(no subject)

[what_ho_jeeves]

Who: Bertie Wooster and OPEN
What: A Wooster about town
When: All day today-ish
Where: Various locations
Notes & Warnings: Multiple starters in the post, or feel free to add your own! Prose or action spam both welcome.

Comments

Gardens

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie strolled the garden paths with his hat on (now lined with tinfoil) and wangee in hand. He peered up at the clouds as a bit of thunder grumbled. He hoped that the heavens wouldn’t open up and Sturm and Drang upon him. Leastwise not unlike he’d finished his walk and his errands for the day.

/late tags ooops

[tawarwaith]

Tauriel had been taking a walk in the gardens to try and make herself feel better since she was still getting over a bout of the Neural flu. She had her tinfoil hat on as required, even if the ting made her head feel hot and uncomfortable. She was not expecting anyone to be in the gardens, not with the weather threatening to turn like it was, so she was surprised to see someone else walking the opposite way down the path.

np!

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie was in a light mood, despite the dark clouds. He'd seen the red-haired woman with the peculiar ears around before. She had a terribly fine profile, the sort that would have had Bingo Little declaring his eternal love within seconds, forgetting entirely about the last eternal love.

"What ho!" He politely tipped his hat to her.

Re: np!

[tawarwaith]

At once she is worried about him catching Neural flu even at the slightest tipping of his hat. Before she could voice any such concern however, he had the hat back on. She let out a breath and tried her best to smile, though his greeting was strange to her. Elven greetings sounded strange when translated out of her native tongue, but as she had nothing else to greet him by, it was what she defaulted to. She placed her hand over her heart and inclined her head towards him, trying to be as regal as possible.

"A star shines on the hour of our meeting."

Yes it sounded random, even to her.

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie looked at her, wrinkled his nose in confusion, looked at the cloudy daytime sky.

"Does it? I should think that this time of day it would be the sun."

[tawarwaith]

"Is the sun not a star?" She had been watching educational videos while trapped more or less in her room while she fought off the Neural flu.

Smiley's Bookshop

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie was looking for a little light r. for the evenings, something with excitement, mystery. Hard boiled American detectives were always a smash. Or stories with ghosts in them. Something that wasn’t too taxing on the old grey matter, as Monsieur Poirot would call it.

But he also felt that he should buy something to bring back to Jeeves when he returned home. Thus, he found himself peering at the books in the philosophy section, holding Nietzsche’s Also sprach Zarathustra in one hand and Marx’s Das Kapital in the other and looking befuddledly between them.

[likeaswift]

George Smiley liked the bookshop; there was a faint whiff of the Bodleian about it in the more obscure corners of the place, and he felt pleasantly at home. So much so that he wondered if he was dreaming this, and if he would soon wake up to confront the consequences of all that had passed in Berlin.

He chose not to dwell on this, however.

Instead he was now engaged in re-organising a shelf of German poetry that had been left in disarray by a previous client, not far from Bertie's perusal of philosophy.

[what_ho_jeeves]

"What ho, there!" Bertie said, spotting the bookish looking man amongst the books. "Might you be a good chap and point me in the right direction vis a vis volumes of an improving nature? The sorts of books fellows who eat lots of fish and wear large hats to cover their copious heads would read?"

[likeaswift]

Briefly, an image of Roddy Martindale seemed to superimpose itself over the image of this ridiculous-sounding young man and Smiley had to suppress an urge to simply turn tail and flee. But this man's circumlocutions were elaborate to a degree of which Roddy was entirely incapable, and that alone caught Smiley's interest. Pushing through an instinctive feeling of dread, he merely frowned, genuinely confused as to exactly what sort of person this man could possibly be alluding to.

"I beg your pardon?" And then: "Fish?"

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie helpfully replied, "You know, scaly things that swim in the sea...or rivers, I suppose, and lakes upon occasion, or ponds."

[likeaswift]

"Yes, quite," Smiley said, the faintest edge of impatience in his voice. "I simply couldn't quite follow your ... description of your sample reader." Smiley was generally good at figuring out what someone was getting at, even in the most rambling of digressions, but this fellow had left him completely and uncharacteristically at sea, as it were.

Accidentally Running Into Your Character's Room to Hide

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie rushed in and slammed the door behind him. He leaned back against it, breathing hard.

Blink.

Frown.

Wait just a moment. This wasn’t his room. He must have got turned around somewhere.

Re: Accidentally Running Into Your Character's Room to Hide

[folkscallmewander]

As much as he wanted to work on his arts and crafts project in the lobby, Wander soon realized that taking up space with his pile of aluminum foil, tape, glue, tissue paper, beads, string, construction paper, scissors, and a large green hat would be too troublesome for the other guests, so he opted to staying in his room for today. After hearing the news about the neuralflu, he immediately set to buying a roll of foil to make a small tinfoil hat for himself and for any potential guests that would need one. Of course, he couldn't resist the temptation of decorating it, and spent what few emeralds he had left for hat beautification purposes.

...At least he could now give out pretty tinfoil hats instead of those plain grey ones.

He was in the middle of folding paper roses when he heard his door open and slam shut, startling him to tear a yellow slip in half. Even though he unlocked his door as an open invitation for others to meet him, he would have appreciated if they had knocked, but a potential friend is a potential friend even if they needed a lesson in politeness. He stood up from his spot on the floor behind the bed, his head and tinfoil hat (colored green with a thick, rounded five-pointed star attached to it) barely visible to anyone standing at the door.

"Hi! I'll be right there inna moment." He walked around the bed to get a better view of the guest.

