OOC: (( oH GOD I NEED TO AND WANT TO REPLY BUT I CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING TO WRITE
(( So, I am working on replies. So far I owe
In all actuality, some of these are already done and I’m just sitting on them. It’s a really bad habit of mine.
But, I want you to know that I’m working on these. I promise I’ll get them out soon. ))
The Midnight Planétarium watch was a collaboration between Van Cleef & Arpels and Christiaan van der Klaauw. The watch is made of 396 separate parts and features the six closest planets orbiting the sun in real time (Uranus and Neptune were left out because you probably won’t live long enough to see either one complete a full orbit).
OOC: (( *flops around ineffectively* wow i am so sorry for stuff like pauses and shit ))
Half-Pint was running for too long.
His legs began to ache more and more, his muscles struggling to carry him forward any further. With each step, he could feel his hearts pounding harder and harder. He didn’t dare steal a glance of his chaser, for fear of getting pounced on in his moment of hesitation.
His could hear his instincts screaming at him, telling him exactly the way he could end this quickly. Their non-existent voice whispering to him to just end this idiotic chase. Irritated and running out of breath, the little man draws his pistol and spins around.
"Enough of this!" he yells, an audible growl permeating his words. "This is asinine. Just leave me alone!" He had no intentions of hurting the stranger, but his finger was slowly curling around the trigger. "I don’t know who you’re working for, but if you intend to leave here unharmed, I suggest you walk away now."
This is what you get for trying to help out. You had seen something fall out of some guy’s pocket but by the time you picked it up, he was already some distance away. You tried to call out, but he didn’t hear you, so you started after him, figuring this could be your good deed for the day. However, you ran into a snag when he started running away from you. He was running pretty damn fast too, especially for a guy not wearing running gear. Fortunately, you’re pretty damn fast yourself and you started to give chase.
Though, in hindsight, that was pretty fucking stupid of you. This realization comes when he turns around and you find a gun pointed at your face. “Woah, hey, bro. Chill. Chill.” You slowly raise your hands, spreading the empty one so he can see you’re not hiding anything and opening the other as much as you can without dropping the thing. “I didn’t know you were in the zone or whatever. You just dropped this and I thought I’d be a good samaritan and try to help out. But, uh, it looks like you’re still busy with your morning jog and I’m not a guy to interrupt a dude’s exercise routine, though I might suggest taking it easy. Running yourself out completely isn’t good for your body. But, that’s totally up for you to decide! I don’t want to tell you how to run your life. Or how to live your run, ha, um, I’m not working for anyone, I’m actually self employed but that’s not important. So I’ll just go now. See? Walking away. I’ll just set this thing down first so you can take it.” You start bending your knees, eyes never leaving the man and his pistol. Damn, this is what happens when you try to help people. As soon as this thing is out of your hand, you’re flashstepping the heck out of here.
‘…wow. I mean, seriously, wow.’
The little man was more than taken aback by the stranger before him. In all honesty, during the time the two had spent running, his mind had dreamt up all manner of monster to substitute for a simple helpful hand.
’I mean seriously! How the fuck could you think that it was some sort of demon chasing you?!’
Half-Pint slowly shook his head, trying both to end the pulse of his hearts from echoing in his head and to silence the commotion of his rogue thoughts. He nodded his head in a painfully methodical motion, trying his best to listen to the samaritan. “U-Uhm,” he said quietly, trying his best not to interrupt and seem rude. Although, the situation may be a bit forgone of good first impressions. “Come on, man, you gotta salvage this.” he whispered under his breath.
"I-It’s kind of you to be, uhm….mindful of my physical wellbeing." he says, hanging his head sheepishly. Trying to put on a safe expression, he extends his pistol outward and faces it to the side. With a flick of his finger, the magazine plops into the ground with a tiny *CLICK CLACK*. "Hey, l-look!" he says louder this time, but no less shamefully.
He pulls the slide back, popping the bullet out of the chamber and carefully bends down to unceremoniously toss the pistol aside. “N-No more gun. Gun gone.” Despite his previous animosity, he hoped this would serve as a sort-of olive branch. He slowly stood up and raised his hands up. “…I really messed this up. First impressions were really never my forte, but this is unprecedented.” He tried to laugh a bit but could only wheeze; the burning in his chest showing its familiar face. “I would try to apologize, but this far too egregious of a fuck up on my end for a simple apology to bandage it.”