01.16.09 - Bad Influence

Location: Redwall Cavern Hole

Characters Involved: Darcy, Harper, Bradge

Darcy wears a woolen cap tugged down over her head, which keeps her long ears splayed down to either side of her head. There's a scarf trailing behind her as she exits the kitchen with a plate of food and a mug of something warm.

Harper is already in here! He's kind of sneaky like that. He's hunkered down in a chair with his legs tucked up and sitting sideways with parchment on his lap and quill in paw. He looks decidedly unBrotherly! But those habits do make for quite good cover in the winter. He is doodling idly in the margin. There is a stick-figure squirrel in Abbot's garb hanging upside down from the rafters, which are more suggested at than drawn. And there's a stick-figure Novice staring upward in horror.

Darcy and her dinner aim over to where Harper is seated, and the doe pauses alongside the Brother's chair, leeeaning over to peer at his ... doodles. "Very studious, Harper. Industrious, even."

Harper is torn from his revelry! Woe. He blinks, looks up. Blinks again! "Oh. Darcy. Hi." He grins a little bit. "I record the /very/ important events. The most important? In doodle-form."

"... which, ah. ... I guess makes the Abbot doing acrobatics important," Darcy snickers, eyeing the doodles and then moving to seat herself in the next chair over. "Actually. That would be impressive. .. unlikely, but, impressive."

Harper points to the doodle, tapping it with the wrong end of the quill. "This," he punctuates, "actually happened." He nods! "He's an Abbot, but he's still a squirrel." He grins, segueing fantastically. "So how're you?"

Darcy's eyebrows quirk upward. "Yes but. He's also an /old/ squirrel. Thus my surprise." As she talks she breaks off a chunk of gooey-yummy-gravy-filled pasty and eats it. Mmf. "Mm. I'm well enough. Impatient among other things. But how're /you/? You're the one who about died."

In a room page-pose, Harper has dazzling timing.

"Old... but still a squirrel." Harper's smile deepens. He shrugs. "Though I suppose when you have examples like the Colonel." Aaaaaand the question. He's been asked that a lot lately! By the Novices and the other Brothers and Sisters and by the odd cook or two, even. "I feel... great. Pretty great. Healthy. Alive, which is the important thing."

Darcy uses her finger to wipe up some gravy from the edge of her plate, and licks it off. Her legs fold up on the chair. "Sort of .. tedious, I'd figure. Being asked, over and over." She pauses, taking a moment to consider. ".. I'll bypass the kid-question also. Do you drink much?" This bit of random comes along with a quirky smile.

Harper tries to look apologetic when she sees through his rather perfunctory answer, but all he can do is shrug and smile, really. At the question, though, he hesitates. "The odd drink here and there, I suppose, like anyone else. Why?"

"First thing to come to mind," Darcy answers with a shrug. "You know .. attempt at conversation we both haven't had twenty times over. I had a godawful hangover the first half of yesterday. Never has the coughing been quite so /loud/.." She grins, and brings the pasty up for another bite.

Harper looks mildly amused. "Fair enough. I can appreciate new." He considers a moment, setting aside parchment and quill and steeling his fingers. He rests his chin on the perch of his thumbs, index fingers pressed to his lips. Thoughtful. "Why the hangover?" he queries, with a small upturning of his brow.

Darcy rolls one shoulder in a shrug. "Me and Brenden took a break from the infirmary and wound up down in the cellar. ... and I found some berry-flavored vodka. Heh. Not something I've done in a while, either, but I figure, certain ahh.. current circumstances allow for it. Want some?" The last third or so of the pasty is on her plate.

Harper's muzzle breaks out in a slow smile. "Had a feelin' it had somethin' t'd do with Brenden. There's rumors, ya know." As for the question, he considers a moment. "... I probably shouldn't."

Darcy snorts. "There're always rumors. Brenden's just ... I don't even know, something. Take the pasty, Harper, /I'm/ certainly not eating the rest. The tiny stature comes with a tiny stomach."

Harper shrugs, reaches across. Takes it. He takes a nibble on it. "He asked you to the play, didn't he?"

"And little Bobby Joe asked me to the midwinter bonfire when I was a leveret," Darcy mutters in reply. With Harper nibbling the rest of her food, she lifts her mug and sips at it. "Actually that's a lie, it was old Mister Meyers the creepy squirrel. Regardless."

"You're not a leveret anymore," Harper notes with amusement. But he leaves it at that. Then again, he's at a loss for what else to talk about. If not juicy gossip, what? "Soooo."

"Right. So being an adult .. or making a decent pretence, anyway," Darcy mutters, muzzle tugging into a smile with wry amusement. "... that /obviously/ means if a guy asks me to a play, or a dance, or what-have-you - well gosh-darn," Sarcastic as ever, "now I need to write up a guest list!"

