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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"Also," Arthur continued bravely on, even if that eyebrow didn't spell much good, "You don't create loyalty or a wish to serve by making your subordinates do things you wouldn't be willing to do yourself."

Bond's facial expression didn't move one millimetre, yet somehow invited Arthur to keep digging.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Arthur informed him again.

Although if he did, he'd be the best l--

No. No, not going there. He refused.

Bond's eyebrow only moved maybe half a millimetre upwards, but managed to tack on a query about trying to out-stubborn someone who had once been intimately familiar with the sensation of having their manhood beaten with a knotted rope.

It was a very eloquent half-millimetre.

It was. It certainly made Arthur shut up.

It also made Arthur cross his arms and stare straight back at him.

See who rusts first.

Another fraction of a millimetre let Arthur know that said tenderised manhood had also been in very real danger of being removed from Bond's person, and yet it was still attached and the potential remover was no longer amongst the living.

Bond's eyebrows were all about nuance.

Yes, well, Arthur would find someone to tenderise his manhood with a knotted rope if that meant he was going to win this one. It was a dress. Come on.

So he set his jaw slightly more in that way that implied that well, he might have the eyebrow advantage, but Arthur had the Pendragon Death Glare which was crafted from many years of gryphon-hunting and that one time Morgana socked him in his crotch with a practice sword.

He still refused to acknowledge that that had been any kind of win.

Bond's eyebrow wanted to know if Arthur wanted to spend some quality time with the most intimidating woman in the British Isles (and possibly the world) instead. Because Bond could arrange that.

She didn't need a knotted rope to tenderise anyone's manhood.

Arthur was by now actually sort of curious as to how this 'most intimidating woman in the British Isles' would cope with his father, who could make men wish they were having their manhoods tenderised, sometimes.

Or maybe he just did that to Arthur, who got a sort of difficult look crossing his face along with that thought.

Bond suspected tears, manly tears of pain and suffering. There was a reason that she was the most intimidating woman in the British Isles, after all.

He was also quite sure that she'd then be quite happy to move onto having quality time of a different sort with Morgana. Wasn't that a cheery thought?

At the very least they'd make a killing if they sold tickets.

But that last thought was very much appreciated.

Arthur glanced back at the changing room behind him.

"Flip a coin?" he offered.

Bond could arrange that last meeting to happen too, but he'd disclaim any responsibility for what might happen next.

"I consider myself a gambling man," he said, pulling a coin from a pocket. "Heads I win, tails you lose, agreed?"

Arthur smiled at him. Pleasantly. "I don't think so."

"Well, if you'd prefer something with more skill, there's lots of options we could go with," he said, then after a moment added "Except poker."

"Do be so kind as to list the options?" Arthur prompted, keeping with the whole pleasant theme.

"Well, there's blackjack, baccarat, rummy, bridge, go fish, snap," Bond said with a shrug. "Just, you know, anything that's not poker."

"And what would be the matter with poker?"

Inquiring minds wanted to know.

The expression on Bond's face could best be described as chagrin. "Look, a person can't be good at everything, you know," he protested, looking everywhere but at Arthur.

"That's perfectly true," Arthur had to say, nodding his head right along, "So you would be bad at poker."

"It just wouldn't be fair, is all I'm saying." There might have been just the slightest hint of a pout.

Because Bond had shown himself to be overly concerned with fairness this class. Truly.

"Still, a challenge would be a challenge," Arthur had to remind him.

"There's challenges and there's challenges." He didn't sound sulky. It would be untoward for a teacher to sound sulky.

Of course, Arthur had no idea how to play poker.

So maybe it would be best if he didn't push that point.

He looked thoughtful.

If the way he way he was behaving was any indication, Bond didn't either.

"I suppose...one hand," Bond said finally, as if it had been dragged from him.

"No," Arthur said, slowly, "First you'll have to teach me how."

How long was it until the school bells would ring again, anyway?

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