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“Negative. This unit prefers cupcakes.”

“Stating Query: Do you have an allegiance to anyone?”

“Well, obviously but most of that is classified. Blame the CENSORED Queen for that.”

“Oi, what’re you looking at? You looking for a tussle of somethin’?”

“Sure! Let’s have at it, lassie!!”

“Ey, ye mind refereeing this? Something tells me it’ll get wild.”

Wilson stands there looking particularly small between the two. He'd mediated many things in his life, but never a pair of complete strangers looking to hash it out over practically nothing. He clung to his axe, face teeming with worry as he passed glances nervously between the pair.

"I-I really don't th-think it's a good idea, you guys," he spoke, his tone meek and uncertain. A pointing finger came up as he attempted to garner their attention one final, pathetic time. "Y-you guys? Perhaps we can talk about it?"

When neither of the warmongers gave the tiny scientist the time of day he turned to a new passerby with an expression of hope on his otherwise pale visage. "I d-don't suppose you know anything about unnecessary v-violence and how to put an end to it, do you?"

Vincent nods. A sinister shark-toothed smile lights up its "face," the only sliver of emotion the slender beast has to exchange for Wilson's fleeting hope.

"Of courssse!" It drawls. It lowers itself to the ground and extends a skeletal arm. Its spindly fingers, each tipped with long black talons, wrap themselves around Wilson's arm. It gives the man a firm tug, trying to pull him toward itself. "Come sssit and watch with me, would you? I'll get around to- hehe -putting a ssstop to their fun, but there's no need to russsh these sorts of gamesss."

"Ssspeaking of gamesss," it turns its head, neck snapping to lock at an absurd angle, to offer it grin to another passerby. "How do you like to pass the time when it getsss...dull?"

He regarded the creature with all manner of eloquence and tact as he would any other. Despite his predilection for being, as Dr. John Watson often puts it, an incredible prick, Sherlock bears no judgement for the being, but rather a countenance of anticipation before he addresses a query that has long since plagued him for as long as he could remember.

"Please tell me you have the answer to that," he presses, sapphire gaze seeking the solution as if the being was capable of willing it into existence. "I seem to come out alive through it all somehow, but the peace is insufferable. I can't. I simply cannot deal with the boredom, if you must know."

In a futile attempt to explain himself further, Sherlock makes broad, swirling gestures with his hands along either side of his head, "It -- it doesn't shut off."

"Perhaps you have an idea?" the detective turns to voice his frustrations to the individual adjacent to their conversation. "How it must feel for you to be able to accept the world as it is. How do you manage your boredom?"

She quirked a dark brow at the detective. "View the world as it is? The world is not as our little minds filter it, sort and compartmentalize it. It is as our brain's choice to view it in ways that lets us understand and make sense of the little we know. There is so much more! Our minds cannot hope to hold all the vastness of knowledge our ancestors once possessed or all the endless knowledge that multiple universes offer. We are but motes among the infinity of the cosmos." She shakes her head with a sheepish laugh.

"You really shouldn't get me started on such topics, Mr. Holmes. As to your question about boredom, who has the time to be bored when one truly thinks about all there is to do. People use the word bored and boredom too easily when they may mean; how do you manage yourself when you feel lonely? When you have no one to talk to? No one to exchange with? No one to dance with. laugh with, argue with but your own self? There is no boredom to be had when the world you cherish and those you love may no longer be with you. I'm surprise a man of your intellect can even contemplate such a question."

She smirks, "No boredom is a luxury for those who lack a creative mind or lack a want to better themselves and the world around them, I think. "

She turns to the being close to ask them with a wistful expression on her face. "I've asked this so many times before and still...to you, which is worse lose or regret?"

"Regret. For I regret not taking action sooner with a loved one and I lost them. I will remember them will fond loving memories for as long as I live, but my regret will haunt me until I die."

"How would you formulate an intellectual question?"

"Frankly, asking questions for the sake of sounding intelligent just seems like an incredibly pretentious concept to me. I rather ask wholesome things!"

"Such as; hey! How's your day going so far?"

"I d-d-don't know h-how to explain..." He looked away.



"Is t-t-there anything I c-could help you with?"

NEVER. DEATH SHALL COME TO THOSE WHO ARE UNWORTHY OF JUDGEMENT. A FOOLISH MORTAL SHOULD NOT DARE THINK THEY CAN "ASSIST" ME.

(If you could remove anything from existence, what would it be?)

"The clankers I have to shoot up all the damn time."

"Oi. I need to rest. You got a place I can sleep in for the night?"

