07-26-2016, 10:08 PM
Arturo's face manages to maintain a modicum of solid, unimpeachable severity. Just a moment, which is a testament to the Will f the individual sitting before them. Then-
He laughs. Outright mustache rippling laughs, head thrown back and hands over his stomach cackles as the pair come to the same conclusion about what is and what isn't the most honest of circumstances. He laughs. And laughs. And nearly falls out of his chair laughs. Then, crumples over the side arm of his chair laughs. Which turns into leaning over the table, hands spread to either side, trouble catching his breath, laughing. Which eventually subsides into a leaning back into his chair again sort of giggling that ruins all pretense of elderly appearance Arturo seems to possess. He wipes at tears. Has to remove his bifocals to actually do it properly and set them on the table while he scrubs his sockets with a thumb and an index finger.
"Hoo, you kids. Oh man..."
More giggling. More leaning back in his chair which collects beneath him with the careful sort of plushness suggestive of the outrageously expensive. His hands fold over his stomach and his face finally settles down into a pleasant, old man sort of regard that bounces between them two of them for what inevitably begins falling out of his mouth.
"You walk up to a reclusive house on the hill with some half-baked plan at assuaging your curiosity and investigating some old man who greets you with a shotgun at the door. Promptly get invited in for investigative purposes, abandon your story that got you in here in the first place, pull out a Map of something to do with otherworldly matters, openly concoct theories about said matters all while interacting with said shotgun wielding old man who you've accused of some pretense toward what exactly? Do think I'm Dumbledore? Snape? Merlin as well? Are you flying by the seat of your pants where caution is concerned or does your kind just..."
And he makes a face, trying to decipher some element or aspect of clarity about just what a pair of young 'Wizards and Witches' might do
"...Wander into stranger's houses declaring themselves excitedly as something out of a J.K Rowling fantasy on a regular basis?" A pause, the humour seems to have ebb a bit, as if the gravity of this moment were sinking in with Arturo as much as it probably is with the kids. Though he has yet to lose his smile. "Do you understand the future you've put us in? The severity of this? I don't mean the now, I mean the eventual that says Government experiments and lab tables for dissection for the both of you and anyone you know, love, hate or have had some passing fancy for. Do you have rules? Regulations? Dictations? Are those above you going to be upset when they find out an old man's gotten in touch with the police or the authorities or some other Black suited agency out there with identities and camera feeds identifying you? Maybe the old man gets dismissed for public's sake while you two are secretly hunted and all those you are acquainted with, hunted as well."
Another pause. The smile is gone, lips pursed beneath that goatee, eyes still bouncing between the two of them.
"This is the part where I ask what you're thinking. Or if you are, at all...flattered as I am that you've decided to put yourselves in my mercies..." Arturo doesn't sound at all like an angry, or vengeful or despicably cruel creature. He more sounds like a Father scolding a pair of pups on a mistake.
He laughs. Outright mustache rippling laughs, head thrown back and hands over his stomach cackles as the pair come to the same conclusion about what is and what isn't the most honest of circumstances. He laughs. And laughs. And nearly falls out of his chair laughs. Then, crumples over the side arm of his chair laughs. Which turns into leaning over the table, hands spread to either side, trouble catching his breath, laughing. Which eventually subsides into a leaning back into his chair again sort of giggling that ruins all pretense of elderly appearance Arturo seems to possess. He wipes at tears. Has to remove his bifocals to actually do it properly and set them on the table while he scrubs his sockets with a thumb and an index finger.
"Hoo, you kids. Oh man..."
More giggling. More leaning back in his chair which collects beneath him with the careful sort of plushness suggestive of the outrageously expensive. His hands fold over his stomach and his face finally settles down into a pleasant, old man sort of regard that bounces between them two of them for what inevitably begins falling out of his mouth.
"You walk up to a reclusive house on the hill with some half-baked plan at assuaging your curiosity and investigating some old man who greets you with a shotgun at the door. Promptly get invited in for investigative purposes, abandon your story that got you in here in the first place, pull out a Map of something to do with otherworldly matters, openly concoct theories about said matters all while interacting with said shotgun wielding old man who you've accused of some pretense toward what exactly? Do think I'm Dumbledore? Snape? Merlin as well? Are you flying by the seat of your pants where caution is concerned or does your kind just..."
And he makes a face, trying to decipher some element or aspect of clarity about just what a pair of young 'Wizards and Witches' might do
"...Wander into stranger's houses declaring themselves excitedly as something out of a J.K Rowling fantasy on a regular basis?" A pause, the humour seems to have ebb a bit, as if the gravity of this moment were sinking in with Arturo as much as it probably is with the kids. Though he has yet to lose his smile. "Do you understand the future you've put us in? The severity of this? I don't mean the now, I mean the eventual that says Government experiments and lab tables for dissection for the both of you and anyone you know, love, hate or have had some passing fancy for. Do you have rules? Regulations? Dictations? Are those above you going to be upset when they find out an old man's gotten in touch with the police or the authorities or some other Black suited agency out there with identities and camera feeds identifying you? Maybe the old man gets dismissed for public's sake while you two are secretly hunted and all those you are acquainted with, hunted as well."
Another pause. The smile is gone, lips pursed beneath that goatee, eyes still bouncing between the two of them.
"This is the part where I ask what you're thinking. Or if you are, at all...flattered as I am that you've decided to put yourselves in my mercies..." Arturo doesn't sound at all like an angry, or vengeful or despicably cruel creature. He more sounds like a Father scolding a pair of pups on a mistake.