[For this, apparently, there's a little cup of darts set to the side, and Weir draws closer to the booth to pick it up and examine them. There's one for Gebura, too, but she can examine hers when it's her turn.]
You say you're good with a sword, but how's your aim?
[At a distance, look at all the balloons waiting to be popped! Surely they will not be covered in glitter should Weir meet his target, though he's feeling the odd plastic of the dart first, turning it over in his fingers.]
[He says, idly and lowly as he turns the dart over in his fingers once more, then lifts it up properly like one would before tossing it at a target.]
Guns, I mean. We-
[And then, with an easy throw, he sends the dart flying. It hits its target, popping one of the balloon directly in the center, and-
It pops and sprays glitter in a burst, gold and silver and oh-so-sparkly, wafting their way suddenly and without warning. Whatever Weir was going to say next, it's cut off as he tries to take a step away from the sparkling sheen and bumps into Gebura instead. What the fuck!]
[ She does kind of shake out her ponytail and some of it does gracefully float to the ground, though so much more of it remains in her hair. Great. Truly ideal. ]
[That's a lot of hair, and therefore, a lot of glitter. He watches it shimmer to the floor before he grumbles and steps forward.]
Fine, then let me go. Might as well finish what we've started; can hardly get any messier than this.
[One tempts fate with such words.
But Weir throws his dart, aiming to pop his second balloon. Hilariously, the dart throws... just barely wide of its target, landing sticking in the wall beside it.]
[He scoffs. Loudly! He won't even afford her a sidelong glance this time, though, looking to focus enough so he doesn't make a fool of himself again.
So, Weir throws his dart. It hits a balloon, and the popping noise resounds loudly.]
There, see.
[See what, Weir? That you have decent aim? Good for you. Anyway, he won't even ask to switch turns again. He just grabs another dart and repeats the task, with the same flick of the wrist, and another one goes pop!
Lights flash. A little ringing noise of success emanates from the booth, and the "prize" shelf nearby lights up, hereby illuminating...
A row of sticky hands in little plastic baggies. You know, so they remain sticky until they're opened up.
...Weir just looks like a feral cat deciding whether or not to step away until the racket stops, but. It's probably fine?]
Prize. [He says blandly, at least once all the noise recedes. Distrusting as he is, he's slow to reach for one, examining it dubiously, before opening up the little sealable bag and unearthing...
Weir makes a face. It's sticky? It's wiggly? He pulls it up by its string, the "hand" part of it hanging down uselessly.]
[Idly, he gives it a flick with his wrist, not knowing exactly how springing the sticky hand is. And boy, it sure is. It flings outward and sticks right... on Gebura's cheek with a wet little slap.
Assuming she doesn't swat it away in time, of course.]
But she does startle a bit, eyes flicking down to the sticky THING on her face before she gives him a very displeased Look and reaches up to peel it off. ]
Not worth the effort of having to earn it, at least.
Even Weir is not immune to amusement when something becomes so ridiculous it loop back around into being so absurd it's a little funny. Watching her slowly peel off the hand from her face qualifies.
...He swings it at her again, though not necessarily aimed at her face this time.]
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[For this, apparently, there's a little cup of darts set to the side, and Weir draws closer to the booth to pick it up and examine them. There's one for Gebura, too, but she can examine hers when it's her turn.]
You say you're good with a sword, but how's your aim?
[At a distance, look at all the balloons waiting to be popped! Surely they will not be covered in glitter should Weir meet his target, though he's feeling the odd plastic of the dart first, turning it over in his fingers.]
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But I've gotten more experience with different kinds of weapons lately, so I could probably manage.
[ It works out. Sure hope those balloons aren't filled with glitter, though! ]
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[He says, idly and lowly as he turns the dart over in his fingers once more, then lifts it up properly like one would before tossing it at a target.]
Guns, I mean. We-
[And then, with an easy throw, he sends the dart flying. It hits its target, popping one of the balloon directly in the center, and-
It pops and sprays glitter in a burst, gold and silver and oh-so-sparkly, wafting their way suddenly and without warning. Whatever Weir was going to say next, it's cut off as he tries to take a step away from the sparkling sheen and bumps into Gebura instead. What the fuck!]