Ambria*she bows to the man in front of her knowing he was a guest to her master* Y yes sir the master was expecting you.........you're room is right down the hallway away sir.



What would your last words be if you were going to be shot for murdering someone?

"none because a bullet wouldn't harm me and i would never kill a man without reason now for my question. if death were coming for you and you had nothing no trump cards, no tricks up your sleeves, no last minute miracles, would you accept deaths touch or would you deny it all together?"

"That's a..." Lisa cuts herself off with a timid chuckle. Wringing her hands together, her eyes dart around the room while she struggles to find the words for her answer. "I-I'm not more afraid of just...dying than your average person. It's unpleasant, but also unavoidable. What I mean to say is...I think I can accept death...in...in isolation."

Her wandering gaze locks on the graceful warrior. She takes a long pause to just...drink him all in, and then continues with a solemn intensity not befitting her slim, slightly hunched frame and wary expression. "But when you talk about death, you don't mean passing away peacefully after having lived a long, fulfilling life, do you? You mean dying in the field of battle, dying for a cause, of...some kind. That's the sort of death I'd fight tooth and nail to avoid. I don't care if I've run out of tricks or can't expect a miracle- I have to be honest with you, I've no interest whatsoever in becoming a martyr."

She lets her answer sink in and then releases a long, slow breath. "Whew, that was a dark question. Uh...let's...oh, I know," she snaps her fingers and turns toward the next in line. "If you grow anything out of a garden- seriously, anything you'd like -use your imagination. What would it be?"

Tobias perked up at the question. "Anything?" He hummed to himself, thinking for a moment. "I've never really gardened before, but I'd gladly learn for the chance to try growing dragon ivy." By his side, his jackal familiar gave him a pointed look at his answer. "D-don't give me that, it's a lovely plant," he responded to some silent remark, looking quite put-off. "Yes, yes, I know its illegal to grow in captivity, but still! It's a pain to go out and look for them--I'm sure I could take care of them. I know it's covered in poisonous thorns, you say that as if I haven't worked with more dangerous materials."

"Er," he yelped, suddenly aware of the one-sided conversation he was having in public. "S-sorry, got a bit carried away. As for a question to ask you," he began, turning to the next in line, "if you could have the opportunity to learn any kind of skill, magical or mundane, what would it be?"

"Ooh, good one." Maisi thinks for a few moments, trying to narrow down the list of things she might like to learn--only to realize that it's quite a big list and only seems to grow the more she thinks about it. Deciding to just pick a skill at random, she muses, "I think, honestly--it would be really nice to learn to play the guitar. As it is, I've got little to no musical skill."

She lifts her shoulders in a helpless shrug, adding, "If not the guitar then maybe violin, but I feel like guitar might be a little easier to play without disturbing anyone else."

With a small grin the artist begins tapping one foot, pondering another question before turning to the next figure she spots. "I've had some people tell me this is a boring question, but I like hearing the answers to it. Why is your favorite color your favorite color? In other words, what makes it your favorite?"

"My what?" Greg asks almost incredulously. It wasn't as though the question offended him per se, but he lacked the preparation for one so offbeat. Nevertheless, the detective inspector gave his stubbled chin a thoughtful scratch before he shrugged, completely at a loss.

"I've never really considered a favorite color or even why I'd have one, for that matter. But I guess if I had to choose," Greg would pause, his mind still trying to grasp such a visionary inquiry. "It would be silver, I guess. It's kinda dignified and represents the badge, which, mind you, is a lifestyle. I feel like it's a color to be taken seriously, y'know? It's also classy and goes with everything."

He felt his response was a bit unimaginative, but Greg had never been pressed to answer something of that nature before. Now had she asked about how to wrangle unruly consulting detectives, he may have had something more to contribute.

"Now why do you suppose everyone always thinks they're gonna get away with it?" Lestrade probes inquisitively.

[ For the love of -- skip over me! I'm sorry! I got ninja'd! ]

She brought a cup of jasmine tea close to her full lips and gentle blew over it before taking a sip. Carefully placing her cup down on her saucer her lavender blue eyes flash with a spark of anger. "Arrogance. A certain narcissistic attitude and belief that one can outsmart authority or talk and charm one`s way out of possible consequences. It probably starts young when it happens. Lies to cover up childish misdeeds. I only view this through observations of course. I'm not a professional therapist."

The young raven-haired journalists twirls her pen between her long slim fingers. "So, what`s your favourite place to read a good book and escape from the hustle and bustle of the world for a few hours?"