Harper snorts. Shakes his head. And holds his paws up in defeat. "Far be it for me to ask t'be in the weddin' party." He grins, though. "But it /does/ make for fun chit-chat in the Great Hall."

Darcy rolls her eyes and takes another swallow of the drink, shifting herself to aim at him. "Oh, I don't know. You'd look adorable, all dressed up in.. ah. Your formal habit, I guess? I'm sure I can find you a bowtie somewhere."

Now /that/ gets a proper laugh. Harper chuckles. "I try t'avoid the formal habit whenever possible. It's too stiff 'n' scratchy." He grins. "So I'll only come t'you 'n' Bren's wedding if I c'n wear my regular old day-to-day habit." Nod.

She tries, she really does. Then he says 'you and Bren's wedding' and the doe suddenly starts to crack up, leaning into the arm of her chair, setting down her mug so as to not spill the contents. That hand then comes up, rubbing at the side of her face. "... that is. That. ... yes, sure, fine," she snickers.

Harper loses it, as well. He snickers into his paws. "... So I take it I shouldn't do you a favor 'n' make up the invitations, eh?"

Darcy was just catching her breath, dammit! Then she cackles, reaches up, and drags her hat down over the front of her face. Some attempt to stifle the laughter, maybe. "Ahah, hahaha, heh! Oh. .. oh bloody. Aheheh. Hah! .. yes, yes, /do/, do! And-and..! Make them all, heh, cursive and pretty! Only the /best/ parchment for /my/ invitations!"

"I will add all the possible curly-cues I c'n manage, good Lady." Harper isn't quite cackling, but he is looking at Darcy with high good humor. He chuckles, shaking his head. "Poor Brenden, he'd be crushed t'hear you laughin' like this." Grin.

The hat is shoved against her face, and Darcy bites into the wool. Her ears are stuck up now, short hair ruffled. The doe has to wait until her last giggle-fit passes before looking at Harper again, grinning wide and ruffling one palm through her copper locks to get rid of any semblance of hat-hair. "... well. Then. It is a very good thing he's not here, poor thing." She tries very hard to be solemn and sympathetic.

Harper can just tell it's pulling at her heart strings. He just looks at her a moment, then shakes his head. "Ahhh, well. He's tough."

Darcy snicker again, and reaches for her cup. ".. I'm sorry. I'm awful. I just ... I'm not an /idiot/. Why would I get involved, /seriously/, with a Long Patroller?"

Okay, /that/ just cracks him up. Silently, though. In his head! He keeps a straight face. "Are you callin' my mother an idiot?"

Darcy's ears twitch. "... well. I guess that depends on if your mother was a Long Patroller also," she replies carefully, gaze searching Harper's face for any sign of humor. Hm.

Darcy says, "Don't get me wrong .. there are a lot of /good/ /looking/ bucks in the Patrol."

Harper cracks a smile. He shakes his head. "No, she was a Novice, actually. Then I came along to muck up her scholarly plans!" His smile widens and he shakes his head. "Well, I wouldn't know about good-lookin' bucks. Not quite m'thing, are they?"

"No, you like m--" Darcy cuts herself off. See, she has tact when necessary. The doe clears her throat. "... sorry, ah. More .. the more ... something something. So tell me 'bout your mum, then!" Good save, Darc.

Harper smirks. "Stay blunt, Darce. Stick t'what ya know." But he lets it go. "My mum? Angela. She's great. /Not/ an idiot. Mayhaps not the smartest in love, but not an idiot." The buck shrugs, steepling his fingers again.

"Yeah, I should at that," Darcy mutters, flashing Harper a quick grin. She shakes her head. "Wasn't there something about her coming here soon? Anyway. I'm /sure/ she's not an idiot, Harp. But /I/ would be an idiot to get involved with a Patroller. I like Redwall. I do well here. The last thing I need is some ... hook and reel dragging me off toward Salamandastron, you know?"

"They c'n be stationed here, you know. They c'n even ask for the assignment." Harper shrugs. Answering the latter question before the former. "And... I haven't asked 'er. I don't know."

Darcy shrugs. "That's .. not the point. And I'm fairly sure you /know/ that's not the point. ... anyway. Let me know if she's coming - even just to visit. I'm sure there's all sorts of baby-Harper stories I can learn from her." Grin.

Harper shrugs! He's not her keeper. Harper smiles faintly, nods. "I'll do that. Aye. Though I have it on good authority I was an unimaginative child."

"Not at all like your own, then," Darcy chuckles in response. She adjusts her position again, mug in hand. Her back is to the arm of her chair, knees bent up, her feet against the inside of the other arm. Still facing Harper, she sips from her not-very-hot-anymore drink. "Or. Maybe you're just trying to throw me off the scent of your humiliation, hmmm?"

