1 -- if they sent the prison bill to the guy in prison it would never get paid
[Waking up had been . . . uneventful, to say the least. His eyes opened as slowly as ever, he wanted to get out of bed just as much as he ever did - not a whole hell of a lot, generally - but when he finally focuses on his surroundings, his head pops right off that pillow.
A pillow much less comfortable than his own at home. If anything, that was one of the real crimes here.
A least, he'll think that way until he spots the piece of paper. After staring at it blearily for a bit wondering what it could be, he'll stretch out his hand and pluck it up, staring at it with with all the intensity of a dead-fish.
He'll keep staring at it. What was this? Is this what he thought it was? What exactly was he paying for? His hand shakes a little in panic. Sure, he'd owed people money but . . . this amount?
And. . .1,000,000 . . . what exactly? 1,000,000 yen, or maybe dollars, 1,000,000 gold, 1,000,000 sticks of gum, 1,000,000 hours of training in the Room of Spirit and Time, 1,000,000 souls of magical girls. . . .
So. . . 1,000,000 what?
He'll crumple up the paper, giving a groan of frustration as he tosses it in the direction of the door, rolling over and burying himself in his blankets. It'll be awhile before he's up. Since he has to pay for this bed and all.
. . . well, where the hell was he anyway? ]
2 -- don't go into a cantina if you owe somebody money
[After some time in bed, and exploring his living space, he'd managed to make it out to the bar area. He figured he could spend some more time exploring later since he was more than happy to see some cake and something to drink. He'll take a glass of champagne, and then he'll put no less than 3 pieces of cake on his plate, moseying over to where he can sit down by himself. Despite the situation, the look on his face is one of pure happiness as he shoves a big bite of cake into his mouth. Sweet cake, sweet sugar. It would never betray hi--
BUT GASP. Unfortunately though, when you gasp with your mouth full, it just leads to choking. Gintoki starts to choke, coughing like he's trying to expel his soul from his body.
Somebody try the Heimlich.]
3 -- there's nothing like the bond between a man and his dog sweets
[Once he's recovered, he's gonna sit and stew. Every so often, he'll look at the cake on his plate, eyes a little more hopeful than before as he reaches . . . hesitates . . . reaches again. . . stills his hand . . . no . . . but again . . . reaches. . . that wistful, nostalgic expression on his face . . . and he snatches a bit of the cake again. He'll look hard at it, willing it back into it's original, innocent, heavenly sweet form before swiftly putting it into his mouth.
Only to shudder, teeth clenched with a quietly pained whine, before hanging his head. It still tasted like --
-- like natto.
Yeah, he's gonna do that a few times. Someone might want to take the cake away from him, or maybe just watch for their own personal amusement.
After awhile though, he'll walk up to where the food is, set a hand on whatever tray or plate the cake was on, and simply slide it onto the floor, watching that moist and delicious looking nightmare fall apart with a few solemn words.]
There, there. I've put us both out of misery. I didn't want it to end this way. . . I saw a long, bright, glittering future for us both, in that house by the lake I know you dreamed about . . .
no subject
[Waking up had been . . . uneventful, to say the least. His eyes opened as slowly as ever, he wanted to get out of bed just as much as he ever did - not a whole hell of a lot, generally - but when he finally focuses on his surroundings, his head pops right off that pillow.
A pillow much less comfortable than his own at home. If anything, that was one of the real crimes here.
A least, he'll think that way until he spots the piece of paper. After staring at it blearily for a bit wondering what it could be, he'll stretch out his hand and pluck it up, staring at it with with all the intensity of a dead-fish.
He'll keep staring at it. What was this? Is this what he thought it was? What exactly was he paying for? His hand shakes a little in panic. Sure, he'd owed people money but . . . this amount?
And. . .1,000,000 . . . what exactly? 1,000,000 yen, or maybe dollars, 1,000,000 gold, 1,000,000 sticks of gum, 1,000,000 hours of training in the Room of Spirit and Time, 1,000,000 souls of magical girls. . . .
So. . . 1,000,000 what?
He'll crumple up the paper, giving a groan of frustration as he tosses it in the direction of the door, rolling over and burying himself in his blankets. It'll be awhile before he's up. Since he has to pay for this bed and all.
. . . well, where the hell was he anyway? ]
2 -- don't go into a cantina if you owe somebody money
[After some time in bed, and exploring his living space, he'd managed to make it out to the bar area. He figured he could spend some more time exploring later since he was more than happy to see some cake and something to drink. He'll take a glass of champagne, and then he'll put no less than 3 pieces of cake on his plate, moseying over to where he can sit down by himself. Despite the situation, the look on his face is one of pure happiness as he shoves a big bite of cake into his mouth. Sweet cake, sweet sugar. It would never betray hi--
BUT GASP. Unfortunately though, when you gasp with your mouth full, it just leads to choking. Gintoki starts to choke, coughing like he's trying to expel his soul from his body.
Somebody try the Heimlich.]
3 -- there's nothing like the bond between a man and his
dogsweets[Once he's recovered, he's gonna sit and stew. Every so often, he'll look at the cake on his plate, eyes a little more hopeful than before as he reaches . . . hesitates . . . reaches again. . . stills his hand . . . no . . . but again . . . reaches. . . that wistful, nostalgic expression on his face . . . and he snatches a bit of the cake again. He'll look hard at it, willing it back into it's original, innocent, heavenly sweet form before swiftly putting it into his mouth.
Only to shudder, teeth clenched with a quietly pained whine, before hanging his head. It still tasted like --
-- like natto.
Yeah, he's gonna do that a few times. Someone might want to take the cake away from him, or maybe just watch for their own personal amusement.
After awhile though, he'll walk up to where the food is, set a hand on whatever tray or plate the cake was on, and simply slide it onto the floor, watching that moist and delicious looking nightmare fall apart with a few solemn words.]
There, there. I've put us both out of misery. I didn't want it to end this way. . . I saw a long, bright, glittering future for us both, in that house by the lake I know you dreamed about . . .
[Are there tears in his eyes? Calm down, buddy.]