[The commotion is what had drawn Baptiste near in the first place. The squawking paired with the sound of ruffled feathers promised him the perfect set-up to reassert just what link of the food chain he intended to be on in this place. Yet this place provides yet another surprise as a set of feathers is shoved into his hand. Baptiste blinks, turning to get a glimpse of the man who shoved stolen goods (he could only assume) off on him. Yet the thundering of footfall promises him no time to waist. So instead, he slips the feathers into the side of his little bathing bottoms as he turns around and opens up the bottle of water at his side.
He takes a swig of it as the lifeguards grow ever closer before he produces a lighter in his other hand. A flick of the wrist and an honest-to-god wink come together before Baptiste flicks open the cap to the lighter and grinds the wheel. Just as sparks begin to jump, Baptise spits his 'water' through it to reveal that the water bottle at his side is not water by any stretch of the imagination. Instead this clear liquid explodes into a ball of fire before these gulls, promising some singed down for their troubles.]
These are mine. Show's over folks. But, we could start a new one if you'd like to tango.
[Baptiste voice carries the natural projection and charisma of a showman. While he smiles, there is a glint in his eyes as he prepares a toast of flammable liquid again. The metallic click of the lighter's cap punctuates each unspoken word his manic eyes promise.
So is it really a surprise when a few missing feathers are begrudgingly regarded as a non-issue?
The firebreather offers the lifeguards a lopsided smile as they begin to disperse to return to more pressing matters such as a Group Caw - whatever that is. Baptiste works to twist the cap back onto his water bottle, eyes searching for the little sneak-thief that had shoved these feathers and the gull's ire onto him. If his eyes don't immediately catch someone, he'll whistle in hopes to attract the culprit back to the scene.]
III
He takes a swig of it as the lifeguards grow ever closer before he produces a lighter in his other hand. A flick of the wrist and an honest-to-god wink come together before Baptiste flicks open the cap to the lighter and grinds the wheel. Just as sparks begin to jump, Baptise spits his 'water' through it to reveal that the water bottle at his side is not water by any stretch of the imagination. Instead this clear liquid explodes into a ball of fire before these gulls, promising some singed down for their troubles.]
These are mine. Show's over folks. But, we could start a new one if you'd like to tango.
[Baptiste voice carries the natural projection and charisma of a showman. While he smiles, there is a glint in his eyes as he prepares a toast of flammable liquid again. The metallic click of the lighter's cap punctuates each unspoken word his manic eyes promise.
So is it really a surprise when a few missing feathers are begrudgingly regarded as a non-issue?
The firebreather offers the lifeguards a lopsided smile as they begin to disperse to return to more pressing matters such as a Group Caw - whatever that is. Baptiste works to twist the cap back onto his water bottle, eyes searching for the little sneak-thief that had shoved these feathers and the gull's ire onto him. If his eyes don't immediately catch someone, he'll whistle in hopes to attract the culprit back to the scene.]