Second Floor Common Room, Saturday Afternoon

[chirpchirpchirp]

Two girls had wandered into the attic this morning, one after the other.

It was also two girls who came storming back out again, bickering and arguing their way down several flights of stairs in loud, angry Scottish accents. Did they even actually know what it was they were arguing about? It was entirely possible they didn't! Did that matter? Not at all.

Also, they thought they were ducks.

"-- And that time you tried to use my own nephew against me! Do you figure that was my fault too?"

They could go on like this for a while, folks.

[OOC: Open!]

Comments

[chirpchirpchirp]

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it'll be a thrill for you," Scrooge sighed. Why? Why were they always masterminds? "Just so long as you're not in league with Glomgold over there," he jerked a thumb toward Mae, "that might even work out well for you."

Said, of course, in a tone that suggested that Scrooge believed it would not.

[crack_that_whip]

"Glombold. Her--pardon--his name is Glomgold?" Trevor, don't laugh. Not everyone could have classy French names.

[chirpchirpchirp]

"Flintheart Glomgold," Scrooge replied. And the only thing that made it better was that Glomgold had chosen it himself. "My rival, and the," a beat, "second richest duck in the world."

Second only to yours truly, naturally.

[crack_that_whip]

"Which would make you the richest duck in the world?" He'd have to tell everyone that he'd met the richest duck in the world one day.

One day.

[chirpchirpchirp]

"But of course! Scrooge McDuck, at your service." He was even offering you a handshake. With the hand that hadn't been lightly mangled by a gremlin today.

Because that was just how successful businessmen rolled.

[crack_that_whip]

Yeah, consider Trevor mildly concerned about that other hand. Did he need to go steal some sheets to make bandages or something?

Someone please tell him that band-aids existed.

"Trevor Belmont. Good to meet you... McDuck."

He was trying his very best not to laugh at the name.

[chirpchirpchirp]

Go on and laugh, Trevor. Scrooge would just chalk it up to nerves over a brush with fame or something, anyway.

"And a pleasure meeting you, as well." He paused a moment. "At least until you settle into your new role as mastermind, I suppose."

He wasn't terribly concerned.

[crack_that_whip]

"Until then," he agreed. "Do I have other options besides mastermind and henchman?"

[chirpchirpchirp]

"Well, that's completely up to you," Scrooge replied, not unreasonably. Because out of the two crazy people here today, Scrooge was arguably at least the more level-headed one. "What would you like to be?"

Brace yourself for a talk about hard word and dedication, whatever it was.

[crack_that_whip]

"Honestly, I just wanted to get a meal," he said, pointing over at the fridge. "I don't really care about you and Gloomdark."

Other than to make sure no one got hurt, but that wasn't to be spoken aloud.

[chirpchirpchirp]

Well, it wasn't like Scrooge was going to correct him...

"Well." Scrooge glanced toward the fridge. "I see. Ah, yes. Well. Don't let me stop you, then."

But he'd be keeping an eye on you, Mastermind. If you put dynamite in the microwave or something, he'd have to intervene.

[crack_that_whip]

Literally the last thing he had in mind. Mostly because the microwave was still kinda magical to him.

Also, then he couldn't watch this shit show unfold with a full belly.

Trevor saluted her on her way over to find literally anything edible. He'd eaten dried goat before. He wasn't picky.