Harper chuckles - shakes his head. "No... m'afraid I'm frightfully lackin' in imagination." He smiles. "Talk t'my brother if you want hijinks stories."

"Well unfortunately for you your brother's not around," Darcy responds. "I'll just have to suffer your unimaginative company. What shame. What /woe/," she deadpans.

Okay, it was almost deadpan.

Bradge's paws outstretch, and his mouth opens wide in a yawn. That's what he must've been doing just before entering the Cavern Hole, because he's in the middle of it when he actually does enter, eyes closed as he makes his way across the room, shuffling over to his chairs. He flicks open his eyes to see who over there's talking, and smiles (big surprise). "Brother 'arper." He hails the Order member. "Good ta see ya outta bed." A similar smile is delivered to Darcy. "Evenin', miss Darcy."

"How ever will you survive it?" Harper wonders at her. And is about to say something - surely /very/ witty and imaginative - when Bradge arrives. Ah! Saved by the bell. "Evenin', Bradge. It's good t' /be/ up outta bed."

"Bradge!" Darcy says to the novice with a grin, lifting the mug she holds. "Evening. Care to join us?" To Harper: "It'll be a challenge. Epic challenge, really. They're write stories and ballads of how I survive. /If/ I do."

"There's a question for the ages. If something grand happens to the Record, who writes the record then?" Harper smirks. Just a bit of office humor, though! "Yeah - come join us, Bradge."

Darcy snorts. "Don't you have some sort of apprentice? I mean. You're all high-up and important now, aren't you, Mister Recorder?"

"Don't care none at all," Bradge replies. Instead of working, he gets leisure time. Bonus. He pads over to the pair, suppressing another yawn, pulling up a chair near the other two and plopping down in it with a long, relaxed sigh. "Thankya."

"Well, there's this young lad I'm supposed t'be teachin', buuuuut. I get the feelin' he's only here because mum 'n' da' told him t'be." Harper grins and shrugs, then looks to Bradge. "Not like Bradge, here. You kind of put all of us other past 'n' present Novices t'shame, mate. How're you so cheerful 'n' pleasant all the time?"

"Good bleeding question," Darcy mutters. Her drink is done, and she just goes on holding the mug. "Bradge, I've got money on you for being Abbot one day. ... okay I don't /actually/, but I should."

"Uh, well," Bradge starts, shifting to be more upright in his chair. "Mama always said ta me when I was sad that if'n I thought jes' for a short while, even if I was /really/ upset about somethin', that I could always come up with somethin' else 'at gives me a reason to be 'appy." At the mention of Abbot, though, the young otter's eyes widen. "Oh, no ma'am, I don't reckon I could ever be up for all 'at responsibility." His laugh is a sort of awkward one. "I'm 'appy you think I'm Abbot material, though."

Hiiilarious. Harper looks between the pair. "Well, you've got step one t'Abbothood down, anyway. 'Nonono, I don't want the job.' Check."

"Heh. Wonder why you see so many beasts running around wanting to be Champion but no one after the Abbot position," Darcy chuckles. "I figure Abbot's safer anyway. Less likely to die on the job."

"Champion gets all the glory without all the dreaded paperwork," Harper snorts.

"Reckon it's 'ard ta be champion without the sword," Bradge adds, shrugging. "Think it'd be funny if'n it was right under our noses the whole time. Don't reckon we've needed one in a while, though. Abbey's gotten along jes' fine, right?"

"Fine enough," Darcy says with a shrug. "Find me a sword that kills disease and I'll be the first one trying to hunt it down. Heh."

"I reckon Turmal'd disagree with ya there," Harper pops out - before he can stop himself. His paw immediately comes up and smacks over his mouth. Aheh.

Bradge glances at Harper, question in his eyes. "Doesn't Martin usually let us know 'fore somethin' 'at requires a Champion 'appens?" The otter folds his paws in his lap. "I'd say let it be 'til we 'ear from 'im, but who knows 'ow 'e works anymore."

Darcy just about chokes on the laughter that comes in response. Her hat is brought to her mouth, muffling the snickering until she swallows them back. ".. heh, heheheh. Good plan, Bradge. Let's .. go with that."

Darcy is not helping! That's okay, Harper's trying to look horrified with himself, but all succeeds in doing by holding in the laughter is having it sneak it. What sound does pent up laughter make when forced out between mostly closed lips? You provide the sound effect. "... Darce, you are a bad influence. Bradge, yer righ'. Martin knows. No doubt we'll know in our dreams well before a Champion presents itself."

"I am, I am. Horrible, awful influence," Darcy agrees, grinning. "Do you really want me to stop?"

Bradge's ears swivel as he looks back and forth between Harper and Darcy. He /may/ not understand what's so funny, but he's hanging out with the big kids, so he tries not to act dumb.

