Just A Little Face Paint
Oct. 31st, 2011 05:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misseDisclaimer: Don’t own or claim rights to Buffy, or the Discworld series
The doorbell did not chime, but when Ethan turned around, he was face to face with someone he knew, but wished he didn’t. “Er… Patrician, it is so nice to meet you,” he tried.
Lord Vetinari raised an eyebrow.
Ethan felt his stomach pack its bags and make a hurried exit, quickly followed by his wits. “So, um, what brings you here this fine evening?” he wondered nervously.
Lord Vetinari’s eyebrow inched a little higher.
“It’s just a little magic,” Ethan excused. “Nothing much, just a little prank. A little harmless fun, ha ha,” he added with a sickly smile.
Lord Vetinari’s eyebrow appeared to be attempting to migrate to his scalp, and Ethan swallowed.
“Just a little chaos to liven up the evening,” Ethan went on, “what with it being Halloween, and all, not that you have Halloween, but, er, like a harvest festival; all pranks and jollity.”
Lord Vetinari’s eyebrow returned to its assigned position, and he gave a small, sweet smile. Ethan’s bowels began considering a sunnier clime. “One wonders, perhaps, if pranksters – such as yourself, for example – are not somewhat related to, say, mimes?”
Ethan’s knees decided it was time to go on strike for better pay and conditions (say, in a body not attracting the Patrician’s attention) and he wobbled as swiftly as someone in his position was capable to the back room, and smashed the bust of Janus.
He did not hear the sound of a young man’s body hitting the ground.
When Giles made it to the shop some ten minutes later, he found his former friend huddled against a cupboard, mumbling, “It was only a little face paint. All I sold him was a little face paint. It’s not fair; I didn’t mean him to turn up.”
The doorbell did not chime, but when Ethan turned around, he was face to face with someone he knew, but wished he didn’t. “Er… Patrician, it is so nice to meet you,” he tried.
Lord Vetinari raised an eyebrow.
Ethan felt his stomach pack its bags and make a hurried exit, quickly followed by his wits. “So, um, what brings you here this fine evening?” he wondered nervously.
Lord Vetinari’s eyebrow inched a little higher.
“It’s just a little magic,” Ethan excused. “Nothing much, just a little prank. A little harmless fun, ha ha,” he added with a sickly smile.
Lord Vetinari’s eyebrow appeared to be attempting to migrate to his scalp, and Ethan swallowed.
“Just a little chaos to liven up the evening,” Ethan went on, “what with it being Halloween, and all, not that you have Halloween, but, er, like a harvest festival; all pranks and jollity.”
Lord Vetinari’s eyebrow returned to its assigned position, and he gave a small, sweet smile. Ethan’s bowels began considering a sunnier clime. “One wonders, perhaps, if pranksters – such as yourself, for example – are not somewhat related to, say, mimes?”
Ethan’s knees decided it was time to go on strike for better pay and conditions (say, in a body not attracting the Patrician’s attention) and he wobbled as swiftly as someone in his position was capable to the back room, and smashed the bust of Janus.
He did not hear the sound of a young man’s body hitting the ground.
When Giles made it to the shop some ten minutes later, he found his former friend huddled against a cupboard, mumbling, “It was only a little face paint. All I sold him was a little face paint. It’s not fair; I didn’t mean him to turn up.”