It's raining frogs...

[the_lioness]

Humming softly under her breath, Alanna unlocks the door to her room and rubs her neck as she enters. Weapons practice always serves to lighten her mood, particularly when the combatants involved are mostly women. Dirt streaked and tired, she leans against the closed door with a weary sigh and takes a moment to relish her sense of accomplishment. What wouldn’t she give for Captain Sklaw and assorted others to witness a lesson like that? Not for the first time, she considers taking Faith to Corus and, in essence, showing her off.

She pushes back from the door with a smile and slowly disarms herself as she approaches the comfortable sitting area. Two swords are leaned lovingly against a table while she extracts five daggers from hidden sheathes and glances up at her mounted lion’s head in amusement. She really should remove Thom’s tutu from around its neck. “Evening, Roger. How are y…” Alanna trails off, tilting her head with a puzzled frown. What in Mithros’ name is that noise? “Peter?” She waits a fraction of a second. “Peter, are you here?”

No answer. The noise abates, and Alanna shrugs, gratefully stretching out on the sheepskin rug. She’s too filthy for the couch. Sighing, she shuts her eyes and relishes the feel of her back cracking.

Carrying a particularly satisfying notebook in his hands, Peter pushes at his glasses and writes furiously as he walks down the staff corridor. Typically this lack of attention might result in one walking into a wall, but thus far Peter has escaped this fate. Knowing the way to Alanna’s door by heart, he stops short of the door, opens it and leans against the doorframe as he finishes the page.

Alanna lifts her head and smiles as Peter essentially does the exact same thing she had done upon entering. She watches him uneasily, wondering whether or not she should interrupt him. He looks so intent and liable to stab her with his pen should he lose his train of thought, but she had long opted to live dangerously. “I like your glasses. Have I ever told you that?” She drops her head back to the ground and stretches her arms overhead.

Thankfully, Peter had just finished his last sentence, or his little jump of surprise would have ruined the page. He peers over the notebook and raises an eyebrow at her. “Oh?” Personally he thought they were all shades of dork, but that was just him.

“Aye.” Alanna’s eye twitches as her back cracks again. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” Peter replies. He narrows his eyes at the notebook. Deciding he’s done for the moment, he closes it with a distinctive snap. “You?” He offers her a small grin.

Alanna blinks up at him. She wonders if he realizes just how long it has been since they last saw each other. Well, long for two people sharing quarters at any rate. “I’ve been alright, I suppose. My sword lesson with Elaine went very well.” A sound reminiscent of bare feet squishing through new mud reaches her ears, and she rolls easily to a standing position. “Do you hear something?”

Peter realizes, but the fight with Valentine is going to take time to bounce back from. It will continue to affect his interactions with others for awhile, as much as he hates for that to be the case. “Sword lesson?” He grins at that. “Up for another one later? I think we’re well overdu… hear what?” He pauses, listening. “What is that?”

Alanna moves closer, studying his face with cautious eyes. He’s still skittish. It bothers her, but she understands. So is she, which is precisely why most of her time since their last talk has been divided between the bar and Thom’s room. Sighing, she shuts her eyes and tries to locate the origin of the noise. “I can’t tell if it’s coming from the bedroom or outside.” Eyes narrowed, she begins stalking the sound. Moving nearer to the outside wall, she walks into a large box and curses. “That was not there earlier.” Frowning, she lifts her head and points to the closed bathroom door. “In there. Goddess, what is going on?”

Peter’s eyebrows shoot up as he notices a few of his notebooks scattered across the floor near the box. “What the hell?” Crouching down, he begins to gather them back up. “Pages wrinkled…,” he mutters, cursing some more.

Still focused on the noise, Alanna absently pauses to run a soothing hand over his bent head. “It’s definitely coming from the bathroom. Gods, why do I get the feeling this isn’t going to end well?” She feels a bit jumpy at the realization that Lecter’s cell is just on the other side of their bathroom wall. An odd tingle races down her spine, some awareness that someone other than Peter has stood where she is standing today. Creeping closer to the bathroom door, she sniffs the air. “There’s an odd, musky odor. Stale, almost.” She pauses, pressing her ear to the cool wood door and clutching the door knob. “Yes! It’s definitely in here. It sounds like… It sounds like twilight near the stream back home. Croaking?” Her brow furrows.

“Croaking? Odor?” Peter looks up and frowns. Suddenly, it clicks and he stands quickly, one arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t open that!”

“I have to!” Determined and curious, Alanna pushes open the door.

