eiattu_pride: (i'll just sing for you)
[personal profile] eiattu_pride
It's been a really kriffing long day. One of those really fun ones where Rial is shuttled from meeting to conference to meeting with barely five minutes in between/. He thinks he shouldn't be surprised, what with everything that's been going on lately - one of the largest manufacturers of air-and-ground-craft announcing a completely unexpected bankruptcy due to lengthy embezzlement by one of their top people, an strike by public transit workers, the continuing concern over the length of time it's taking them to be able to establish a working Planetary Defense Strategy...the list goes on.

And on.

So when the chrono hits 1900 hours he finally makes it back to the apartment, passing by his parents and scooping up a sleepy Ianna first. He doesn't even bother to shower (although to be honest, he needs it), just flops down on the sofa, Ianna on his chest, and gives her a long look.

She looks back, just as solemnly.

His comm beeps, he picks it up. "Pernon. Yes. Uh-huh. No, I think Baron Chastall has the proposal, can you get in contact with him?"

He pulls a face. Ianna giggles.

"Yes. I'm sure. Well I can - mmhmm, tomorrow at 0900. Okay. Yes. Right. Yes. Thank you."

He pulls another face, this one decidedly worse. Ianna burbles in response.

"Yes. Yes. Excuse me." He ends the communication, hefts the comm for a moment, and hurls it at the door.

Which was. Um. Closed a moment ago, he's sure.

Date: 2009-02-28 05:28 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - no)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Plourr's dodging reflexes have undergone some changes over the last few years. She's no longer ducking punches.

She is still, however, ducking food hurled with vicious aim. Thus, when something comes flying at her through the open apartment door -- the instinct is to take one impossibly fast sidestep and watch it sail on by.

Something crashes behind her in the hallway.

"..."

Date: 2009-02-28 05:42 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - serious)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Is this a new way of saying hello?" Plourr says, dry as the desert, and finally comes inside. The door hisses closed behind her; she kicks off her boots with gusto, dumps an armful of datapads and sheafs of flimsi on the hallway table, and continues toward the pair on the sofa. "Because I could get behind it."

So saying, she scoops Gror the stuffed bantha off the floor and rifles him at Rial's head with deadly accuracy.

Date: 2009-02-28 05:52 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - no no no)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Gore!" Ianna shouts, making grabbyhands at 'Gore' the bantha, on the floor. "Gore!!!"

"Some day, you're going to have to learn to ask nicely," says Plourr, scooping the bantha up off the floor and passing him into her daughter's waiting arms, "and you," she thuds down on the couch beside Rial, "are going to have to learn to throw the aide instead of the comm."

She throws her arm across the back of the sofa behind Rial, and sprawls.

Ianna chews on Gror's foot, considering her mother with beady little eyes.

Date: 2009-02-28 06:04 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (any - not happy)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Fugitives from justice," Plourr says wistfully. "On the lam from the law."

(Someone has been kept very entertained by Earth "movies" while on lunch breaks at the bar, lately.)

"Ma," Ianna interjects, helpful as ever. "Maaaaaaaa!" She begins the attempt to wriggle from one parent to the other.

Date: 2009-02-28 06:13 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - er...)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Daddy," Plourr says to Ianna, getting her hands under the toddler's armpits and hauling her into her lap, "doesn't know when to quit. Can you say pain in Mama's royal ass?"

Ianna considers her for a moment, face squinched, and then she waves Gror with one hand and shouts, "Nnnnnnnnnn!"

"Close enough," says Plourr, and she balances Ianna easily, baby feet on her knees.

Date: 2009-02-28 06:27 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - fierce laughter)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
It is entirely possible that Plourr yelps a little, taken by surprise by the attempt at a grope.

It is entirely definite that she whacks his arm.

"Saying 'ass' in front of the monster is one thing; grabbing ass is something completely--"

Ianna drops the spit-covered bantha on Rial's head.

Plourr roars with laughter.

Her mother's child indeed.

Date: 2009-02-28 06:35 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - tolerant)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"You're going to teach her to goose people," Plourr points out. "At least my habits are practical."