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Gebura jerks back instinctively but no, the glitter cloud is wafting their way and no matter what, they're gonna get coated in it.
Wow. ]
You can't be serious.
[ Flatly. She looks like she was born with golden eyelids. ]
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Well, at least she's suffering the same fate as him.]
This is inane. Still want to satiate this curiosity of yours?
[Her turn to throw a dart at this VERY CURSED GAME if so desired.]
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[ Wow. ]
I'd recommend backing up, though.
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Stubborn, aren't you.
[Well, he's backing up a few feet, glitter shimmering off his form as he does. Gods, he going to have to bathe after this outing.]
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And it is not, apparently, because the balloon pops and it's unnaturally loud and has a weird sort of echo to it, but there's no glitter.
Also Weir, you should always bathe after an outing. Ya nasty. ]
Huh. Maybe should have guessed it'd be more like testing your luck.
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...Except she doesn't, and he holds his tongue for once in his life.]
What, then? I'm cursed with bad luck? Such as it is.
[NOTHING NEW THERE. He glances at the rules beside them, posted on the wall, stating that if they pop three balloons, they-]
Win yourself a prize with two more.
[Yes, it's technically his turn. But if she wants to risk more glitter, she is more than welcome to have at it.]
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[ Aww, is Weir afraid of getting doused with more sparkles? ]
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Not looking forward to getting covered in more... shine.
[A beat.]
But of course I haven't given up. Not like those targets are far away enough to be difficult to hit.
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[ As she tosses another dart with no small amount of force.
This one does spit out a ton of glitter. Gebura is going to be sparkly for days after this. ]
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But not the majority. Gebura takes this hit, mostly.]
Gods.
[WHY THIS.]
Is this supposed to come off at some point?
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[ She does kind of shake out her ponytail and some of it does gracefully float to the ground, though so much more of it remains in her hair. Great. Truly ideal. ]
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Fine, then let me go. Might as well finish what we've started; can hardly get any messier than this.
[One tempts fate with such words.
But Weir throws his dart, aiming to pop his second balloon. Hilariously, the dart throws... just barely wide of its target, landing sticking in the wall beside it.]
Shit.
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[ Just saying, Sharp Shooter. ]
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I was distracted. Do you blame me?
[Even he misses!! Sometimes!!!]
Let me go again, then. [He's already fishing a dart out of his cup, damnable things.]
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[ Well, maybe she does blame him. Good-naturedly, though. ]
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So, Weir throws his dart. It hits a balloon, and the popping noise resounds loudly.]
There, see.
[See what, Weir? That you have decent aim? Good for you. Anyway, he won't even ask to switch turns again. He just grabs another dart and repeats the task, with the same flick of the wrist, and another one goes pop!
Lights flash. A little ringing noise of success emanates from the booth, and the "prize" shelf nearby lights up, hereby illuminating...
A row of sticky hands in little plastic baggies. You know, so they remain sticky until they're opened up.
...Weir just looks like a feral cat deciding whether or not to step away until the racket stops, but. It's probably fine?]
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Well. Go get your...
... Prize.
[ Amazing. Think of the destruction he can cause with a sticky hand!
What have they learned from this, exactly? Absolutely nothing. ]
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Weir makes a face. It's sticky? It's wiggly? He pulls it up by its string, the "hand" part of it hanging down uselessly.]
What is this supposed to be.
[help he's just a ye olde?]
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[ not like she knows any more than he does!! ]
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If this is a toy, it's not a very impressive one.
[Idly, he gives it a flick with his wrist, not knowing exactly how springing the sticky hand is. And boy, it sure is. It flings outward and sticks right... on Gebura's cheek with a wet little slap.
Assuming she doesn't swat it away in time, of course.]
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But she does startle a bit, eyes flicking down to the sticky THING on her face before she gives him a very displeased Look and reaches up to peel it off. ]
Not worth the effort of having to earn it, at least.
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Even Weir is not immune to amusement when something becomes so ridiculous it loop back around into being so absurd it's a little funny. Watching her slowly peel off the hand from her face qualifies.
...He swings it at her again, though not necessarily aimed at her face this time.]
What, you don't want your own?
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