[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

/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.

[morallydefunct]

"Not as much as one might think." Victor replied, given that he was rather apt of picking locks himself. He was not so naive, however, to think he was alone in this particular skill.

"Do you know where I might find his Lordship?"

[messire_messer]

Oh. Well. Shit. He'll um. He'll something.

"Gone to speak wi' Her Majesty, perhaps. Or Miss Sinclair."

[morallydefunct]

"Get someone on the files, Mr. Scallion. Least I find a way to beat the common sense into your head." He promised, turning on heel to leave before pausing just long enough to eye the color on the wall.

Heh. Far too bright.

[messire_messer]

Subsequent passersby will discover a hapless Two sitting in the corridor, occasionally yelling in return to Rap's check-ins that he's still there. Guarding. Counts.