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie peered at the...man(?) for a long time, shook his head, and peered some more. He'd only had one drink so far today, otherwise he'd wonder if he were hallucinating.

"I say!"

More peering.

"I say!"

Aunt Agatha would be appalled by his manners, but he couldn't think of a dashed thing to say beyond his "I says."

[folkscallmewander]

It was definitely a member of the human species that were surprisingly common here, and the tallest one he'd seen so far. He would bet that this one could easily stare down a Zbornak even if it was standing on its hind legs.

Not like this fellow could successfully intimidate Sylvia with that shocked expression.

"Sorry for the mess," Wander smiled, indicating at the strewn bits of string covering the floor. "Didn't 'spect anyone to come here."

He spoke in a soft voice with an accent that most humans from Earth considered to originate from the southern region of the United States, though he met a few that pinpointed it to some place Wander never even heard of. The communicators seemed to make interesting translating choices.

"I gotta chair right over here that's big enough for you to sit on, if y'like." He lifted an arm out towards an ornate wooden chair that came standard with the rooms by the dresser. "We can have our introductions once we're both comfy, right?"

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie thought the man was awfully small. And orange. And a dashed peculiar configuration in every way. Still, it would be rude to mention it, so Bertie swallowed his questions, even though he was buzzing with curiosity, and took the offered chair like a proper gentleman.

"How do you do. I'm Bertram Wooster."

[thumbsdown]

[Boone looks up as soon as someone opens his door and slams it behind them. He's in a chair facing the door, his rifle in his hands and aimed at the intruder. Beside him on the floor, Rex has lifted his head and looks poised to get up and attack if Boone tells him to. Both cyberdog and sniper stare for a second, until Boone gets over the initial shock of someone bursting into his room and lowers the rifle again.]

You lost?

[He wonders why he's in such a hurry, but that question can wait. At the very least, from the look on this guy's face he can tell this was an accident.]

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Bertie's eyes go even wider at the sight of the gun. Usually people who have guns end up pointing them at him sooner or later, and firing at him as he desperately flees through the undergrowth in his formal evening dress only to stumble into the arms of an unwanted fiancee.

It's a very specific but common problem for him.

But then the man lowers his gun, and Bertie's terror eases somewhat.]

Indeed I am. I was running for my life and seem to have found myself in the incorrect hallway. Or perhaps the incorrect floor.

I say, could you be an aid to a fellow man in desperate need and allow me to hide here for a spot of time?

[thumbsdown]

[Boone frowns, but holds a hand out to Rex to let him know it's okay.]

I guess.

[As part of security here now, he can't exactly tell the guy it's his own damn problem. He gets to his feet and heads over to Bertie, but it's the door he's focused on. His rifle is still in his hands.]

What're you running from? Did it see you come in here?

[what_ho_jeeves]

Well, it's like this, you see. One of those Cling-thingummy beazels started screaming at me, and when a filly is interested and thinks that you are too, you can't hurt her feelings by stating otherwise, even if she does have peculiar bumps on her forehead. Just as I was trying to think of some way to convince her that I am not the one for her, a mighty fist smote down upon the table. As it turns out, the Cling-filly is already engaged and her fiance had no interest in my explanations. And so I ran, and thus you see me here before you.

Bar

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie was sitting on the piano bench by the resort bar, tinkling out a few notes to a half remembered song with one hand, glass of champagne in the other.

“Something...something...knoooows. Anything goes.”

[andiwillfollow]

Despite popular belief Charon did take a break from patrolling. Rarely. Sometimes. Though they were usually very short breaks in which he'd sit at the bar and have a drink or two, because sometimes even he needed a drink. Especially with this neural flu going around, giving him a headache. Normally he would just avoid people all together with something like this going around, but he had a tin foil hat so he wouldn't have to worry about shared thoughts being a concern.

The music he hears being played from his spot at the bar is actually a familiar one. He heard it on the kid's pipboy all the time, on that Galaxy News Radio station. He also vaguely had the impression he remembered it from far before then, even. Back before the Great War. It was comforting in a way Charon couldn't really pinpoint, and he honestly didn't dwell on it too much. But it's that almost-memory that has him turning towards Bertie at the piano. Hopefully this time he won't scream at the sight of him. His head hurts too much to deal with that.

His tone is brusque -- but then again when isn't it? "But now, God knows. Anything goes."

Look, if he's going to sit there and play music the least he could do is get the lyrics right. And it just so happens to be one of the things Charon's brain chooses to allow him to remember. God knows he heard it enough.

[what_ho_jeeves]

"Is that how it goes? Much obliged, my good...chap." He was pretty sure the person was a chap. The voice was decidedly chappish, and the height and general build and configuration, but, well, at first glance Bertie wouldn't have assumed that the chap was even alive, so he wasn't entirely sure he should trust his assumptions on this one.

He played a few introductory bars to the phrase and then enthusiastically sang, "But now, god knoooows. Anything goes."

And added a few more piano bars, and stopped.

"I don't suppose you know the lyrics to the rest of it as well. I only heard it the once right before I departed on this holiday and now I've had the blasted thing stuck in my head for days yet can't remember it."

[andiwillfollow]

Charon gives barely a nod before going back to his drink. It sounded a lot better now that he actually used the right lyrics. Less like noise and more like music. When Bertie asks him if he knows the rest Charon looks over at him again, making a small sound that might have been half groan and half sigh.

The fact that this song so easily gets stuck in one's head is probably the reason why he remembers it.

"Vaguely."

Which is kind of a lie.