(no subject)

[tragic_mask]

Arriving at the Visitor's Center, Melpomene takes a look around.

"Well, this is it. In all its touristic glory. "

Comments

[tragic_mask]

"All right," she says. "Then we'll have to make a run for it."

[mechanicalswans]

"We're living so dangerously today," he says with a smile, as he pats his pockets for the room key. "I wonder which of us is the bad influence."

[tragic_mask]

Her eyes widen, and she moves to clasp her hands together.

"I blame you for everything. Before you came along, I was innocent as a newborn babe."

[mechanicalswans]

"Never trust a Norseman," he chuckles. "So insidious, with our pillaging and our lutefisk. We corrupt or we destroy. Lucky for you, you're a better target for corruption."

[tragic_mask]

"Thanks," she murmurs. "I appreciate that, I think."

[mechanicalswans]

"Mmmm. I'm not really the active-corruption kind. It happens as a side effect sometimes, but I don't set out to do it."

A pause.

"...well, usually."

[tragic_mask]

"Really," she says, disbelieving, as they cross the parking lot.

[mechanicalswans]

"I'm more interested in my own entertainment than in harming others, usually," he says. "It's only natural."

[tragic_mask]

"That's reassuring."

And then, glancing sideways at him: "I can juggle, you know."

[mechanicalswans]

"Can you, now?" he asks, faintly surprised. "I should like to see that, sometime."

[tragic_mask]

"Oh, yes. And not just oranges and scarves, either. I will show you sometime, if you want."

She grins. "It's one of my lesser known skills."

[mechanicalswans]

"Don't ever give away all your lesser-known skills," he murmurs. "Keep a bit of mystery. But I do want to see you juggle, sometime. If we're ever penniless somewhere and need to perform on the street for money, I think you may have your talent..."

[tragic_mask]

"Trust me, there's plenty of mystery left."

She makes a face. "I hope never to be penniless, at least to the point that juggling is my only hope."

[mechanicalswans]

"But it's good to know you have something to fall back on," he says. "Me, I haven't got many performance abilities."

[tragic_mask]

"Well, you can tango all right," she says with a smile.

[mechanicalswans]

"Mmmm."

He grins. "Not by myself, though. It needs just the right partner for that."

[tragic_mask]

"That's certainly true," she says. "Takes two to tango, right?"

[mechanicalswans]

"Generally," he agrees. "But I do know other kinds of dances."

[tragic_mask]

"See, I just knew you had the performer's spirit in you."

[mechanicalswans]

"And if you get me drunk enough," he says in a quieter, conspiratorial tone, "sometimes I sing."

[tragic_mask]

"So I hear," she says wryly.

[mechanicalswans]

"You never know. There could be karaoke in your future."

A pause.

"I feel like I shouldn't admit to knowing pop songs."

[tragic_mask]

"No, you shouldn't. Completely destroys the tough-guy image."

[mechanicalswans]

"There really aren't any tough-guy pop songs," he muses. "Not anymore. And possibly never."

[tragic_mask]

"Can't imagine what that would sound like," she says, with a shudder. "Did you leave anything in the room, or should we go straight for the car?"