Out of Coffee: Right, its apparent that nobody has anything to do right now, sooo...
BIC:
Ophelia frowned. It seemed that she had no need for her weapon, which was dissapointing; she absolutely loved showing it off. She stowed it against her belt, grumbling something under her breath. Then, by a stroke of fate, she looked over at the tables.
The table that had appeared to be deserted.
The table where Mola was standing, staring, his mouth forming a perfect 'o'.
All of Ophelia's anger came boiling over like a broken floodgate. Her hands tightened in to small, lethal fists, and her left eyelid twitched slightly.
"MOLA!" she roared like an angry scrab. "HOLD STILL SO I CAN KILL YOU!!"
Mola stiffened, eyes wide, pupils like pinpricks. "No no no no NO!" He screamed as Ophelia mowed past the rude vykker (Krik) and pinned Mola to the floor, crushing him with her bodyweight. They grappled in a tumbling mass, Mola shrieking "DON'T KILL ME!" and Ophelia cursing "WHAT IS YOUR @&#*ING PROBLEM?!"
Ophelia reached up and whipped a tablecloth off of a table. Without hesitation she stuffed it in her poor victim's mouth, gagging him. Then, with one swift motion, she unstrapped her belt, flexed it painfully tight, and wrung it around Mola's hands so tightly that they turned purple. She stood up off the floor, brushing her shoulders all lady-like.
"Carma." Ophelia said simply. Mola sat up, his mouth still gagged, his hands still tied, tears streaming like waterfalls down his flushed little face. Ophelia pouted. "You brought it on yourself," she said as though flirting with him, patting him on the head. Mola made frenzied noises as though trying to speak, but his voice was muffled with the tablecloth.
---
Skelter watched on with interest. She frowned. She'd have to make a mental note to try that sometime.
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