action;

[turn4bout]

[ KNOCK. KNOCK, MOTHERFUCKERS. Someone's pounding on your door. Might want to open it up. You wouldn't want to keep the FBI waiting, would you?

There are two "agents" at the door. Both in matching black suits with matching terribly colored, hideous ties. Both with badges in hand (Terezi's is upside down). One is covered in gray facepaint and has candy corn taped to her head. The other is Dean fucking Winchester.

And you, my friend, are suspected of a various assortment of crimes. ]

Comments

I AM LATER SO IT IS OKAY

[turn4bout.livejournal.com]

You. [ Terezi nudges her foot in the door, shoving her face all up in Poland's business. ]

And the activities you may or may not have been participating in.

Yay!

[reckless-eagle.livejournal.com]

[Poland leans back a little, not moving to close or open the door. Whoooa, personal space!]

What, like, ever?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Ever.

[He pulls out his badge. Fed protocol, dude.]

I'm Agent Astaire. This is Agent Rogers.

[turn4bout.livejournal.com]

Good day, sir. We've got a few questions for you, if you've got the time. We're pretty sure you've got the time, though. So I suggest you don't resist.

[ pap. terezi is papping her badge at poland. ]

[reckless-eagle.livejournal.com]

[A mystery game? Sounds like a fun distraction from all the wah-wah-my-boyfriend-dropped angst lately!]

Sure, totes! Like, come on in--watch your step, it's been way messy in here lately.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[They stroll in all slick and smooth, oilier than the grease in a used car salesman's hair.]

What can you tell us about your recent...activities?

[A beat.]

Nighttime activities.

[reckless-eagle.livejournal.com]

[Okay, he should probably be a little more flustered, but...]

What, like, since my husband left? Not too much.

[H-He'll play up the embarrassment and down the deadpan snark later, but he couldn't help himself!]