"Ah!" Ianna yelps. "Ah, ah, ah!" She is pointing feverishly at the floor, and Plourr leans over and gently sets her down on her butt on the carpet. The baby princess dives upon the stuffed bantha, and promptly rolls over with him, several times.

Because she can.

Date: 2009-02-28 06:42 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - uhhhhhh)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
The noise that Plourr makes is entirely undignified, and something like a pitten with a hairball. She shoves his arm.

"If you ever mention your mother while starting to feel me up again, you're going to lose that hand," she threatens.

Date: 2009-02-28 06:52 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - serious)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Thank you," Plourr says, with great dignity -- and then there is the patter of small, unsteadily running feet, and familiar (maniacal) childish laughter, fading into the distance.

Or the hallway. Whatever.

The empress pats her husband on the shoulder and says, "Do something about food, would you?" With that singularly romantic request, she heaves herself up, shouts, "You'd better run!" (and hears a peal of giggles in response), and goes in search of the runaway princess.

Date: 2009-02-28 07:15 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - serious)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Plourr, for the record, makes a kick ass explosion sound effect.

The second part of the evening, anyway, is quieter, and involves less children.

(Well. Less child-aged people. Senses of humor and maturity are debatable.)

Standing in front of the bedroom mirror, Plourr takes off an earring. "She was good for your parents?"

Date: 2009-02-28 07:22 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - tolerant)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Plourr sniggers at the 'evading naptime' comment, rather more proudly than she probably ought to.

"Spaced, as always," she says, removing her other earring. "I can take her whenever your parents can't; she charmed the pants off the budgetary committee the last time she came to a hearing."

Date: 2009-02-28 07:25 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - serious)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
What do you mean probably? dies on Plourr's tongue, and she glances at him in the mirror as she efficiently pulls pins out of her hair.

"Rial," she says, in the same exact tone of voice.

Date: 2009-02-28 07:45 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - tolerant)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
She watches him in the mirror, her fingers only stilling on a pin for a split second before she returns to removing them. "Pernon," she says, setting the final pin on the dresser, shaking out her hair, and turning around.

"There are speeder wrecks more subtle than you." Her mouth has set fondly, and she crosses the room and comes into the bed on her hands and knees. "No-engine low atmosphere burn outs are more subtle than you." She's grinning, maybe even close to a laugh, when she leans over him and presses a kiss to his mouth.

Date: 2009-02-28 07:51 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - tolerant)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"I was getting to that part!"

(Pot calling the kettle impatient.)




"Yes," Plourr says, and one side of her mouth lifts as she brushes her thumb across his cheek. "Force save us all, but --

"Yeah."

Date: 2009-02-28 07:58 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - tolerant)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"One: That is the single least attractive thing you've ever said in your entire life.

"Two--" She grins at him. "I went off the control two weeks ago."

Date: 2010-03-07 06:48 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (flygirl)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Sap," Plourr says, and she flops on top of him. (It's easy enough, given that she was still leaning over him.)

Date: 2010-03-15 03:23 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - mmmm)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"The only thing that negated the mustache," Plourr says comfortably, making no sign of moving in the slightest, "is that I knew I could eventually get rid of it."

Date: 2010-03-15 03:48 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - gonna throw you in a ditch)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Plourr lifts her head enough to shoot him a bemused, thoughtful look. "Are you calling me fat, Pernon?"

Date: 2010-03-15 04:02 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - uhhhhhh)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Plourr makes a disgusted (disgusting) noise. "What have you been reading?" she complains as she rolls onto her back beside him.

Date: 2010-03-15 04:17 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - gotta be kidding)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Ugh, Tevrahn." Plourr rolls his eyes. "I hope you confiscated his copy. He's too young for that shavit."

Tevrahn is at least 20 standard years older than her.

Date: 2010-03-15 04:41 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - obnoxious grin)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"It doesn't," Plourr agrees, and after a moment's consideration, she turns onto her side.

"Care to test the story's scientific validity?"

Her expression is filthy.

Date: 2010-03-15 04:57 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - tease)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Oh," says Plourr, leaning in, "well. If it's for the good of the planet..."



As first tries for a second baby go, it's a pretty solid effort.

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