derping with the boggins. no plans, just tentatively voice testing.

[experting]

No contract? Ah, well, I cannot say I'm an expert on how these... agreements— [ Yes, that word will do, ha. ]—are meant to work, but without a contract, there is no place to sign. And if I cannot sign, well, I suppose I have not agreed to this agreement. [ Ha! ]

Yes. So. [ Straightening his already straightened jacket. ]

If you would not mind, I think I will be... leaving. [ Ahem, yes; keep it up, don't lose that backbone now. ] … Which I will be doing in a moment. That is to say, actually... ah, right now? [ No no no, that hadn't been a question! He is leaving this instant! Or... oh, wait. ] … Soon. Yes, that sounds better. [ Because... how is he supposed to leave this place?

So not fidgeting. Much. ]


… This way... or is it that? [ Pointing until his arms cross one another and no. He's talking to himself; not asking for help, thank you very much, hmph. ] … And there are no signs. Hm. Typical.

Comments

[kinginexile]

Master Baggins, while there is no agreement or contract with your scribe that means little to them. They will do as they please regardless of any argument you might put up otherwise.

[This is one speaking from experience. He hates it, but there is little he can do to change what his mun wants to do. Still, he will voice his opinion either way.]

[experting]

[ And if Thorin, King of stern talking tos and less than agreeable words, hasn't been able to, forcibly, sway one's mind, then there is little hope for a little someone like Bilbo. Fantastic. Let him just absorb this, slowly, unenthusiastically, and try hard not to be entirely useless in his— ]

There must be a way to... [ He pauses suddenly and glances over one shoulder, the next, and hm; how does this work exactly? Can muns hear them? All the time? Pressing his lips together, exaggeratedly, he then huddles more into himself, hiding his hands from potentially prying eyes. From there, he makes a motion with his hands in some vague, entirely too jumbled to be clear movement that is meant to symbolize, well, escaping. And there. He glances up from his hands and... Thorin's turn? Bilbo has the feet for sneaking and Thorin has, well, attributes for everything else, so while they've never made the best of teams, they can figure something out and make a break for it, right? ]

[kinginexile]

[Sadly for Bilbo, and Thorin of course, the more fuss one puts up the more wicked the muns become. Or so it seems. Make a fuss about possibly going to a game with dragons in it, get sent to a game with dragons in it. Tread carefully, hobbit.

And the antics of the halfling are comical and could almost get a chuckle from the dwarf if Bilbo wasn't so obviously serious. To his question, he will shake his head, arms crossed over his chest.]

I do not think even a hobbit could sneak from these scribes. They are ever watching... and meddling.

[The last part is said with some aggravation.]

[experting]

[ Watching? He snaps his hands back to his sides and whips his head this way and that. Slowly, he catches himself though and he clears his throat, glancing down and finally, back to Thorin. Right. Time for subtlety... not that Bilbo is exceptionally skilled at that. In the end, he settles on lowering his voice into a hush, foolishly believing that will keep their conversation private. ]

What is it they want? Do they wish to delay... [ And still, he doesn't dare mention their quest or its specifics, his hobbity simplicities leaving him to not quite understand that muns, scribes, whatever they may be called, already know everything. Instead, he flattens his lips and stares, leaving it to Thorin to fill in the blanks himself. ]

[kinginexile]

[While Bilbo takes precautions to try and keep anything from the muns, Thorin just crosses his arms over his chest and continues on as usual. Deep voice not hushed in the slightest.]

They wish to cause much unneeded mischief and strife with little care to our current quest. The more grief we suffer the better.

[experting]

[ Subtlety, Thorin. Subtlety. Reflex has him almost shushing him. His pointer makes it halfway to his mouth, his lips pursed but with the inhale, he catches himself, stilling quite comically. There's a pause and then his mouth seals shut and bunches tight as he exhales; fine, be loud, Thorin. Bilbo won't worry about nosy muns either then.

… Except he does. ]

Better? No. Worse. Yes, yes that sounds... better. [ Yes? Nods. ] That's what it should be. They seem to be... confused. Maybe someone should... [ Extended pause for no real reason other than Bilbo needing to gesture in the time lapse. ] … explain to, to these scribes, is it? Yes, explain to them that they are in fact... confused.

[kinginexile]

[Subtle and Thorin were on two completely different ends of the spectrum, Bilbo. Brows will just raise slightly as the hobbit looks ready to shush him, but then decides not to. Good, lad. Good choice.]

Then by all means, you seem suited for talk, Master Baggins. They have shown little interest in listening to myself, no matter how much I speak on it. I would bid you luck in your endeavor if you choose to do so.

No easy task, not even for a hobbit.

[As he did seem to be very good with his words... sometimes.]