldn’t be kicked out this time.

“Deal. I’ll pay for how many it’ll take you to get drunk aswell.” He pushes the fake mop down from his head, a grin easily spreading across his face. “Heavy drinker or light drinker? Set kind?”

He’d love to see her get kicked out, treating a woman to a bar he barely knew, watching a woman probably get kicked out for possibly another time. “Am I allowed to bet on how many drinks it’ll take you to get kicked out?” He was obviously a professional gambler. He’d love to know his stakes.

“You may bet,” She allowed herself to grin as he raised the imaginary mop that was placed above his head, faking a look of surprise. “I thought that was too heavy for you, mister Consigliere.”

“And for this one I’ll be a heavy drinker. Just so you know, I haven’t gotten drunk in over one year,” The Disguiser stuck her tongue out, accepting the challenge that the Consigliere set. “Let me see your best! If you’re right I’ll give you a good amount of well, money.” She wouldn’t give him money, she lied. He could get that money himself.

“It is. My skull is being crushed as we speak, so that’s why I am paying for it all.” He literally had to bend to pretend to be crushed by a mop. The joys of being a tall guy. “Fun fun fun.”

“One year? Heavy drinker? Shocking.” He couldn’t be serious while crouching. “It’ll take you bout 5..6 drinks with a full pint, 20 with shots, 15-20 with other.” He shrugged, he wasn’t an alcohol expert.

“You’re too smart, mister Consigliere.” She pretended to drop the mop, turning away from him with a scowl. “I hope I drink 4 of the pint glasses and get instantly drunk just so you are inaccurate.” Or more, but definitely not 5 or 6.

“You suffer a lot. Having to know what the other is- and I mean what they are role wise and also get killed by a mop? A lot of suffering I wish I never go through.” Her face was of fake empathy, obviously joking.

“When was I a sir, or mister, by the way?” He got up, not yelling out at the pain of standing up. Screw legs. “4.5 rounded up would still be 5, so drink 4.5 of a pint.”

“And I do, I get killed by an excellent disguiser, actress, sanitation expert wielding a mop. The best suffering in the book, darling.” He shrugged, patting his pockets for money. Maybe him dying made him an amnesiac, cool.

“Me, an excellent disguiser. Alright.” She hunches down in a position where her hair would cover her head and not leave any space for him to stare, her hands on her knees.

“I’m the traaashman. I come out and I throw trash!” Her voice was shallow, not even trying to hold back any snickers, unlike when she actually was on stage. “And I’m not giving you half of the victory! I’ll give you no victory instead.”

Romeo burst out into laughter, watching her fight people with a mop for ajax grease and fairy liquid. “Jeez oh my fucking Lord! I understand why you’re an actress. You’re a murderous janitor! Save me the strength, pretend I clapped.”

He was still bloody laughing, there you go, you’ve killed him. “I surrender! How do I ever pay you to spare my soul? Cash, info, a drink, something more?” He eased off the laughing. She was a disguiser playing as a Janitor.

She pretends to momentarily drop her mop to clap in silence, then reached to pick it up and aim it at his forehead. "How about a drink? I’ll be even better if I get drunk and we’ll have a challenge of how quick I’ll be kicked out.” The Disguiser proposed with a grin.

Although the words ‘murderous janitor’ made her think of how horrible and rather ridiculous it’d be if the Janitor just snapped. But aside that, her offer still stood. Maybe she wouldn’t be kicked out this time.

“Deal. I’ll pay for how many it’ll take you to get drunk aswell.” He pushes the fake mop down from his head, a grin easily spreading across his face. “Heavy drinker or light drinker? Set kind?”

He’d love to see her get kicked out, treating a woman to a bar he barely knew, watching a woman probably get kicked out for possibly another time. “Am I allowed to bet on how many drinks it’ll take you to get kicked out?” He was obviously a professional gambler. He’d love to know his stakes.

“You may bet,” She allowed herself to grin as he raised the imaginary mop that was placed above his head, faking a look of surprise. “I thought that was too heavy for you, mister Consigliere.”

“And for this one I’ll be a heavy drinker. Just so you know, I haven’t gotten drunk in over one year,” The Disguiser stuck her tongue out, accepting the challenge that the Consigliere set. “Let me see your best! If you’re right I’ll give you a good amount of well, money.” She wouldn’t give him money, she lied. He could get that money himself.

“It is. My skull is being crushed as we speak, so that’s why I am paying for it all.” He literally had to bend to pretend to be crushed by a mop. The joys of being a tall guy. “Fun fun fun.”

“One year? Heavy drinker? Shocking.” He couldn’t be serious while crouching. “It’ll take you bout 5..6 drinks with a full pint, 20 with shots, 15-20 with other.” He shrugged, he wasn’t an alcohol expert.

“You’re too smart, mister Consigliere.” She pretended to drop the mop, turning away from him with a scowl. “I hope I drink 4 of the pint glasses and get instantly drunk just so you are inaccurate.” Or more, but definitely not 5 or 6.

“You suffer a lot. Having to know what the other is- and I mean what they are role wise and also get killed by a mop? A lot of suffering I wish I never go through.” Her face was of fake empathy, obviously joking.