It’s probably a very good thing that Peter does not have his camera on him at that moment, as Alanna would later be forced to smash it. The opened door triggers the carefully positioned bucket and tips approximately thirty frogs of all shapes, colors and sizes on her. Falling frogs can be surprisingly painful, and Alanna howls as several whack her in the head, falling at her feet or hopping to her shoulders in amphibious irritation. The small bit of water in the bucket splashes the back of her neck and runs down her shirt as she stands there gaping at nothing in particular. Once it stops raining frogs, Alanna takes several deep breaths, clenches her teeth and turns around, swiftly scooping a small frog from the back of her neck in the process. “GODDESS. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH CURSES IN ANY KNOWN UNIVERSE. Magical plagues… stabbing… sickness… PAIN.”

Mouth open, Peter stares. There’s honestly nothing else he can do for a long moment. “What… who?”

Fuming, Alanna plucks yet another frog off her person and shivers. “I do NOT know, but as soon as I find out, that person is going to meet the business end of my sword. Several times. Go ahead and laugh, Peter. I know you want to.” She glares and steps tentatively into the bathroom, picking her way around several of the larger and more adventurous amphibians. A loud ribbit sounds from the bathtub. Grinding her teeth, Alanna pulls back the curtain and lets loose several blistering curses. “Peter! Mithros, someone is in BIG TROUBLE.” She gazes at the tub mournfully. “I really wanted a bath.”

Shaking his head, Peter follows her in and stares for a moment before leaning down and picking up a frog. “Oh, c’mon. You know you want to laugh too.” He holds out the frog and flashes a boyish grin. “Look. How can you be mad at this face?”

Alanna feels her lips twitch. Schooling her features, she removes a particularly fat bullfrog from the sink and deposits it on Peter’s head. “You know, you’re right. I’m just jealous because I didn’t think of it first.” Biting her lip, she surveys the damage, swiftly slamming the door when a small black frog attempts to escape. “But… there’s a frog… on my soap.”

Peter snickers and removes the frog from his head. “I don’t think he enjoys being a hat.” He eyes the soap. “But that one apparently favors good hygiene.”

Brow furrowed, Alanna peers at him suspiciously. “You’re handling this remarkably well.” A frog hops on her foot and she groans. “How are we going to clean this up?”

“It’s funny. You should have seen the look on your face. And your hair…” Peter reaches over and pushes the sopping mess off her face. Alanna blinks owlishly. “We could always set them free out by the lake.”

“We could,” Alanna drawls slowly, reaching out for the bullfrog. “I’m quite certain they would rather live there than in our bathroom. However…” She lifts the bullfrog with both hands and peers at it, grinning when its chest puffs out. “I think I want to keep this one.”

The bullfrog blinks at her. “Crrrrroak.”

“Also, this one. And this one.” Alanna scoops one frog off the light fixture, another particularly slimy one from the tub and a sleek, orange striped specimen from the sink. She avoids the ones hopping from the toilet tank. Within minutes, her arms are full of mildly confused frogs croaking and struggling to climb her torso.

Peter blinks at her. He can’t help but be amused at the childish picture she presents and returns her suddenly bright grin. “Fine by me, but where do you propose we keep them? I’m not taking a shower with those things watching me.”

Alanna frowns, shifting her weight as she tries to keep hold of the squirming frogs. She hasn’t gotten that far yet. “Maybe Bar will give us something? In the meantime, we’ll leave them here.” Biting her lip, she stares at the frogs in her arms and concentrates. One by one, the selected frogs turn bright purple. Beaming, she sets them gently in the partially filled tub. “Just so we know which ones we have agreed to adopt.”

Amused, Peter nods. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Alanna finds herself distracted and ignores his question. Her eyes are trained on the fluttering shower curtain. In and out, it shifts like someone is rhythmically pushing it from the inside. The movement looks very familiar. She leans down and sights along the length of the tub, scowling as she sees a frog cheerfully hopping along the rim. Her head snaps up, and she stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Mithros, I can be such a lackwit. OF COURSE!” She bristles, turning to look at Peter. “It was Indiana Jones. His bag hopped. A heart? What were they thinking? The idiots walked right past me! He should know I would eventually figure him out. Besides, what did we ever do to Tom Cruise?”

Peter would dearly love to question most of this tirade, but before he can get a word in, Alanna plops down on the tub and starts muttering to herself. Absently picking up one of her now purple frogs, she kicks the porcelain and glowers at the floor. A few heartbeats later, she snorts and dissolves into laughter.

"He should know better than to trifle with me." Eyes sparkling with mischief, Alanna begins to consider various methods of retaliation. From across the bathroom, she spies a massive frog perched on top of the toilet and abruptly turns it purple as well. “Yes, revenge will be ever so sweet.”

Peter just shakes his head with a wry smile and pushes another frog off his foot. He almost feels sorry for Indy.