Post by Shhasow on Apr 28, 2013 8:29:28 GMT 10
Title: Turncoat
Rating:PG
Word Count: 572
Pairing: G/R
Round/Fight: 1C
Summary: Roger visits George in jail.
“I can’t believe you left me in here,” came the highly dissatisfied voice of the Rogue. “What will my people think, their own King, nabbed and booked by the Guard. Disgraceful.”
“Oh shut your mouth, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Roger snapped. “And keep your voice down, you idiot. Do you want the Guards to hear you?”
“If I know you, and I do, you’ve already put them to sleep, so put up a bleedin light already so I can get out of here.”
Silence. Then orange light flickered in the dark, and it grew steadily until George caught the gleam of Roger’s Conte blue eyes and his irritating smirk. “It’s completely your fault, you know,” the Rogue grumbled. “If it weren’t for your crazy plan and silver tongue, I never would have even been in the Palace in the first place.”
Roger, the pool of orange dancing in his hand, lounged with an easy stance. “Last I remember, you rather enjoyed my tongue.”
“You’re a foul liar,” George said heatedly - and hurridly - his face flushing. “Now, are you going to get me out or not?”
“Perhaps I should leave you there, since you’re enjoying your stay so much. At least, whilst in there, you’re safe from handsome, dashing Dukes possessing a distinct lack of scruples.”
“As true as that is, it doesn’t matter now. Let me out!”
Roger met his hazel eyes squarely, boring into them. “What do I get out of it if I do?”
George swallowed deeply. “Ah, well, I have contacts, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement, some agreement.”
The Duke smirked. “I bet we can.” He leaned forward. “I claim a forfeit from you, little Rogue.”
“Piss off!”
He shrugged and let the orange fire dim. “Very well, then I shall leave. I know His Lord Provost has been most eager to get his hands on you, the Head Rogue, for quite a while. Now that he has you, well, not even my power extends that far.”
He paused, waiting, and let the light fade away until it resembles a mere ember.
Predictably...
“Fine.”
The light brightened a hair. “What was that, I’m afraid I didn’t hear you,” Roger said innocently.
“I said... fine. What is your forfeit?”
“Why, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I suppose you - I mean it - will come to me soon.”
“Twisted son of a-”
“Ah ah ah, what was that?” Roger said with a teasing lilt.
George glared, though the effect was lost on the Duke. “I said fine. Let me out and name your forfeit.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Roger waved his hand with a flick, and the lock on the metal door clicked audibly. George Cooper, the King of the Lower City, slunk out of the cell, a wary eye on the other man.
“Was that so hard?” George grumbled
“Why yes, yes it was.”
“Difficult! I meant difficult, you bleedin idiot.”
“Tut tut, my little Rogue. I shall have to teach you better manners.”
“My own Ma couldn’t, what makes you think that you can, noble.” George spat out the last word.
“We shall see,” Roger said simply. “As for the forfeit, why, I simply have no idea. I shall have to think about it to come up with something appropriate.”
“More likely inappropriate, if I know you at all.”
“Why, Georgie, I do believe you are indeed starting to know me.”
Rating:PG
Word Count: 572
Pairing: G/R
Round/Fight: 1C
Summary: Roger visits George in jail.
“I can’t believe you left me in here,” came the highly dissatisfied voice of the Rogue. “What will my people think, their own King, nabbed and booked by the Guard. Disgraceful.”
“Oh shut your mouth, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Roger snapped. “And keep your voice down, you idiot. Do you want the Guards to hear you?”
“If I know you, and I do, you’ve already put them to sleep, so put up a bleedin light already so I can get out of here.”
Silence. Then orange light flickered in the dark, and it grew steadily until George caught the gleam of Roger’s Conte blue eyes and his irritating smirk. “It’s completely your fault, you know,” the Rogue grumbled. “If it weren’t for your crazy plan and silver tongue, I never would have even been in the Palace in the first place.”
Roger, the pool of orange dancing in his hand, lounged with an easy stance. “Last I remember, you rather enjoyed my tongue.”
“You’re a foul liar,” George said heatedly - and hurridly - his face flushing. “Now, are you going to get me out or not?”
“Perhaps I should leave you there, since you’re enjoying your stay so much. At least, whilst in there, you’re safe from handsome, dashing Dukes possessing a distinct lack of scruples.”
“As true as that is, it doesn’t matter now. Let me out!”
Roger met his hazel eyes squarely, boring into them. “What do I get out of it if I do?”
George swallowed deeply. “Ah, well, I have contacts, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement, some agreement.”
The Duke smirked. “I bet we can.” He leaned forward. “I claim a forfeit from you, little Rogue.”
“Piss off!”
He shrugged and let the orange fire dim. “Very well, then I shall leave. I know His Lord Provost has been most eager to get his hands on you, the Head Rogue, for quite a while. Now that he has you, well, not even my power extends that far.”
He paused, waiting, and let the light fade away until it resembles a mere ember.
Predictably...
“Fine.”
The light brightened a hair. “What was that, I’m afraid I didn’t hear you,” Roger said innocently.
“I said... fine. What is your forfeit?”
“Why, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I suppose you - I mean it - will come to me soon.”
“Twisted son of a-”
“Ah ah ah, what was that?” Roger said with a teasing lilt.
George glared, though the effect was lost on the Duke. “I said fine. Let me out and name your forfeit.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Roger waved his hand with a flick, and the lock on the metal door clicked audibly. George Cooper, the King of the Lower City, slunk out of the cell, a wary eye on the other man.
“Was that so hard?” George grumbled
“Why yes, yes it was.”
“Difficult! I meant difficult, you bleedin idiot.”
“Tut tut, my little Rogue. I shall have to teach you better manners.”
“My own Ma couldn’t, what makes you think that you can, noble.” George spat out the last word.
“We shall see,” Roger said simply. “As for the forfeit, why, I simply have no idea. I shall have to think about it to come up with something appropriate.”
“More likely inappropriate, if I know you at all.”
“Why, Georgie, I do believe you are indeed starting to know me.”
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!