The Salle, Monday Morning

[bitchprince]

Unlike his tired mun Arthur was fresh and early back in the salle. Now that the weather had died down, he had a lot of exercise to catch up on. And he was devoted to getting that done right.

... Pity those poor training dummies.

Pity them greatly.

[[ open, but SP for the next hour as I head on home ]]

Comments

[thatsamilkshake]

< Merlin's birthday. Crap. >

Followed almost immediately as you do by:

< Hi. Good Morning. >

[bitchprince]

Merlin's birthday?

Arthur was trying to be a Good... whatever they were. He couldn't be held accountable for having trouble with dates.

[thatsamilkshake]

< Was Sunday. > She actually had stopped by Merlin's room for 'bring Katchoo by this weekend' purposes, but wasn't exactly surprised when he wasn't there.

[bitchprince]

He was busy Sunday.

Cryptic text was... decidedly cryptic.

Right. Let me think.

[thatsamilkshake]

< I figured. >

'My girlfriend that I'm still working up the gonads to actually call that is still a rabbit and I'm pretty sure I know exactly how YOU were keeping warm, FML' text was... decidedly understated but still held an edge of crank.

< Couldn't have had much of a party then anyway. This week instead? >

[bitchprince]

Arthur was unable to pick up an 'edge' of any emotion, so he shrugged that first one off. If you insist, he wrote back, idly (while already planning out what in god's name to get the boy), Thursday. No question mark, no.

[thatsamilkshake]

< Thursday's good. > Francine was well aware he wasn't asking, but it didn't hurt to pretend he had. < I'll cook. >

[bitchprince]

Excellent. Have Taste of Thai send over some of that mango rice as well. What else? We'll need a venue.

Be glad he was sort-of-asking, Francine. This had the potential to go very much overkill.

[thatsamilkshake]

...Mango rice? No, she wasn't asking. She'd just put it on the table next to the birthday cake and smile and nod.

< Party room on the 6th floor? Or there's Caritas. >

One meant zombies, the other meant ballpit. Win some, lose some.

[bitchprince]

Party room.

Decision made.

Is there some kind of protocol for this?

Back home, there were three kinds of birthday parties. The kind that involved his father and long, long journeys into the forest in order to get him something that might actually make him smile for point two seconds. The kind that involved Morgana getting her every whim catered to and being generally insufferable. And the kind where his father glowered all day unless there was some kind of ceremony to attach to it.

None of these applied.

[thatsamilkshake]

< Let people know there's a party, cake, presents, food. Yell surprise if it's a surprise party. That comes before the cake.>

[bitchprince]

Well, we'll leave that one off. Don't want him to get startled and leap into the cake.

What? It was Merlin.

[thatsamilkshake]

< You have a point. > What? It was Merlin.

[bitchprince]

No surprises. You'll cater the rest?

Arthur could do the part that involved yelling at people. He was good at that.

[thatsamilkshake]

How good was he at sending mass e-mails? The earth trembled at that idea, it really did.

< Sure. Got something I've been meaning to try cooking for you guys for a while, even. >

Arthur should perhaps tremble too. He wouldn't, but he might should.