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2046-02-18 Prank War: The Conspiracy

From X-Factor

2046-02-18 Prank War: The Conspiracy
Date Posted 2016/02/18
Location Rohan and Sumit's Apartment - Avenue B Apartments
Participants Moody, Rohan
Summary Moody and Rohan plot. Well. Mostly Moody plots at Rohan.

There is also totally gratitious kittenage.

 
Moosongbird.jpg Rorohan.jpg
This apartment sits in a corner and that is perhaps why it seems a touch larger than the average Mutant Town apartment of its ilk. Some of that extra space appears to have gone to making a kitchen that is larger than the norm for the area and which might, indeed, be almost functional to cook in. It's possible, also, that some of the feeling of (slightly) greater airiness comes from the fact the place is very bare, as if it is occupied by people who do not particularly care about decor, or, for that matter, furniture.

Otherwise than the size, it is an unremarkable apartment. The walls are painted a dreary shade of grey-yellow, there are two bedrooms of roughly equal size, and a narrow bathroom. A L-shaped common area around the kitchen serves as living room/dining room. The distinction between the two would probably be clearer if the occupants believed in furniture.

At certain times of day, light spills through the windows and illuminates the whole apartment. It just makes it all the more obvious how shabby and bare it is.


It is a winter night. The weather is cold and fair.


There's a polite and quiet knock at the door to Rohan's apartment. Surely it can't be Moody, because she either just appears (if she's expected) or comms first and asks to come down. But indeed that is who it is, standing just outside in the hallway, dressed in a couple of dark sweaters overlaid over a pink t-shirt. "Rohan? Are you home?"

"No," Rohan calls through the door. "Rohan has moved to Timbuktu, and subleased the flat to a random stranger."

"Ah, well, I suppose I can just pop in and take the curry that Sumit keeps trying to get me to eat, then, since I certainly wouldn't care about a random stranger's privacy." Moody answers cheerily.

"The cat ate it," suggests Rohan-behind-the-door.

"She should probably go to the vet, then, since I'm fairly sure curry isn't kitten-safe." Moody chirps. "Want me to take her, random stranger?"

"Depends on the curry," insists Rohan, and then sighs. "Oh, all right. Come in."

BLIP Moody appears just inside the doorway, a pace or so to the side in order to avoid Rohan. "So I don't know if you heard, but Sumit threw down and challenged me to a prank war. Also, they apparently fought Revelation and that's terrifying. How've you been?"

The interior of the apartment is almost cosily domestic at the moment. The TV is on, if turned down, playing some horrific low budget sci fi film Rohan apparently doesn't feel compelled to watch. To the immense green couch has been added (almost certainly recently) a battered but comfortable arm chair, a rickety dining table with a pair of mismatched chairs. A half finished clay sculpture sits on said table, covered with a sheet of plastic wrap to keep it from drying out, and Rohan, dressed stylishly in sweatpants and a hoodie, is seated cross-legged on the floor, polishing a pair of high leather boots. Holly sits curled against his thight. As Moody blips in, she uncurls and mews defiantly. This is her apartment. HERS. "Oh," says Rohan lazily in reply. "I was thinking of painting the apartment and renting out his room. Do you think he'd notice?"

"Hello, Holly," Moody purrs and drops down to sit on the floor, holding out her hand in offering to the apartment's queen. "He might. He's pretty clever, which I'm finding a bit disconcerting. Here I was just after a pretty...face. I was thinking of replacing all of his tea with decaf, but that seems a bit cruel to do without checking with you first -- just in case you share. Wouldn't want to harm any innocent bystanders. Also, since I teleport naked into his room sometimes, I'd be grateful for a heads up if you do rent it out."

Holly sniffs at Moody's hand with a gravity unbecoming her years (or months). She knows she is the queen. She accepts tribute. Rohan sighs, and sets aside the boot he was polishing. "I don't think I needed to know that," he tells Moody. "I think I'll confuse him enough with actual furniture. Had a spot of luck in cards; raided various thrift stores. You can make money go very far if you try." He raises an eyebrow. "The tea's fine--just don't touch mine. You could swap the labels on all his spices?"

"Clever, but he can see and smell, so I don't know how much damage it'd actually do -- the old swapping sugar for salt trick might be a decent place to start." Moody strokes Holly gently before settling back to rest her palms on the floor, leaning. "Like you wouldn't naked booty call if /you/ could teleport. Why walk of shame if you don't have to, hmm? We could paint and decorate it with a bunch of doilies and dainty crockery, and I could get Orianne to mock up a half dozen more cats to roam around when he walks in." She grins wickedly.

"Oh, he'd figure it out eventually," replies Rohan, "but, depending on what he's making, it might take him several minutes to sort it out." He raises his eyebrows. "I considered bringing in some more cats, but that might just be cruel. Also, no doilies. I have to live here still, remember?"

"I could clear them out again after," Moody offers with a hopeful expression. "I'm thinking total cat lady conversion -- just temporarily, of course."

Rohan just gives Moody A Look. It is fully deserving of its capitals.

Moody sighs and rolls her shoulders back, "Oh, all right. I'll come up with some--" She disappears, popping out of existence right in the middle of a word. There's no warning, no tensing or indication that she knew it was happening. Just, poof. Gone.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.

Moody returns. Only this isn't Moody 2046 -- well, it doesn't seem likely. This Moody is wearing a loose sundress, graying-white and dripping wet, and is gauntly emaciated. Painfully thin, that is, except for the fact that she's also visibly pregnant. Her hair is cropped very short, her eyes enormous in her face. She staggers for a moment -- her arrival was an inch or two above the floor, and she's not wearing shoes -- and then almost as quickly as she arrived, this one is gone again. An apparition, staying only two, maybe three seconds total.

POOF. Moody reappears, wearing the same clothes she was when she arrived and looking mostly irritated. There's a fresh dusting of snow across her hair that melts rapidly once she returns. "Ugh. Sorry."

Rohan's eyes widen. He stares at the apparition, or the place it was, that innocent place in his apartment. He reaches out and places a hand over Holly's back, as if to protect the kitten from--something? What? The uncertainty that lurks in time and space?

Moody looks around behind her, then uses her sweater sleeve to wipe off the worst of the snow dampness. "What? Am I dripping on the floor?" She looks down to make sure she isn't shedding a puddle.

Rohan picks up Holly and sets her in his lap. The kitten digs his claws into his pants, enough to make him wince, annoyed at the relocation. "One of your future selves dropped in," he says levelly. "Just quick-like."

Moody exhales sharply through her nose and rolls her eyes, "Ugh. Then I'm /really/ sorry. She's always insufferable. And I'm pretty sure at least one version is totally a hooker. So you wouldn't mind if I swap the sugar for the salt?"

"Go ahead," says Rohan, stroking the offended kitten to calm her. "I have my own, after all, and, anyway, I'll know."

"Sweet -- or not, depending," Moody grins impishly. "I know it's kind of, whatever, basic? But I don't want to go too elaborate right from the start. One needs to leave room to escalate, I always say." She pats her pockets to check for something and then asks solicitously, "I'm going down to the bodega for a soda. Want anything?"

"Gummy bears," says Rohan, with a flash of a faint grin. It's only a little shaky. "But only the good ones, not the cheap sugary ones."

Moody puts two fingers to her temple in a terrible salute, "Aye aye, sir. Green-eared Haribo coming right up." She grins and poofs again, this time intentionally, vanishing down to the street below on an errand of sweets acquisition.

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