Karkat Vantas stands in front of the office door, tilting back slightly onto the heels of his oxfords. Some kind of muffled ragtime ditty comes from inside. “Always with the old tunes,” Vantas ponders briefly.
“Jade Harley, P.I.” is printed on the door in professional, impartial black block letters. The writing underneath never strikes Vantas as odd, though – in a curly black script underneath is written “The Witch of Space.” It’s almost like a signature, pristine and perfect.
“Focussss” slides out of his suddenly gritted teeth. He fingers the rim of his fedora, as if he’s making sure it hasn’t vanished, takes a step forward, and knocks directly on the glass.
“Come in!” a jaunty voice calls back.
Vantas steps inside, expression flat but eyes darting everywhere. Vantas had seen a few offices in his day, but this one was, well, “different” is a good word for it. He’s seen it many times, but he always worries that one day it’s going to be completely different and throw him off. Office staples like a desk, chairs, and bookcases are accounted for, but The Witch of Space likes to make sure you know her skillset. Tiny planetoids hover near the ceiling, and Vantas hopes those don’t have actual inhabitants. The room is full of afternoon sunshine despite the late hour, and there doesn’t seem to be a source. The phonograph producing the music sits in the corner farthest from the door, within Harley’s reach.
Harley herself sits at the desk, hands in her lap, soaking in the music. Her dark hair stands in stark contrast to the white dog ears that seem to follow the playing music. Her cloche hat sits on the desk and not her head, but it certainly matches her dress – both are glossy and dark and covered in miniscule green sparks.
“Evening, Karkat! How are you doing?” Harley asks, grinning.
"Fine." Vantas shrugs. “Question: you remember Jack Noir, right?”
Harley blanches. “Of course I do. He owns the Derse nightclub, right? …Tried to kill me, right? He couldn’t go through with it for some reason.”
“That’s the guy,” Karkat smirks. His hand goes to his pocket and pulls out a pair of shades. They’re blood-stained. “Or, that was the guy.”
“Are you telling me you killed him?”
“Of course I killed him. Isn’t that the Knight of Blood’s job? It sounds like my job anyway.” Vantas slumps into one of the chairs facing the desk. “I hate the whole ‘damsel in distress’ concept, so I took care of it for you. We gotta look out for each other in this line of work, right?”
Harley is a bit solemn. “I – I’ve been afraid,” she admits, starting to chuckle. “Shouldn’t a Witch be able to take care of things herself? Thank you, good sir Knight,” Harley beams.
“No big deal.” Vantas shrugs, but then he smiles. “Also: drinks and dinner tonight? That’s the other reason I came over.”
Harley beams even brighter than before. “Is that a date? Of course, good sir Knight.”
((Ahhh I'm sorry I don't know what I'm doing and I was a bit subtle with the fairy tale theme! XD I hope it's okay!))
FILL: TEAM DISCIPLE♥SUFFERER
“Jade Harley, P.I.” is printed on the door in professional, impartial black block letters. The writing underneath never strikes Vantas as odd, though – in a curly black script underneath is written “The Witch of Space.” It’s almost like a signature, pristine and perfect.
“Focussss” slides out of his suddenly gritted teeth. He fingers the rim of his fedora, as if he’s making sure it hasn’t vanished, takes a step forward, and knocks directly on the glass.
“Come in!” a jaunty voice calls back.
Vantas steps inside, expression flat but eyes darting everywhere. Vantas had seen a few offices in his day, but this one was, well, “different” is a good word for it. He’s seen it many times, but he always worries that one day it’s going to be completely different and throw him off. Office staples like a desk, chairs, and bookcases are accounted for, but The Witch of Space likes to make sure you know her skillset. Tiny planetoids hover near the ceiling, and Vantas hopes those don’t have actual inhabitants. The room is full of afternoon sunshine despite the late hour, and there doesn’t seem to be a source. The phonograph producing the music sits in the corner farthest from the door, within Harley’s reach.
Harley herself sits at the desk, hands in her lap, soaking in the music. Her dark hair stands in stark contrast to the white dog ears that seem to follow the playing music. Her cloche hat sits on the desk and not her head, but it certainly matches her dress – both are glossy and dark and covered in miniscule green sparks.
“Evening, Karkat! How are you doing?” Harley asks, grinning.
"Fine." Vantas shrugs. “Question: you remember Jack Noir, right?”
Harley blanches. “Of course I do. He owns the Derse nightclub, right? …Tried to kill me, right? He couldn’t go through with it for some reason.”
“That’s the guy,” Karkat smirks. His hand goes to his pocket and pulls out a pair of shades. They’re blood-stained. “Or, that was the guy.”
“Are you telling me you killed him?”
“Of course I killed him. Isn’t that the Knight of Blood’s job? It sounds like my job anyway.” Vantas slumps into one of the chairs facing the desk. “I hate the whole ‘damsel in distress’ concept, so I took care of it for you. We gotta look out for each other in this line of work, right?”
Harley is a bit solemn. “I – I’ve been afraid,” she admits, starting to chuckle. “Shouldn’t a Witch be able to take care of things herself? Thank you, good sir Knight,” Harley beams.
“No big deal.” Vantas shrugs, but then he smiles. “Also: drinks and dinner tonight? That’s the other reason I came over.”
Harley beams even brighter than before. “Is that a date? Of course, good sir Knight.”
((Ahhh I'm sorry I don't know what I'm doing and I was a bit subtle with the fairy tale theme! XD I hope it's okay!))