(Seriously, it's like a cat getting murdered while playing the oboe.)

[a_pirate_meant_to_be]

Who: Guybrush Threepwood, OPEN
Where: Virgo District
Summary: Guybrush is sporting an odd fashion accessory today. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Warnings: There's a monkey in your pocket and it's stealing all your change.
The pirate Guybrush Threepwood -- and he IS, in fact, a pirate, even if it is hard to believe at, well, pretty much any time of the week -- has always managed to accrue a few stares whenever he goes out, primarily because he appears to be a grown man who's still going out in his favorite pirate costume every single day. Today, however, he's getting even more odd looks than usual as he goes about doing his grocery shopping, something which is not lost on him.

The piece of tape over his mouth might have something to do with it.

He's clearly not happy about it, going about his business with a sullen look. He's got a pad of paper and a pencil, thankfully, but one wonders exactly why he's out and about like this in the first place. Unless... the recent nanomachine malfunctions have something to do with it? Who knows.

Comments

[echo_of_a_jedi]

...The Exile is trying to analyze this situation, but she can't figure it out. At least he was paying for things this time. She herself has a grocery cart filled mostly with instant foods and a curious look on her face.

thanks for the laugh. I'm already enjoying your Guybrush. ♥

[poorlittleblueburdie]

While going through the aisles looking for items, he might happen to notice a very peculiar-looking demon also doing some shopping. Blue skin, a pretty face between ears about a foot long each, hands with two fingers and a thumb, tipped with big black nails, neatly manicured... oh, and wings. Huge, black, feathered wings. They looked civilized enough, hair neatly pulled back into a tight little ponytail, wearing a soft green robe of some sort over muted purple clothes, frowning thoughtfully at the ingredients list on a round pint tub of vanilla ice cream... but their shopping list seemed to be about as odd as the one Guybrush had.

The shopping basket they held had, so far, several soup-from-the-deli type containers in which a nearly-black red liquid sloshed gently, several bottles of colorful flavored syrups like one would make Italian sodas from, or flavor coffee with, some small bottles of flavor extracts and some little containers of various spices from the baking aisle, a little package of butterscotch pudding cups, a bottle of chocolate syrup, a bag of assorted lollipops, candy canes, a small bottle of honey....

And now they seemed to be pondering ice cream, whistling softly to themselves under their breath.

No, no... whistling was inaccurate. Their lips weren't pulled into the little "o" shape that whistling normally required; they were closed. But it wasn't the sound of humming, either, some low, melodic burble. Given the angel-elf-bird-thing's appearance, cooing seemed like an appropriate enough thing to call it.

And they might not have actually been a demon, either. Since when did those seem so incredibly fascinated with a simple container of ice cream, as though it was a foreign substance, while out grocery shopping? Did demons go grocery-shopping? ...At this time of day?

They didn't look away from the little container of dessert as they slowly turned, taking it away from its section, and stepped out from the aisle. Whether, in their rather thorough distraction, they walked into Guybrush's path, or into him, you the next moment or so would decide.