"A king? A king where? Why are there more of you who must laugh in the face of all sensible fashion?" Bernard doesn't care much about clothes - that much is probably clear from his own dress - and so even his misdirected anger fizzles out fast. Cigarette goes back in his mouth, puffing restarts, his lungs continue crying salted and smoked tears.
But something caught his attention, even if it wasn't how ostentatious that ring was... He ponders as Alastair jabs at him. "Careful with those jackknives you call elbows! You're liable to slice me in half!"
Fire, he's talking about fire... Why? He didn't even have a lighter on him--
Pardon the sudden crashing, it's Bernard's chair. And several drawers of his desk that he throws out in a panic, in Alastair's general direction but with such a weak arm it's apparently a wonder he can lift his wine glass. The continuation of loud noises reaches a crescendo when, in a shrieking panic ("Witch! he's a witch!") Bernard tangles himself in the curtain as he tries to flee to the kitchen. He wraps himself up and, as he unravels, spirals around too fast and simply careens right at the kitchen floor.
Safe behind the curtain and laying flat on his stomach, he starts up a riotous tirade calling for help but, mostly, condemning Alastair to increasingly creative fates. A panicked Bernard is not a friendly Bernard, but then most of his self-expression isn't family friendly.
no subject
But something caught his attention, even if it wasn't how ostentatious that ring was... He ponders as Alastair jabs at him. "Careful with those jackknives you call elbows! You're liable to slice me in half!"
Fire, he's talking about fire... Why? He didn't even have a lighter on him--
Pardon the sudden crashing, it's Bernard's chair. And several drawers of his desk that he throws out in a panic, in Alastair's general direction but with such a weak arm it's apparently a wonder he can lift his wine glass. The continuation of loud noises reaches a crescendo when, in a shrieking panic ("Witch! he's a witch!") Bernard tangles himself in the curtain as he tries to flee to the kitchen. He wraps himself up and, as he unravels, spirals around too fast and simply careens right at the kitchen floor.
Safe behind the curtain and laying flat on his stomach, he starts up a riotous tirade calling for help but, mostly, condemning Alastair to increasingly creative fates. A panicked Bernard is not a friendly Bernard, but then most of his self-expression isn't family friendly.