Harper reaches over - gives Bradge's shoulder a playful shake. "You're all righ', mate." But! He grins at Darcy, unfolds himself from his chair. Stands. "I think I'll remove m'self from the circle of your influence, actually. Oooor... okay, I'm just tired, 'n' I'm going t'sleep." He nods to both. "Have a good night, aye?"

Darcy lifts her mug in a sort of playful toasting-salute .. something. "Aye aye! Same for you, Harp. Don't hurt yourself going up the stairs, Mister Recorder, now that you're functional I'd like for you to /stay/ that way." Grin.

"Aye, g'night, 'arper." Bradge looks kind of confused as the hare goes to make his exit.

Harper returns the salute with his very own. Bradge ought to know the practiced ease of that! He spent time at Sala too. And then he just waves and turns and he's off! To bed.

Darcy watches Harper go, then settles back. She's all tucked up cozily in her chair, not eager to get up and go any time soon.

Bradge tries to stop looking confused, even though he is, at just what they were snickering about. So, he just smiles and pulls both his legs up in the chair, sitting 'Indian' style with his knees up on either arm of the chair. Okay, so curiosity gets the best of him. "Er, jes' why're you a bad influence?"

Darcy's eyes trail back to Bradge and she smiles. "'cause I have a rotten sense of humor. By which I mean, a /great/ sense of humor. Very ... humorous. Just not always very nice."

"Ah, I see. What's Turmal think about the sword, then?" Bradge's heard the name before, maybe he's met him.

Darcy shrugs. "Don't reckon he's doing much thinking where he is now."

"Oh..." Bradge thinks on this for a moment. "...Where is 'e?"

Darcy says, "Dead."

"...Oh." Bradge's ears swivel again. "May 'e rest in peace." This doesn't clear up any of his confusion, but he doesn't want to talk about that anymore.

Darcy's ears twitch a little. "... so. Who'd you borrow that dress from, anyway?" Chaaaaange of subject.

"Iiiii, uh. Well, I didn't really borrow it from no one, really." Bradge at least lightens back up, seeming quite eager to do so. "Tameus, 'arper's son, found all the costumes an' stuff, I think, so you'd 'afta ask him."

"Aha. ... except for the hat," Darcy points out, smirking. "That big ridiculous hat Siv wore? Yeah, we went hat-hunting for that one. You did real good, Bradge, I never got to tell you."

Bradge looks sort of downward, smiling shyly. "Aw, it wasn't nothin', really." The otter chuckles, his paws still folded in his lap. "Jes' about threw out my voice screamin', though..."

"You about broke some windows, too," Darcy teases him good-naturedly. "Hopefully next time around you'll get cast for, ahh .. something male?" Heh.

"Well, 'at's what I'm 'opin' anyway. Either way, I 'ope there /is/ a next time," Bradge smiles out, paws resting on his own knees now. "It was nice seein' everybeast with smiles on their faces."

"It was good," Darcy agrees, and lets out a slow breath. "It... was good. You should be real proud, kid," she tells him. "You and Tam and. ... the Colonel." And she snickers. "I will never .. never stop wanting to cackle when I think about that last bit. The part where Tam stepped on her head. Heh."

"Er, thankya." How can someone who smiles so much portray some of them as so sincere? Bradge offers one of those to Darcy. "I don't know if'n the Colonel was even expectin' 'at ta happen. I'll be honest, I kinda forgot the script about 'alfway through. Reckon my character didn't do much but swoon an' scream anyways, but I 'ad lots of fun doin' it."

How, indeed. Darcy smiles right back, a sort of rare, soft smile free of her usual sharp edges. "It was brilliant. Really. Probably all the better for the ad libbing, too."

"I donno about /brilliant./" Bradge chortles. "Don't reckon any of us'll be try'n out for any actin' troupes over the next season or so."

"Heh. Likely not," Darcy snickers. "But still. Brilliant is my word-o'-choice. I don't think I have /ever/ laughed that hard."

"I'm glad you liked it," Bradge says, almost softly, but not quite. "Tam an' Sivaine wrote the script, so if'n you 'ave a chance, tell them what a good time you 'ad, too." Oh boy. He stretches out, barely finishing that sentence in time before a yawn escapes him. "Er, scuse me... Reckon it's an hour or two past my bedtime. Gotta get up early an' stuff." The otter slips out of the chair with a tinge of regret in the movement. "'ave a good night, miss Darcy."

"Already have. Well. Siv, anyway." Who just glared at her, haha. The doe nods, allowing herself a bit of a yawn. "You sleep well too, okay? I'll see you around tomorrow." She gives Bradge a fond smile - what a sweetheart he is!

"I'll see you tomorrow, too." That's all from the otter as he pads tiredly to the exit, yawning and making his way up the stairs, and eventually to the dormitories.