[centre] [h3][color=fdc68a]~Graham Turner~[/color][/h3] “Well well, what do we have here?” Nothing. Nothing at all. Just us ants, going about our antlike ways. Please, by all means, continue on your way, gentle giant. [color=red]“Don’t you know that it's rude to suddenly bump into people?”[/color] [color=fdc68a]Don’t you know that it’s rude to make a man soil himself? And -[/color] The giant bent down and grabbed Graham by the back of the neck. And the next thing Graham knew, he was soaring through the air. Onwards and upwards. Perhaps he would continue raising all the way up into the sky? To space? He’d be happy to live amongst the stars. Why not? … Nope. He stopped before her face. That grin chilled him to the bone. His body was urging for a response. To stay would be death. To leave would be death. Please… His legs were ready to pump, lungs ready to scream, bladder ready to spray liquid fear into the giant’s eyes. [color=red]“I think you owe me an apology, don’t you think?”[/color] Graham might have been willing to give the woman her apology, but the chuckle...oh God the chuckle… [color=fdc68a]“SWEET MERCIFUL THOR! Don’t hit me, I’m little! I’m allergic to violence and pain and ouch.”[/color] Graham closed his eyes and scrunched his face up, making deals with any otherworldly being that happened to be listening at the time. It seemed like something was. “Mishka, I presume. Why don’t you set Mr. Turner down?” [color=fdc68a]“Yes! Yes! Listen to the manly voice of wise wisdom and kindness! Mr. Turner would like to go down now, please? Miiisssshhhkkkaaa, pwetty pwease? With borscht on top?”[/color] … Wait…did he just...did he just poke the bear? … [color=fdc68a]“OH GOD NO! NO NO NO! I DIDN’T MEAN THAT! PLEASE!”[/color] Graham pleaded once more with the outside forces, begging for the manly voice to gain physical form and rescue him. He wasn’t holding his breath though. At least he would die with dignity and honor. Or no, the opposite of that. [/centre] [hr] [centre] [h3][color=FFB6C1]~Tabitha Turner~[/color][/h3] Uhh… Tabitha blinked a couple times. Her roommate was gone. Holy fuck she spoke quickly. And moved...quickly. Welp. Ok then. Back to business. She quickly finished up when the original Tabitha strolled back into the room. MaidTabby strolled over to her, nodded approvingly, then broke out a brush and painted on a small blue star on her face. Perfect. Tabitha’s copy walked towards her, joining back up into one. There. Right as rain, fully whole. She felt nice. She was wearing a generic black rock ‘n’ roll shirt, some grey jeans with some holes cut by her knees, and finished up with a red jacket wrapped around her waist. Weather, man...at least back home, it was wild. Mother Nature couldn’t make up her stupid mind. Oh hey, have some rain. And some sunshine. And snow. AND BALLS OF FUCKING FIRE, DIE HEATHENS, DIE DIE DIE. … Tabby really hated the outdoors at times. Her roomie popped back in and was practically bouncing off the walls. And she was wearing a kickass shirt which singlehandedly guaranteed their friendship. AC/DC, man… Add in the fact that there was the unmistakeable shape of guitar on the other side of the room and boom! Instant friendship through the power of music. Yep, friends. Whether she liked it or not. [color=silver]“Pleased-to-meet-you-Tabitha!-My-name’s-Anouk.”[/color] Anouk? … The hell kind of name is that? [color=silver]“Sorrry… I tend to talk abit fast when I’m excited!”[/color] Excited? Might be a bit of an understatement. But… [color=silver]“Let’s be friends, k?”[/color] Tabitha beamed a smile-and-a-half at the rockable brunette. [color=FFB6C1]“Duuude...don’t worry ‘bout it. You do you, man, and we’ll be righteous. And if you can like, actually play THAT…”[/color] Tabby nodded over to the beauty by the Dutch girl’s bed. [color=FFB6C1]“...then you’re going to have a new best friend.”[/color] She wrapped up her little spiel by shifting her weight to one foot and folding her hands behind her head, bearing the mischievous little grin which the other Turner children would associate with trouble of some sort. [/centre]