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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Oct 17, 2016 13:30:20 GMT -5
The party had clearly reached critical mass for its space before its collapse. The stampede of high heels and winklepickers was pointed in the opposite direction, but Oswald made his way stubbornly against the tide. His leg still pained him, and his stride still wasn't what it was, but along the line he'd acquired a silver foiled cane that would make for a little insurance in the event of trouble. Somebody had to be in charge of this circus. Somebody with no idea of how to throw a party.
If you were looking for filthy rich vampires, they weren't hard to find. He hadn't even needed to brazen his way inside the Krolock compound, which he had been prepared to do. The suit he was wearing still needed to be paid for, which made tonight's surveillance even more pressing. It had seemed like a necessary acquisition at the time, but judging from how some of the presumably-human guests were attired, he shouldn't have bothered. Oswald looked thin, neat, and determined.
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Post by Graf von Krolock on Oct 17, 2016 13:55:15 GMT -5
When the crowd seemed to have finally dispersed, the Graf von Krolock was left alone for a moment in the empty entry hall, raised shoulders heaving with entirely unnecessary breath.
"Herbert!" he called.
There was no response. He tried it again.
"Herbert!"
Silence. Krolock turned away with a bitter snarl.
"Er wird zurückkommen. Er wird zurückkommen-"
As he passed the light switches to the entryway, he pawed them down with one stretched-out hand and seized the lit candelabrum he'd set down by the door a few hours earlier, prepared to climb back upstairs and luxuriate in his misery.
Two steps up, however, he paused and sniffed the air suspiciously.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Oct 17, 2016 14:00:03 GMT -5
Out of some buried ancestral instinct, Oswald had his back to the wall, coiled with eager albeit nervous energy.
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Post by Graf von Krolock on Oct 17, 2016 14:10:38 GMT -5
To say that Krolock rounded on him, or stalked toward him or crept up on him or anything that implied normal, jointed movement would have been at least somewhat reassuring, but unfortunately also inaccurate. What seemed to occur was the man collapsing into a greyish blur with a fiery golden streak of a single limb that swooped instantaneously across the room and reformed into something with the rough outline of a human being, though the bared teeth rather disputed that impression, that clutched the intruder by the collar with his free hand and pressed him a good six inches up the wall in the process.
"I told you, the party is over-"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Oct 17, 2016 14:25:17 GMT -5
All 110-some pounds of Oswald made the trip upward, limp as a ragdoll. The cane went clattering away.
"I know, sir, excuse me, I'm aware--"
He considered whether clarifying that he wasn't invited in the first place would make this easier for him, or harder.
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Post by Graf von Krolock on Oct 17, 2016 14:32:15 GMT -5
"You are certainly not acting like it," Krolock snarled in return, shoving him back unnecessarily. He was already pressed against the wall, so it was more like a sudden burst of pressure to the collarbone, and about as pleasant as being sandbagged.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Oct 17, 2016 14:41:42 GMT -5
He couldn't talk without wheezing, and some already precariously healing internal structures were rapidly losing structural integrity, but at least this confirmed that his meal ticket had arrived.
"It's so good to finally meet you, sir, I believe we share a mutual friend--"
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Post by Graf von Krolock on Oct 17, 2016 14:43:51 GMT -5
"I have no friends," Johannes said, and dropped him.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Oct 17, 2016 14:59:41 GMT -5
Oswald struggled upright, looking pained and pointy.
"An enemy, then."
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Post by Graf von Krolock on Oct 17, 2016 15:14:19 GMT -5
"You underestimate my power of making enemies."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Oct 17, 2016 15:26:39 GMT -5
He gave an unpleasant chuckle.
"Really?"
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Post by Graf von Krolock on Oct 17, 2016 16:01:26 GMT -5
"What are you playing at?"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Oct 17, 2016 21:39:37 GMT -5
"Nothing, nothing. You know, I've always lived to serve--"
Lucky for him it was his collar and not his throat, though the sartorial damage still stood to be assessed; nevertheless there was a sharp band of pain that had him rasping and swallowing for a few moments, though mercifully no blood. Mercifully no blood. This was one of the old ones, still stinking like the Old World. Mustache Petes with fangs. Real assholes.
"--and I thought, why not make a new friend? Chip away at a couple of those enemies--"
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Post by Graf von Krolock on Oct 18, 2016 8:09:13 GMT -5
"You have an impressive talent of saying very little while speaking a great deal."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Oct 18, 2016 8:28:17 GMT -5
Oswald nodded meekly.
"You wouldn't hurt a cripple, would you?"
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