 Ama!Nabs IS NAMED MINHO & Is SO Black Panther Right Now
As he stepped into the room, the light flickered on and off ominously setting the mood to the plight about to commence. The desks, made of compressed wood were old, rotting in places, and some missing sharp corners where an irritated wand (or two) had been aimed at recklessly to vent off steam. As if to add offense to being disgraced with such inferior working items, they were closely set next to each other, leaving enough room for someone to squirm sideways between them to reach different areas of the diminutive working room.
Turning to his side, Ian squeezed between a desk using a text on plants to support one lost leg and another, glowering at the quavering muggle item in the distance.
Conveniently set right next to his assigned desk was the hostile golf bag. The bag that reminded Hoshino every working day how far from grace he had fallen. Pulling out his wand, he was ready to aim at it's ugly white face, however; despite all the qualities and skills Ian Hoshino had been graced with upon birth limb coordination was not one of them.
The tip of one of his onyx Lauke dress shoes collided with a rogue book, also improperly used as support. Unwillingly, Ian fell towards the mocking ground.
It was ugly.
Not to mention noisy. From his nameless coworker's desk he managed to pull down over his head a set of manila folders, perhaps two stacks of what seemed useless forms and mock advertising pamphlets waiting to be approved. Looking up from the mistreated wood floor, Ian's dark eyes took in the golf's back rapid shivering, its own form of amused tittering, only to be outdone by the fact that the only natural light that poured into the room was falling on "him", casting the bag in a shower of jeering luminescence.
Ashamed, angry and sore from the fall, Ian opened his mouth to let out a melodious string of obscenities in both French and Spanish, having inherited his Mother's temperament. Reaching out thoughtlessly, he reached out to slap the golf bag only to have half of his palm in his inexplicably dangerous mouth's possession.
Whoever the idiot who thought of placing a biting jynx on the thing should live a life without offspring and premature balding.
After fighting for a good few minutes with the golf bag, Ian had managed to mutter a paralyzing spell. He stood up clumsily, banging his knee on the desk. Nursing a red hand against his chest, Hoshino allowed his dark brows to furrow with curiosity.
Outside he could hear the soft deadly murmurs of That Woman. In reply came a juvenile and joyful voice belonging to a naive man it seemed. Ian could only scoff in disbelief. Nearly settling himself in a crooked chair, the man of mixed heritage stood still, rejoicing in the sudden electicity the air was buzzing in.
With the click-clacking sound of what could only be Mona's favorite boots came oozing the scent of menace, calling for him.
And what else could he do but obey? Standing up, still nursing his hand, he opened the door gracefully and stepped out.
Last edited by Ama; 02-07-2009 at 04:01 AM.
|