ethan that is not what i meant.

[contrarian]

Round and round and round she goes, where she stops-- nobody knows.

And here I am reduced to the merest scraps of your attention; Rupert to the aether, my best girls scattered. My, my, my, not even a place to hang my hat, and now you want me dancing for your amusement. It's been years since I've been able to carry off a thong, dear. Sad.

Still. When in Rome.

Comments

[technojanna]

Thanks for the imagery. Don't you have some possessions to cause?

[contrarian]

Oh, love. You've got the wrong bloke.

[ ... this always goes so well. (spoiler: no it doesn't.) ]

[technojanna]

[sceptical look is sceptical] You look pretty familiar to me.

[contrarian]

That's the dirty of trick of it, isn't it.

[technojanna]

There's definitely something tricky going on here.

[contrarian]

The trick is-- [ leaning in, slightly, conspiratorial almost, bleakly self-skewering ] --that there isn't any trick at all. They set it up so you give yourself the mindfuck, this time.

Clever, don't you think? I've never cared for a joke to which I am the punchline, mind you, but a man must respect skill.

[at_stake]

Mental images I really didn't need. This is one of them.

[contrarian]

I know, I know.

[ ... mildly entertained; fond? alternate universes: shit happens. ]

Mind you, Rupert never pulled that look off--

[at_stake]

[And she has no idea. Sob.]

Oh God! Stop it, stop it! Why do I even talk to you?

[contrarian]

--this again.

[at_stake]

... what again?

[contrarian]

'Mistaken identity' just doesn't quite cover it, my dear.

[aworldenchanted]

At least it's usually a little q-quiet. On the sidelines.

[She's a little cautious - all Ethans are not her Ethan - but it's still good to see him.]

[contrarian]

[ this one is your Ethan, Tara, it is okay. ]

Let's have something filthily alcoholic with a jaunty little umbrella, shall we?

[aworldenchanted]

[She smiles.]

That'd be nice. And no hamsters with bad sense of humor this time.

[contrarian]

I can always do without vermin in my happy hour.

[aworldenchanted]

Can't everyone?

How are you? Besides ignored.

[contrarian]

I'd say I can't complain, but you'd see through me in a heartbeat.

[ Ethan can always complain, regardless of whether or not there is actually anything complaining about. ]

[watchher]

[ And here, predictably, is Giles, resisting the urge to massage his temples. He does not comment on the bit about the thong; he would very much like to be cringing, but it threatens his well-practiced irritation with a tiny flicker of amusement, decades old and not easily stamped out.

That is not to say he is low on disdain. ]

... all right, I will bite. I do not suppose you would care to explain any of that?

[contrarian]

[ well, he could-- ]

My, don't we look tense.

[ ... or he could do that instead, yes, Ethan; brattiness is a universal constant, whatever reality he's from. ]

[consultmybooks]

Participate in far too many holidays and watch gladiators complete against all manner of vicious beasts for your entertainment?

That was what generally went on in Rome, at the end.

[contrarian]

Well, dear, if it's that or the Chippendales.

[consultmybooks]

I don't care how separated you are from a dead servant of chaos, I still wish you wouldn't call me that.

[Death goddesses wielding chainsaws call him that.]

[contrarian]

[ a beat, a laugh-- ]

You poncy fuck, Rupert.

[ is that better. ]

[consultmybooks]

[This gets a raised eyebrow from this particular former Watcher.]

Did I ever allow you to speak that way around Buffy or Dawn?