Mall Fight RP: (CLOSED) (FINISHED)

[Paddy the Second]

"I bet you do." I find one.

 

[MinimanZombie]

"Sure you do Salt. You and your noodle arms."

 

[Saltarius]

"Hey, we're both engineers. Sorta. Well, I was."

 

[Paddy the Second]

"Good times."

 

[Saltarius]

"Before Tony fucking Stark tried to murder us."

 

[MinimanZombie]

"I suppose you do sweat a lot..."

 

[Paddy the Second]

"Good times."

 

[RaNDM G]

You flick on the lights.

"Well Gentlemen, looks like we've found us a few snoops."

[sub][sub]captcha: murphy's law[/sub][/sub]

 

[Saltarius]

"My perspiration is under control dickweed."

 

[Paddy the Second]

I point my gun at the gangsters. "Where's the door."

 

[MinimanZombie]

"Oh. My. God! Are you guys like, old american Gangsters?"

 

[Saltarius]

I point my gun at what I'm fairly certain are the gangsters.

"What the hot one said. I mean-fuck."

 

[Sigma Castell]

I hand Salt a towel, and turn to the men in trench coats.
"Waaaaa? Snooping? Us? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHnooooooooooo we're your pedicure team. You did book an appointment, right?"

 

[RaNDM G]

"Old Ameri- Can you believe this guy? You think we're playing a game, that's cute."

The short one kicks the gun out of Paddy's hand before kicking him in the shin.

"You'll get your door. After you spill why you stuffed our associate in a dumpster!"

 

[Saltarius]

"Your associate didn't happen to be some drug runners, did they?"

 

[MinimanZombie]

"Do any of you have instrument cases with Tommy Guns inside?"

 

[Sigma Castell]

I take out my nail polish and start polishing one of the gangsters hands.

 

[Paddy the Second]

"Associate?" I ask, catching my gun as it falls. "Which associate would that be?"

 

[Saltarius]

"...Sig, the fuck is with this towel?"

 

[RaNDM G]

"Your associate didn't happen to be some drug runners, did they?"

"Ugh, no."

"Do any of you have instrument cases with Tommy Guns inside?"

"No!"

I take out my nail polish and start polishing one of the gangsters hands.

"Gah, stop with the hand job buddy!"

"Associate?" I ask, catching my gun as it falls. "Which associate would that be?"

Is what you would do, if you weren't doubled over and clutching your leg.

"You didn't answer my question."