fandomhigh | Practical Weaponry [Wednesday, Period Four]

The class was back in the Danger Shop this week, which was set up to resemble a high-class dinner party. Resplendent in a perfectly tailored dinner jacket, Bond was there to greet them.

"There are some situations that a person cannot go into with a weapon," he said, gesturing around the spacious ballroom. "For example, many diplomatic situations, or high-class casinos, or the like, have weapons detectors, and highly trained security staff. However, that does not necessarily mean that you will go in unarmed.

"Apart from any training you may have in unarmed training, you have your wits, and your clothes. In a situation such as this, your choice of clothing can be If you look like you belong, you will be unlikely to attract much notice. If you're working in a team, having your partner wearing a stunning couture dress can distract your enemies at a vital moment." Or leave you distracted at a vital moment, it could backfire sometimes. Not that Bond was going to mention that. "In a pinch, a stiletto heel can be quite a potent weapon indeed."

Bond gestured to an unassuming door. "There is a wardrobe with suitable clothing and footwear through there, and changing stalls," he said. "You will outfit yourselves in a manner befitting this party, and spent the rest of the class mingling and getting information on various party guests, as well as looking out for any fixtures in the room that could be used as weapons. If you have trouble choosing an outfit, I will be happy to help."

Once the students had entered the wardrobe to choose their outfits, they would have noticed that it was filled with stunning couture dresses in every style, fabric, and colour imaginable. After a few more minutes they would have noticed that there wasn't a single suit in sight.

After all, it was unfair to only expect the girls to wear spike heels.

[ooc: ~~wait for~~ ocd up.]

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The one the cat likes the best.

Honestly, now.

"They're a touch mad, aren't they? All four of them."

"It's the business," he said. "Does things to you if you're not careful."

This was the man with an iguana on his shoulder talking, mind you.

"Of course," Tybalt allowed, his gaze twitching back toward the men and their cat. "One needs must take the proper precautions to avoid such things. Might I inquire as to the nature of their own particular... slip?"

"They decided it would be more intimating for the mooks if they gave meetings while stroking it. Don't ask me why."

The mooks!

Ah, then this conversation was absolutely up Tybalt's alley!

"An interesting theory, if only a theory," he decided. "A cigar will suffice. Attitude serves far more surely than any mere feline might."

Said the Prince of Cats. The guy who had custom-made boots with kitties on the heels, yes.

It was doubtful that a man whose lizard had a diamante collar would judge Tybalt there. "Or a slightly crazed henchman with a switch-blade," he said. Oh how sad he was that he couldn't bring Dario to the party.

"Or a custom-made Rapier 9-millimetre," Tybalt added. "It nicely demonstrates that one possesses not simply the wealth to carry out that which they threaten, but also the means, immediate and real."

A pause.

"Mind, travelling with henchmen does carry a certain sort of charm to it, as well."

"Or a portable shark tank," he said, nodding. "Those are fun."

... Now Tybalt really kind of wanted one of those.

"I must confess, I've never had the pleasure of keeping sharks before," he mused. "What might one feed them, when business is going well enough that one needs not make a point to the... mooks?"

"That's the thing about sharks, they can live on a varied diet of annoyances."

The corner of Tybalt's lip twitched faintly.

"Perhaps one might begin with an appetizer of individuals who've not paid debts past due," he decided. "And then move on to a main course of Montague. Or possibly grown men who choose to quarrel like mere babes over a cat."

The man grinned. "I like the way you think, kid." Even if he didn't know who these Montagues were.

"Tybalt, please," he replied, grinning and nodding almost graciously.

Which managed, somehow, to still look good in spite of the freakish couture.

"And I take a particular pleasure- and pride- in ridding my house of such annoyances." He patted himself down for a moment, and then surfaced with a Cuban cigar. "Cigar, good sir?"

Yes, he'd kept them on him. He wasn't going to risk anyone taking his Cubans while he was gallivanting around in a dress, thank you.

"Tybalt, then," the man said. "Call me Franz. Cubans? You have good taste."

"T'is as I've said, Franz," Tybalt replied, pulling one out for himself and clamping it between his teeth. He was fairly certain he couldn't get away with actually lighting it in class, but appearances were important, right? "It is all a matter of attitude."

"You're a man after my own heart," Franz said. "If you ever need to do business in my part of the world, you look me up."

Tybalt gave a gracious nod, which was thrown off entirely by his predatory grin.

"And, should thou find thyself in Verona, thou hast a friend in the Capulet house as well."

Franz's grin was a twin to Tybalt's. He raised his glass. "To new friends."

"To new friends," Tybalt agreed.

It was probably really, really fortunate that this was only a simulation.

Practical Weaponry [Wednesday, Period Four]

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