[ota] pride is not a substitute for knowing how to swim

[messire_messer]

Spades on the third floor of the east wing apartments would have woken to a passing pounding on each of their doors early in the morning. Raphael's already long gone before they've poked their heads through the doors to answer, tapping at any wooden furniture and practically singing as he goes.

Well. Not really singing. Maybe a bit of light-footedness, though.

Because it's the Day. The Day of his bridge being completed at last. The previous day had seen sunset with only a few parts left to be nailed into place. Raphael fully intends to impart it with all the ceremony that it deserves.

It's an impromptu party atmosphere. He hadn't intended there to be a much bigger celebration than himself and the people he'd roped into working on the bridge with him, but someone's brought food and there's beer from somewhere. Probably Ben. He'll have to remember to thank him later.

For now there's a jaunty pounding into place of nails and a small balancing act on the rails to proudly declare the bridge to the ruins "OPEN!"

Later he'll be soaked and miserable and have to plan fixing the bridge up from its sudden breaking and dropping him into the ocean. But after all, hubris affects even the worst of men.

[ooc: Minnie will be the one actually saving him, but everyone else can tag before or after.]

Comments

After?

[wouldbetrump]

"You're looking a bit wet, my friend." Clive noted as he came to investigate the commotion going on around him. Turning this way and that he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at, but well...at least it was going to improve...right?

"Can I get you a towel at least?"

[messire_messer]

Rap sneezed, looking more than the appropriate share of miserable and soaked and a little ill. The bridge was, on the end closer to the ruins, broken; a section of rail and part of the edge was missing. It was something that he preferred not to look upon, so he turned his attention to his King.

"It would be much appreciated, sir."

[wouldbetrump]

Clive found Rap a towel and draped it over the man's shoulders as he looked out over the bridge. Well, he supposed that would have to be fixed, really, but he wasn't too sure if Rap was really the one needing to fix it.

"...Project going well?" He asked, despite the evidence to the contrary.

[messire_messer]

"It could be going better," he admitted, sneezing again and pulling the towel tight round his shoulders like a blanket. "I assure you that wasn't meant to happen."

[wouldbetrump]

"Oh, I don't know. Looks like a bit of fun as it is." He said, smirking a little as he slapped Rap on the shoulder lightly. "Accidents happen, my friend. I am just glad you are well and safe."

[messire_messer]

He coughed a bit at the slap, hunching down further as he tried to wring himself dry. "As am I. Is anyone else...?"

It was unclear whether he was asking if anyone else was glad, or if anyone else was safe.

[wouldbetrump]

"Everyone else seems to be fine, yes." He said, smirking down at the other Spade.

"How long do you think it will take to fix it?"

[messire_messer]

"A week," he said, automatically, then grimaced, finally turning his head to look at his bridge. Mostly intact, but given how quickly it had been ruined, perhaps he needed to look it over again. "...perhaps three. To reinspect it."

[rarelight]

"It's, um... quite impressive." She tilts her head while she looks at the spectacle in front of her, eyes narrowing just slightly. "... How long did it take you?" Look - polite conversation.

[messire_messer]

"Mid-March," he says, puffing up his chest. "When you think, there are ones outside that get built over smaller distances for more time, it's more than impressive."

[rarelight]

"... you know, that's actually quite-- quite amazing. I'm in awe." She might even be smiling a little.

[messire_messer]

Aha! Clearly he has broken through the shell of dislike at last. What a thrilling day.

"As well you should be. Have you been on it yet?" There are already people passing back and forth. Not in huge crowds, not many, just one or two at a time.

[rarelight]

"... no." She looks down at her feet, over her shoulder, then back at him. "Um, can I?"

[messire_messer]

"It would be unfair of me to charge a toll, and no doubt one Face Card or another would decide against me anyway." He proffers his arm.

[rarelight]

She hesitates one moment, then takes his arm, gingerly stepping onto the bridge. "... it seems quite stable."

She doesn't mean to seem surprised.

[messire_messer]

"Why shouldn't it be?" he asks, supremely confident. "Look, it can take even a little bouncing." And indeed he bounces in places- though not so much that he lets go of her arm. So far all seems well.

[rarelight]

"I'll... leave that to your able legs. Just standing is fine for me," she says with a little laugh.

Before?

[intotherough]

Ben is, indeed, responsible for the beer, which he's drinking as he watches the whole...thing. He's not much of an engineer - or, let's be honest, an engineer at all - but the whole thing looks a little precarious.

"D'you think you ought to cartwheel across it?"

[messire_messer]

He's stopped in the middle of one, standing on his hands, when he hears Ben's question. "Ought it make any difference to the distribution of my weight?"

[intotherough]

He has no earthly clue, but he just maintains this same sober expression. "Might be an important consideration. You know, before you start hauling supplies across it."

[messire_messer]

It might be a little more difficult to interpret from upside down, but this is absolutely a scowl he's making. Mild, but still a scowl. "Then it's not so much a matter of cartwheeling, is it."

[intotherough]

Ben, for his part, just continues to pokerface over the top of his long-necked beer bottle. "Well, perhaps not," he agrees. "I'm not an expert on what would test sound engineering, you understand."

[messire_messer]

Huff and puff and back on his feet to dust off his hands on his pants. "So clearly our only option is to actually test it. You've not been on it yet?"

Hint hint.

[intotherough]

"I haven't." And he's not going to, with as rickety as it's looking. "But with all these people here planning a nice picnic across the way, you hardly need me, Raphael."

[messire_messer]

He's not going to pout. Very studiously and certainly and because he's about 80% certain it won't be effective, give or take a handful of percents, he won't pout. "Not going to go take a closer look at the fruits of your labour? Fine."