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<blockquote data-quote="Shayuri" data-source="post: 6481471" data-attributes="member: 4936">There was a 'bonk' sound from farther down the table as an unkept mop of red and...purple?...hair hit the hard wood surface. She shook her hands, rattling the chains of the manacles, then looked up. Yep, short red hair, with her bangs dyed purple. Blue eyes with bags that implied poor sleep. Freckled cheeks. She looked young; a teenager, or not long past that. She had a skinny, lanky build with her prison jumpsuit hanging baggy on her that made it a little hard to tell for sure.&quot;God, would you just...SHUT...&quot; She squinched her eyes for a second, then opened them to glare at Cyrill and Beatrice. &quot;Okay. OKAY. First of all, it's DEATH Otter. L'otter de MORT. This is not DIFFICULT. Second, DURR it's illegal! Look, we're the porridge, okay? Minimum security is full of LOSERS who don't know what they're doing. Max is full of psychopaths. WE are the *EFFING PORRIDGE.&quot;She looked back at Beatrice. &quot;Of course it's bullcrap, right? Half sentence? House arrest? Can't do that without the courts. Appeals. Lawyers. None of that on the table. Documents OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. She's Lectering us. Make an offer, we do the job, yank the hand back...what are we going to do?&quot;Death Otter shrugged. &quot;Cry probably.&quot; She yawned and halfheartedly tugged at her manacles, pulling the chains taut against the bar, apparently having lost interest in the offer entirely.Perception [roll0]* - Out of deference to Enworld's policies on language, please fill in these euphemisms with the contextually-appropriate profanity. D0 is pretty foul of mouth. <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile&nbsp; &nbsp; :)"&nbsp; data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /></blockquote>

[QUOTE="Shayuri, post: 6481471, member: 4936"] There was a 'bonk' sound from farther down the table as an unkept mop of red and...purple?...hair hit the hard wood surface. She shook her hands, rattling the chains of the manacles, then looked up. Yep, short red hair, with her bangs dyed purple. Blue eyes with bags that implied poor sleep. Freckled cheeks. She looked young; a teenager, or not long past that. She had a skinny, lanky build with her prison jumpsuit hanging baggy on her that made it a little hard to tell for sure. "God, would you just...SHUT..." She squinched her eyes for a second, then opened them to glare at Cyrill and Beatrice. "Okay. OKAY. First of all, it's DEATH Otter. L'otter de MORT. This is not DIFFICULT. Second, DURR it's illegal! Look, we're the porridge, okay? Minimum security is full of LOSERS who don't know what they're doing. Max is full of psychopaths. WE are the *EFFING PORRIDGE." She looked back at Beatrice. "Of course it's bullcrap, right? Half sentence? House arrest? Can't do that without the courts. Appeals. Lawyers. None of that on the table. Documents OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. She's Lectering us. Make an offer, we do the job, yank the hand back...what are we going to do?" Death Otter shrugged. "Cry probably." She yawned and halfheartedly tugged at her manacles, pulling the chains taut against the bar, apparently having lost interest in the offer entirely. Perception [roll0] * - Out of deference to Enworld's policies on language, please fill in these euphemisms with the contextually-appropriate profanity. D0 is pretty foul of mouth. :) [/QUOTE]

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