Romeo burst out into laughter, watching her fight people with a mop for ajax grease and fairy liquid. “Jeez oh my fucking Lord! I understand why you’re an actress. You’re a murderous janitor! Save me the strength, pretend I clapped.”

He was still bloody laughing, there you go, you’ve killed him. “I surrender! How do I ever pay you to spare my soul? Cash, info, a drink, something more?” He eased off the laughing. She was a disguiser playing as a Janitor.

She pretends to momentarily drop her mop to clap in silence, then reached to pick it up and aim it at his forehead. "How about a drink? I’ll be even better if I get drunk and we’ll have a challenge of how quick I’ll be kicked out.” The Disguiser proposed with a grin.

Although the words ‘murderous janitor’ made her think of how horrible and rather ridiculous it’d be if the Janitor just snapped. But aside that, her offer still stood. Maybe she wouldn’t be kicked out this time.

“Deal. I’ll pay for how many it’ll take you to get drunk aswell.” He pushes the fake mop down from his head, a grin easily spreading across his face. “Heavy drinker or light drinker? Set kind?”

He’d love to see her get kicked out, treating a woman to a bar he barely knew, watching a woman probably get kicked out for possibly another time. “Am I allowed to bet on how many drinks it’ll take you to get kicked out?” He was obviously a professional gambler. He’d love to know his stakes.

“You may bet,” She allowed herself to grin as he raised the imaginary mop that was placed above his head, faking a look of surprise. “I thought that was too heavy for you, mister Consigliere.”

“And for this one I’ll be a heavy drinker. Just so you know, I haven’t gotten drunk in over one year,” The Disguiser stuck her tongue out, accepting the challenge that the Consigliere set. “Let me see your best! If you’re right I’ll give you a good amount of well, money.” She wouldn’t give him money, she lied. He could get that money himself.

(x)

She scratched her chin. “Have I gotten drunk here yet?” she muttered to herself. She looked at Katarina. “You got any ideas who it might be from? ”

“Well it might be what I said but it could also be someone getting the wrong person?” She looked back at Amelia, looking away from her as she thought. “You never know. But I’ll come with you, just in case it’s some sort of a trap.”

askdisguiser

“don’t worry about it- people often crack in times of stress, so it’s normal!” gil replied. whether he was genuine in his apology or not, he did feel a bit of guilt. 

gil looked back at the disguiser whose body was turned away. the guilt of lying- it seemed so raw to him, unbearable, even, before… and now he just couldn’t really bother. either way, in the end, they were people on the same side, so they should, well, comfort each other when they need it, right? (well, the problem, was how did you comfort people.) 

“…i hope you feel better soon.” 

but… in the end he just stood there, at a loss for any more comforting words. 

“Yeah. Before I come here, that happened a lot. The actors were stressed out and upset.” But she never comforted them, anyway, because most of the times she was in the same place as them, although the anxiety of performing infront of a number of people was overcome with some type of joy Katarina could never explain.

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Thanks. I mean, for the entire don’t worry thing.” She glared at him briefly from the corner of her eye, not fully prepared to face him again. Turning her back to him wasn’t nice either, but she didn’t have the courage yet.

It was like her first performance where her eyes were drawn from the crowd and she spoke fast, so fast, that it made her throat dry and her chest weigh down as if tied with a rock, dragging her down in the endless sea.

And the silence didn’t help. It was eerie and in this moment, uncomfortable. Silence was always calming but in this suitation it felt like clawing and nagging at her to speak.

“Still, thank you. I-I appreciate that.” Her voice cracked.

“well, being an actor is pretty… well, what can i say, it’s hard work- you have to memorize lines and look all pretty and act convincing to the crowd. i can understand that,” katarina being an actor was something that gil never really knew, so… well, that was something new he learnt. he had never experienced much anxiety, though- only when put under pressure then he was stressed and desperate. stress wasn’t the best emotion to have, really.

“hey, you’re welcome… uh, it’s what anyone would do?” he replied, a sheepish grin on his face. he’d never understand anyone’s feelings, really – he always seemed to have a problem to not be able to step into people’s shoes; he wanted to let people know that it’s fine, though. humans will be humans.

the silence was getting uncomfortable for both of them though, he observed, maybe they should change the subject? or maybe share his own experiences… that’s how things worked.

“hey, like i said, no worries! i’m pretty bad at lying myself, really- i only hope that my tone and body language manage to make it work!” 

“That’s right! Voice and body language are key. Trust me, I’m an actress. Or maybe was. I’m not too sure anymore of that, I guess I’m not but I’m still so very known,” She let out a chuckle of uncertainty as she spun on her heels and turned to look at him, not directly, of course, but still be able to not turn her back to him. Katarina always considered that gesture rude and was taught to believe it was. Even though it was purely because of defense, it still was rude.

“In acting, your movements should be fluid and your voice clear and loud! For we shan’t be able to hear you speak,” Basically she meant to say you should know what you’re doing but that’s most of the time inaccurate and that was too blunt for her. She didn’t like to be blunt when unnecessary.

The Disguiser’s body moved as she expressed herself and her own words, putting emphasis on well, everywhere. That was one of the many problems she had. Being overly obnoxious about something she liked or used to do.

“But I believe lying takes practice. Like performing, it’s an act. And an act of defense! Well, for us, it’s an act of defense. Don’t want the Family to get ripped to shreds now, do we?”