No Funny Business [Marceline]

[Konaa]

Seriously? This is just typical. I'm always the one who gets stuck with the troublemakers....

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It was an awkward time to be a Marine.

Maybe not for most of them, who enlisted either out of a sense of moral obligation, or to obtain social status to then abuse. But for the few who fell into a very strange gap between those two groups, those precious few who honestly had no strong feelings on any of this one way or another...

The New Era had made things, to say the least, complicated. Every day, the gateway to the Grand Line in East Blue, Loguetown, had at least some sort of incident. Either pirates at the door, pirates in the streets, or pirates slipping past. They were galvanized and ready to go. And the Marines were all the more determined to stop them for it.

Leaving Konaa smack dab in the middle, wishing that everyone would just settle the hell down for five minutes.

Here he strode, down through Loguetown's marketplace streets, slouched posture and half-lidded eyes giving a less than alert impression. While normally they'd be packed with shoppers local and foreign, most people were keeping a low profile this late in the day. He passed the reason why, briefly slowing down to look over a cracked wooden shopfront. Just a few hours earlier, a massive, burly man about nine feet tall started rampaging with a few of his pals in the center of the stalls, apparently feeling ripped off by some merchant's deal.

Konaa'd seen what they had stocked in these shops - the places geared toward faulty pirating gear, taking full advantage of the crime wave. It had always been like that with Loguetown's historical value, but the so-called New Era had made it worse than ever. Here was the peddler in particular, shouting orders at his employees working to repair the place. A quiet look of intense disdain crossed Konaa's face before he continued on. Slimy bunch. You didn't have to break the law to be a crook at heart...

See, there was another problem. What was with all these flashes of contempt, all because he'd run into something ugly? It wasn't like him at all to get so worked up. He'd better not be catching the damn Justice bug from all his 'comrades...'

Glowering, in a worse mood than usual (somehow), Konaa wound his way down the paved stone roads, passing now into the great square where that infamous platform had stood...

[Vio]

¹

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I wonder if he’s noticed yet…? Everyone else has. Doesn’t seem so… Oh, well. I can have a little more fun~! While Loguetown’s streets might have been noisy even with diminished activity, there was one spirit who was unusually quiet. Currently, said silent soul stalked another – it stalked a simple man carrying his groceries through the streets of the city, likely on his way back home. And, as it stalked, it mimicked his movements – his gait, pace and various other habits perfectly replicated. One would call it his shadow, if it weren’t for the fact she was wearing black yoga pants and a banded black and white top.

^{Still no…? Shame, I–
She stopped:
I have the perfect idea~!}

It was as her current quarry passed through the main plaza that Pierrot Marceline’s indigo eyes settled upon fresh prey. A young man dressed in white and blue uniform – a young trooper of the World Navy who was otherwise minding his own business. This was going to be glorious. Ceasing her stalking, she slammed an invisible door behind her, smiled mischievously and began to pursue the poor patriot in complete and utter silence. And she did so with an overly exaggerated creep. Would this one be more observant, she wondered…

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SPOILER: Click to show

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_{Pierrot Marceline (1a1110)}

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[Konaa]

Well, aside from that mess earlier, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary here. Hell, he certainly didn't mind a quieter street. Less people to jostle into or maneuver around. No ma'am, I will not tell your neighbor to quiet down with his carpentry in the middle of the night. No, sir, find your own damn way to the execution platform. Thankfully, most of the actual residents knew better than to ask him for anything. It took work, you know - building up this kind of lazy unreliable reputation.

So generally speaking he didn't really expect to be bothered under the circumstances. Which was why, for...well over five minutes, he noticed absolutely nothing about his surroundings, hands shoved in his coat's pockets, slouched and slogging along down through the square.

A couple people's gazes caught his attention. Why were they staring past him - Whatever. Konaa came to a halt, looking to the side at another storefront, the glass window displaying a thin reflection of the street, himself, and-

Aaaand...?

"KH-" Inhaling sharply, he spun on a dime, almost toppling over in haste, just barely containing a yell of shock. What was - WHAT? He stared at the apparent MIME that was right behind him, without a care in the world. How long had she - WHY was she - !?

Boy, she'd got him good. His face was tinged with pink, eyes almost bugging out of his head, an expression of utter bafflement on his face.

