badfic_manor | 001: Discovery; (in which mun took FOREVER to post)

[ James awakes with a start, lifting his head off the--carpet? that's strange, ships don't usually have carpet--and looking around. He pushes himself to a sitting position, lifts his hand to his forehead to brush the wisps of the powdered-white hair from his wig, his hat gone missing. A quick glance affirms the existence of his hat, only a few feet from his person.

His hand pats his side for the sword holster buckled at his waist, and he breathes a sigh of relief before standing--shakily, but standing nonetheless--and catches sight of himself in the mirror at a small vanity. He looks awful, with disheveled, natural brown hair peeking out from the wig, what he assumes is a carpet burn? on his right cheek, a tear in the sleeve of his overcoat, and he's also missing...a shoe--ah, it's there, just a few feet away from where the hat was. Regardless, he looks in no way fit for the Royal Navy, and so he immediately sets to work on fixing just that. ]

I don't even remember any sort of fighting. Was I captured? But why would I still have my sword?

[ After he has pulled his leggings down from where they'd pushed up on his legs, pulled on the rebellious shoe, straightened his clothes, and tucked every last strand of his hair neatly into his now-combed wig, he looks around the room. It's decorated in rich wood paneling and blue curtains, and--not candles. What are those? Glass lights...but how?--nevertheless, he is utterly and completely confused. ]

I would not hesitate to ask if this is a pirate's trick, but I see no way for that to be possible. Not really gifted in hallucinogens, are they?

[ He mumbles more to himself, but wonders if anybody is nearby.

He walks to the bed on one wall of the room, and atop the pillow, finds a small object that flips open and has a...an animated portrait? ]

Have I gone mad? Am I dead?

[ He decides to try the door, and as he turns the knob and steps out into a bright hallway gingerly, he can't help but wonder if he really underestimated Jack Sparrow's abilities. Was he behind all of this? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Does Badou even really need an excuse to be snooping around the halls on the opposite side of the fancy (read as: shitty in his p.o.v, not enough smoke) guest rooms upstairs? Nope, snoops gon snoop, and as he strolls around, smoke billowing like a smokestack choochoo above his greasy head, he nearly barrels into a particularly seedy looking character emerging from one of the rooms, eyeing him with confusion]

....Didn't know the chicks here were the type to hire candy asses on the weekdays. Especially ones that're all Red Coat an' Revolution-y. Thought there was only cops an ' firefighters in jigalo types these days...

[In the midst of his rambling he registers the others confuzzled mutterings] Naw, you ain't dead, mang. Just calm your G-string, s'all good, head between your legs, deep breaths.

'Chicks'? I fail to see any livestock here, Mister...what's your name? Revolutionary? What gives you the idea I'm a 'revolutionary' or 'redcoat'? Clearly there is a language barrier between us, because I am not quite sure you're speaking English.

So...if I am alive...what is this? Just don't tell me Sparrow's here, and I'll be fine.

[As if to jizz in the eye of ol Norrgingknickers thoughts, Badou lets another thick plume of smoke stream from his lips, unconsciously of course no natural r00d vibes- yet-, and he squints quizzically. This wasn't a Y2K countdown, what century was this guy stumbling from]

Uhhh no I mean humans of the curvy titty persuasion. Y'know, ladies. Women. You ain't a neanderthal so gruntin' won't translate....females. [He brushes off the totally weird culture shock with a shrug] The name's Badou. Badou Nails. How bout you, tall wiggy an tea hoardin? You gotta name?

Tch, everyone's a goddamn critic. English is english....english guy. As for your wayward boyfriend, dunno, he mind end up here. Anyhow you're stuck in the manor same as us thanks to some girl with too much time on her hands. Lucky you.

And I'm the Neanderthal...whatever that may be?

Badou Nails, hm? I'm Commodore James Norrington----and it is quite the pleasure to meet you.

English can be barbaric, and you, I'm not sorry to say, have a terrible grasp on the language. You remind me of him in some ways. My 'wayward boyfriend'? You have very much the wrong idea about my feelings regarding that particular...person.

Well, if that is the case, I'm sure I can make the best of this situation with such...colorful fellow prisoners.

[Blow away my wayward son- oh]

Well nawwww mang, you ain't. No loin cloth, thank fuck, an no unibrow. You're clean, no worries.

[If Badou detects the kind and oh so warm and fuzzy tone he dismisses it, way too preoccupied with staring at the tufts of wig peeking out from under Norrington's hat and trying to determine the legitness of it all, dammit] Yeah yeah yeah nice to meetcha too, Colonel Slim Jim, keep the handcuffs an the grog to yourself- well no forget that last part.

An' you seem to have a wonderful grasp of not knowin' when to stop an smell the wig powder, bro. [Once again Badou ignores the disdain in favor of giving Norrington lip] I remind you of your boyfriend? Dunno if I'm supposed to be flattered or what. Thanks...?

Ohhh yeah we're a load of fingerpaints an half cocked guns, man, welcome to the party, let down your hair, pull up an easy chair. It'll be so much fuckin' fun. [And have a sneer in return]

~~and one of them is a page on wigs~~

As if I would ever touch that vile drink. You are more than welcome to it - and handcuffs? Why would I need--you know, I already wonder if it can prove fruitless to ask questions of you. 'Slim Jim'? I don't think I quite like that name, Mister Nails. And it's Commodore.

I do not need to 'smell the wig powder.' I enjoy my life and line of work plenty.

It certainly does not sound 'fun' but I suppose I must make what I can of it. As long as I can avoid the likes of you I should have a fine time.

Alright no need to getcher wiggy knickers in a twist, man, that's bad for circulation. So you ain't much of a drinker, we'll get that partied right outta you on a good friday night, no worries. I....[Badou's eye shifts and he has the decency to tut like a total asshole] you ain't supposed to talk the trade like that, mang, gotta keep up the mysterious rep. An you can ask me lotsa things, it'll just cost ya Slim Jim, just doin' my job.
[Dickish Nickname Achievement: Unlocked. Badou could get used to a little r-e-s-p-e-c-t]

Clearly you do, wash it first before you give it a whiff, ay? Maybe that's why you're here, nirvana an shit. Vacation.

Psssh I'll make it a point to drop in with my lil words of wisdom for you every now'n again, just for that.

001: Discovery; (in which mun took FOREVER to post)

[lights wig action] christ why is this so hard (.....) plz forgive me

god no it's beautiful, and this wig will never mean the same again.

CHRIST I'm sobbing can I use the wig to blow (....) my nose or

if you do, expect wrath, but I as mun would not be against it...............

Saving the boogers just for the occasion, mark my words

I just want you to know I have 4 tabs open of 18th century fashion...

PFFFT! You gotta make sacrifices, you big poof <3 I bet his wig smells like the tears of pirates