That's why I came up with this brilliant scheme- just steal everything.

[beatupgrass]

Who: Rocket + Mirror!Rocket
Where: All around the mansion, both Real and Mirror Side.
When: From the Queen's announcement onwards.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rocket's Mirror has cut loose for the Real side to steal ALL THE THINGS as he do. Meanwhile Rocket's stuck on the Mirror Side and hates every minute of it.
The Story:

MIRROR SIDE | ROCKET


Rocket has never enjoyed the few trips to the Mirror Side he's gotten stuck having. He doesn't know what the deal with his flarkin' Mirror is, but that bastard can fly when given the chance, and he sure as hell made that switch at a very, very inconvenient time. Seriously. He was working on a thing. He doesn't know what that thing is yet, but being stuck here greatly impedes him from figuring it out.

Rocket's moving through the halls with his gun up, giving everyone who passes the stink-eye, until they prove they're Reals, non-hostile Mirrors, or actually give him a reason to pull the trigger.

"I freakin' hate Wonderland," he mutters as he walks.

REAL SIDE | MIRROR ROCKET

Meanwhile, Rocket's Mirror has shoved The Thing that Rocket was working on in his sack and has set off to find anything else that catches his interest. Surely Her Majesty can't want all of the things. He can have some for himself, too. Nice things. Things to add to his collection.

While Rocket's hard to miss, his Mirror is easy to avoid. He's just some unfamilar, eerily quiet wide-eyed young human man with scruffy hair and dirty clothes. Basically, a scrawny unwashed hobo... who is deftly picking every lock he can find and rifling through your belongings. That's totally normal. He has orders, you see. And he likes shiny things. Those are his. Because he's doing so well for her Majesty.

Comments

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket snaps back to attention and begins looking around frantically for something to answer that with. His gaze settles on a framed photograph and he grabs it and begins pointing enthusiastically at the picture of Emma.]

[unhand]

....Emma. [Killian tilts his head, frowning slightly. So it's to be miming, then.] You know Emma?

[beatupgrass]

[He nods enthusiastically, gesturing to the picture, and then to himself, miming the "OK" sign. She's cool with me!]

[unhand]

Is she really? [Killian narrows his eyes, still looking at the other man mistrustfully.] Was that before or after you started routing through our belongings?

[beatupgrass]

[UMMM. He looks sheepish for a moment and then signs at him enthusiastically.

And then he realizes that he probably doesn't speak sign language, sighs, points to his eyes and then gestures to the room. Just looking.

His eyes flick to the hook again. Can he take that and just... run....]

[unhand]

[Killian misreads that look and lowers the hook, figuring this guy's finding it (rightfully) intimidating.] You can't speak.

[He turns away and grabs a pad of paper.] Can you write?

[beatupgrass]

[he can't even read, hook. it took all of his move slots to learn sign language.

he shakes his head no, mildly nonplussed.]

[unhand]

[Killian eyes him. He seems to be excited about Emma, but he can't communicate, and he was going through their things.] All right, mate, you may be friends with Emma, but somehow I doubt you're good enough friends that she'd be all right with you taking our things. Out with you.

[beatupgrass]

[No. No. Opposite of what he wanted. He holds up his hands defensively and tries to sidle out, only to stop and grab Killian's wrist- the one with the hook- before he can actually leave.

And then he just stares at him with creepy pleading brown eyes.]