They're Coming to Get You, Guybrush!

[a_pirate_meant_to_be]

Who: Guybrush, and Others.
Where: Prompt A: In his apartment. Prompt B: Any given place around town, but especially Sagittarius and Virgo
Summary: Guybrush Threepwood, Jumpy Pirate.
Warnings: Connected to the Scorpio event.
A: [PUBLIC; Apartment Libra |5-04]

The sound of things being shifted around can be heard in Guybrush's apartment. It's hard to imagine what he could be doing in there, but he's not coming out either way. Is he redecorating or something? The door's locked, so if anybody wants to ask about it, knocking is a requirement. What IS he doing in there?

B: [PUBLIC; Around town]

Anybody who's gotten to know Guybrush at all knows the guy tends to prefer using extremely convoluted solutions to things before he dares dream of using something like a weapon. Yet here he is, hitting up all the weapon stores in town, trying to haggle folks down and interest them in trades for "something that's real good against intruders." And failing, generally, because mostly what he's got is an assortment of useless junk. Well, and a sword, which you'd think is good against intruders, but apparently isn't good ENOUGH. Every so often, too, he's peeking around corners as if expecting something to jump out.

VERY weird.

Comments

[a_pirate_meant_to_be]

He yelps, falling backwards, and dropping all of said shabby weapons. If you can call them weapons. They look more like rejects the various weaponsmiths wanted to get rid of and just dumped them on the crazy poor guy who thinks he's a pirate. Why he didn't just put them into his inventory is anybody's guess; maybe he just wanted them on hand.

He realizes that it's just an angel. Angel's aren't terrible harbingers of doom. ...Surely. "Dangit." He begins gathering them up again. Then looking at them closely. Then chucking most of them in a garbage can with the exception of a slightly bent baseball bat.

Yeah, they're that terrible.

[gforceinmyfaaaace]

"...are you okay?"

Dude looks like he could use several cups of chamomile.

[a_pirate_meant_to_be]

"Who me? Fine! Just fine! No worries about evil zombie pirates possibly out for revenge or the demon apocalypse happening any day now here!" he replies too quickly. Because that's just silly, right? Ah ha ha... ah ha.

[gforceinmyfaaaace]

...

"I'd buy you a drink but they'd kick me out of the bar."

[a_pirate_meant_to_be]

"Eh, that's okay. I think drinking right now would only dull the senses in case something really terrible happens. Like a fire drill, or the mass annihilation of mankind." Boy, what a pessimist.

[gforceinmyfaaaace]

Pit blinks. "I really don't think that's gonna happen."

[a_pirate_meant_to_be]

"Don't be too sure! I have a gut feeling something really, really bad is gonna happen. And a pirate's gut is absolute, unless it's been eroded away by years of unhealthy drinking habits." He seems awfully confident about his doomsaying.

[gforceinmyfaaaace]

"...are you sure you're okay? 'cause you're sounding awfully paranoid."

[a_pirate_meant_to_be]

"Why? What's it to you?" He eyes him suspiciously. "You don't know anything, do you?" Way to prove his point, Guybrush.

[gforceinmyfaaaace]

Pit gives him a very flat, annoyed expression.

Then sticks out the bag of candy.

"I think there's some chocolate in here."

[a_pirate_meant_to_be]

"Ooh, chocolate." Paranoia forgotten. FOR NOW, ANYWAY.