...Suffice it to say, he took several seconds to course correct. Eventually, though, he was able to drag his hands through his hair and rustle up a sentence of some sort. "I...I mean, can I help you!? I- Presume that's why you're creeping around back there?"

[Vio]

²

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As her prey span around, so too did Marceline. A stumble, a twist, blended neatly into a disorderly twirl. But unlike her ‘mirror’, there was no real threat of falling. And she did not end perfectly, either. Rather, she repeated his movements in double, returning to face him by the time he had actually regained his own balance. And the look on his face was picture perfect. It was a real bummer she didn’t have a Camera Snail on her person. The best she could do was try and imitate his expression, but she felt the tension in her cheeks rising – a laugh bubbling up as soon as she even considered an attempt. She refrained for now.

^{Oh! This guy’s such a rube! She thought:
At least he noticed me, unlike that other guy…}

Pulling an apple out of seemingly nowhere, not even questioning where on Earth she had plucked it from, Miss Pierrot simply took a bite as her latest victim stammered, stumbled and slurred his words into an eventual enquiry. It was a very nice apple. Quite juicy, with polished red skin and a healthy, crispy flesh that somehow failed to make much of a noise as she chewed. Rich in flavour, too.

Help me, huh? Wait… Where did I… Oh! Sure! Giving the gentleman a quick thumbs up with one hand as she swallowed the chunk of apple, Marceline reached out to grab his arm – to present his open palm in which she intended to place the partly eaten fruit. It was a nice fruit. She was sure he’d appreciate it. Though little did the poor sucker realise where she’d pilfered it from…

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SPOILER: Click to show

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_{Pierrot Marceline (1a1110)}

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[Konaa]

It's gonna be one of those days.

This clown - and he meant that in both senses of the word - was toying with him, that much he could already glean. It just figured that out of all the people she could've chosen to bother in this entire town, she'd zeroed in on him. It honestly wasn't even a surprise to him.

Marceline's mimicry was so perfect it managed to completely land him into the zone of creeped out in seconds. Not that he had any trouble recognizing that she was mocking him. If there was anything he had a nose for it, it was that.

Exhaling and taking a moment to gather his wits, Konaa gave the mime a once-over, the confusion evidently still with him. You got a lot of different types in Loguetown, but even so - He just could not, for the life of him, determine what this person was doing here and why.

He just narrowed his eyes as she took a bite of that apple. What sorta nonsense was going on here? A second later, he was holding the fruit - Blinking, Konaa abruptly dropped it with a scandalized sound, his hand seeming to harshly pull away from coming into contact with hers. "Gah! Wh- I mean with CRIME stuff, not - I don't want your half-eaten trash! I'm not a garbage can!"

Konaa's hands and arms gesticulated wildly as his agitation built even higher. An officer of the law arguing with a street performer in the middle of the town square was not exactly the norm, even for around here...

"Who the hell are you and - Why are you bugging me?" he growled out, inordinately annoyed. Seems she struck a nerve, already, somehow...

[Vio]

³

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Pierrot Marceline’s face soured. An exaggerated frown forming upon her lips as the apple’s part-eaten remains hit the floor with a soft thud. Had she really felt like it, she could’ve easily feigned tears, but Mz. Mime chose otherwise. As more and more pairs of eyes started to look her way – to look at the poor Marine who had become her unwitting performing partner – he asked the question. Who the hell was she? And to that, there was only one possible response…

It is I! Me!! She pointed a thumb at herself, twirled on the spot, and posed with chin raised high, down on one knee, hand on her heart and arm outstretched. The silence of the town was deafening. Even the crickets stopped chirping to watch the monochrome maiden’s motions. A few seconds later, and everything returned to normal. With how still everything had gone, she realised she might as well have just said ‘Za Warudo!’ and gotten the same effect.

With a spring in her step, she stood up and bowed low. Compromise.

^{Pierrot Marceline, she signed:
Pleased to meet you, ‘Not a Garbage Can’!}

Whether or not the youth understood sign language was yet to be determined, but somebody somewhere in the world must’ve laughed at the right time. She just had that feeling of entertainer’s accomplishment – the buzz within. Now, who was going to be the one to call out the young soldier for littering…?

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SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

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_{Pierrot Marceline (1a1110)}

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