[ota] watch out for the splatter

[messire_messer]

TGIF, isn't that what they say? Raphael has different reasons to be thankful for Friday than others. Friday is the day he gets to kick gently shoo Clive out of his office early so it can be emptied of the necessaries and painted over the weekend. He's got a lovely sunflower orange planned. Bright and unominous, just what the King ordered.

So if you're here looking for the King of Spades, Rap will apologise. Or not.

Comments

[a_sudden_change]

Diane is just passing by with a basket of necessities going...somewhere. But she'll pause in the doorway, look in curiously at Rap.

"Does the King know you're playing While you Were Out in his office?"

She'll lean on the door frame and grin slightly, "not that I'm telling you not to, mind."

[messire_messer]

He turns and waves at her with his paintbrush, splattering only a few drops on the wall. "Hullo! Don't be silly, of course he knows I'm here. How do you think I got him out?"

Not that he really knows what she's referencing. He's good at guessing games.

[a_sudden_change]

It's okay, she doesn't expect most of the people on the Deck to get her references to thinks that exist mainly Outside. Unless they got cable tv here.

"Could be a guerrilla operation. But I think you're supposed to do those under the cover of night or something."

[messire_messer]

That, he'll wave his free hand dismissively for. "Night's only for when I've sculptures to transport. For guerilla paintings I get up particularly early and leg it when it's full light."

[a_sudden_change]

"Guess you might need the light to actually make a good painting, huh?"

And she'll wave at the office, "just doing the walls, then?"

[messire_messer]

"If I'm allowed the ceiling I'd have to paint over my very own Sistine Chapel, and then what would I become? A tortured man of my own self-persecution." Hand to heart. Funnily enough, there's already a handprint there to put his hand over.

[a_sudden_change]

"Was more thinking about the desk, really."

She probably shouldn't encourage him.

"Or the floor?"

/just gives you all the tags

[morallydefunct]

Victor was looking for the King actually, and rather surprised (and displeased) to find the man's office in a state of remodel it seemed. For one thing, the King was no where to be found. For another there were a lot of pieces of furniture just sitting in the hallway at the moment.

It was not something a head of Security liked to see.

"What are you doing?"

/hoards

[messire_messer]

Hello, Mr Security Man. Raphael will favour him with a manichappy grin over his shoulder as he continues painting small designs in the same sunflower orange that the bottom half of the wall is solidly painted in. No, he's not stopping just for conversation. "Painting the King's office, as requested."

[morallydefunct]

"Painting the King's office," Victor's eye twitched a little, as he canted his head to the side. "I see. And the reason the contents of the King's office is in the hall...."

Obviously because of the painting. But let him stress, one more time- King's Office. And the King's Things.

Only a poor, unimaginative man would not at advantage of this.

[messire_messer]

Raphael is quite unfortunately that poor unimaginative man, then. He won't even pause in his painting, just turn his head at uncomfortable angles over his shoulder to look at Victor. "I didn't think he'd appreciate the furniture being splotchy."

[morallydefunct]

"And the King's private files...? Have you assigned anyone to look after them?" Surely painting was not so important that this was over looked. Surely.

[messire_messer]

Oh. Ah. Um.

"Is it not all locked away? Would take some dedication to remove those." There's the crack of guilt, right there.

[headfollowheart]

Michael was usually the one who delivered the final budgets to the King, but he was in Town - and it was Friday and Zoe was looking forward to a nice quiet evening in which she had a glass of wine - so she'd opted to just drop it off herself before going down the hall to ask Victor if he wanted her to cook tonight.

There wasn't much to be said when she stepped inside, though. Not immediately; eventually she came up with something.

"Wow, that's...cheerful, isn't it?"

[messire_messer]

He turns round at her voice, flapping at her with his empty hand. "Out! Shoo! D'you want those with a nice dotting of orange. Because I can oblige."

[headfollowheart]

She starts to step back, then stops. Raises an eyebrow. "Nothing's stopping me from putting them in the hall and coming back to bother you, you know." She's just saying. It's a possibility.

[messire_messer]

"So go ahead." Flap flap. "As long as it's your shoes you ruin, not your papers."

Does she realise he has a spare paintbrush? Does she realise he will be handing it to her?

[headfollowheart]

...Shoes. Her eyes drop to them, pristine, polished bright red ass-kicking heels, and she gingerly steps back.

"Does Clive know what color you picked?"

She's just going to stay out of the way of the flying paint.

[messire_messer]

"I'm quite certain he got a good enough look before he went for his afternoon constitutional." Or was hustled out at speed. Whatever.

Is she not going to help? Oh well. Be jawed at from the door, then.

[dum_spiro_servio]

No.

No, no, no. What was that Hideous Colour? And what was it doing in the King's room?

More importantly, what was he doing in the King's room?

"Why. Are you here."

[messire_messer]

Oh, hello, uncle head cook. How wonderful to see you here. He gets to wave his paintbrush nice and menacingly. "Was asked to. By His Majesty."

[dum_spiro_servio]

Yes. If you Rub It In with Words and with a Paintbrush long enough, Iollan's expression was as likely to change as time flowing backwards to undo this wrong that was Raphael Scallion.

"And did His Majesty ask for his room to be defiled with some Barbaric shade of Neon Fluorescent Orange?"

[messire_messer]

Oh, how his face lit up. How his delight shone out of his eyes. "He specified bright. Something to let light into the room. Less ominous." Pose struck.

"I have chosen perfectly."

[dum_spiro_servio]

"And what is wrong with White?" White was bright, and would let light into the room, and was less ominous. Did Their King specify neon fluorescent orange? No. No He Did Not.

"Put that brush down lest you Hurt Yourself with it."

[messire_messer]

"If he wanted White then he wouldn't have such a difficult time choosing. That is why he delegated the task to me." Brush Not Put Down. How can he suggest such a thing.