Maurice was no chemist, not by a long shot, but he still had a basic idea of what acid was. He made a small, horrified, strangled sound when Hanna up and downed it.
When the bottle was offered to him he put up both hands, dropping his quill.
"N-no thanks! I've lasted this long without getting some kind of burn! No offence!"
But now he was impressed. He guessed it made sense that a dragon of all things should be able to withstand terrible burns but acid?
He was going to continue the prank a little longer, but he snorts, almost dropping the bottle and starts laughing heartily, unable to restrain himself.
"You should see the look on your face! And the sounds you made, Oh..." Setting the bottle down before he actually drops it, he just continues to laugh, unable to get a hold of himself. Give him a minute.
Maurice slowly lowered his hands and balled them into fists as he realized he'd been had. He puffed himself up and suddenly all that fight he'd stowed away to try and be a good housekeeper came bubbling back up.
Hanna will then tip the bottle over on Maurice's head. He deserved it for calling him 'dragon'. The white bottle contained a clear liquid, the glass cloudy but the contents definitely not.
The noise Maurice made echoed off the cave walls. He was too slow to cover his hands and while the bottle's contents wasn't acid, he still didn't know what to expect. It wasn't until he was dripping and not dying horribly or turning into a newt that he realized the extent to the dragon's douchebaggery.
He turned and let out a strange, wordless yell--the same kind he had the first time he met Hanna--his own pitiful version of a roar.
That yell gets Hanna to laugh harder, half bent over with it, and he just can't seem to stop.
Though to be honest, it kind of serves him right, a little revenge for his sad, colorful state right now. Usually he doesn't clash this much. "I think you deserved that," He wipes at his eyes, tears forming from laughing so hard, "But we're even know, so don't worry." His head turns, taking in a breath and breathing out flames above the man's head, the heat of it more than halfway drying his hair, and high enough that there was no danger of singeing it.
He managed not to scream when Hanna puffed out the fire that dried his hair. But now it was all FRIZZY and awful and he'd worked so hard to look presentable this morning.
"Your face looks longer than mine at the moment," He comments his tail circling around and very gently prodding Maurice's cheek. It was sharp at the end, but it's easily controlled by Hanna, almost impressively so.
Almost as a testament to just how darn gullible he was, the prince unconsciously patted his face just in case that hadn't been water. This was short lived because suddenly that deadly tail came out of nowhere but instead of spearing him through the jaw, it just made things worse. Maurice's brows furrowed so deeply that he resembled some kind of ponderous gargoyle on top of his parents' castle instead of a man. His cheeks and ears flushed a brilliant red.
He let Hanna poke him until finally his temper peaked again. He whipped around and took hold of the dragon's tail with both hands. He had the monster in his grip now. He had won.
Hanna gave him a look, rather surprised that he would try exactly what he was doing at that moment. "Uh...." he manages before his whole tail lifts, bringing Maurice at least a foot off the ground. While Hanna was a noodley dragon, he was still a dragon, and with that, a good amount of strength.
"I will behave how i want and you will learn how to take a joke," he snorts, puffing smoke in his face.
Maurice really ought not have been as surprised as he was. He didn't expect his mentor to have as much strength in the very tip of his tail as he did. He somehow managed to forget that Hanna routinely carved with it. Watching his boots hover above the cave floor sobered him up pretty quickly.
He faced the dragon and forced a grin.
"Sorry, humor wasn't part of my curriculum as a child."
"A man without a sense of humor is boring, learn to have one or you're going to stay a single man forever," He comments, as if it was a wise proverb, and sets Maurice down.
"Now, seriously. Let's get to these. I'll start going through them and we can write labels." He figures if he has him write it in a dragonic or runic language then people can't figure them out just by looking at them.
"I think being employed by a dragon already branded me with that." Once he was on the ground he made a fuss of attempting to fix his hair before taking up the quill and parchment. "I can tell you which ones I threw away because I put the bottles in a pile by the fire..." He had a thought. "Should I show you where I threw them out?"
Was their little mountainside going to catch on fire or grow arms?
"You're allowed around, you're not a slave," He comments, snorting at him again and messing up his hair again. Though, his smile fades when he blinks at Maurice, looking at him and then back at the table. How had he not noticed before? "You...You threw some away?" He moves to start staring at the bottles, trying to figure out which ones were missing. "Why? Why would you do that?"
"Oh, yes! I bring her home for a romantic dinner and I have to put on a whole play about why I live in a cave and have an ENORMOUS PILE OF GOLD." He flung his arms high but quickly cooled his temper.
"They smelled like they'd spoiled...I honestly thought I was doing you a good turn."
"Or, you could spend time with her outside of home. Who said you had to bring her home?" Regardless though, he's not too concerned with the fact that Maurice has seemingly resigned himself to a life alone after less than a week in his new home. Odd fellow.
In any case, he shoots Maurice a look, groaning as he picked up a bottle and tried t figure out it's contents by look alone, "It's my decision whether something has gone off or not, not yours. Sometimes things smell odd because of what is in them, not that they have turned sour."
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theattic2014-11-09 08:06 pm
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When the bottle was offered to him he put up both hands, dropping his quill.
"N-no thanks! I've lasted this long without getting some kind of burn! No offence!"
But now he was impressed. He guessed it made sense that a dragon of all things should be able to withstand terrible burns but acid?
no subject
"You should see the look on your face! And the sounds you made, Oh..." Setting the bottle down before he actually drops it, he just continues to laugh, unable to get a hold of himself. Give him a minute.
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"DRAGON!"
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Surprise, surprise. It was water. "Got you."
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He turned and let out a strange, wordless yell--the same kind he had the first time he met Hanna--his own pitiful version of a roar.
HOW DARE HE!!!
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Though to be honest, it kind of serves him right, a little revenge for his sad, colorful state right now. Usually he doesn't clash this much. "I think you deserved that," He wipes at his eyes, tears forming from laughing so hard, "But we're even know, so don't worry." His head turns, taking in a breath and breathing out flames above the man's head, the heat of it more than halfway drying his hair, and high enough that there was no danger of singeing it.
"You're so gullible."
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The prince continued to pout.
"See if I believe anything else you tell me!"
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"And here I thought you could take a joke."
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He let Hanna poke him until finally his temper peaked again. He whipped around and took hold of the dragon's tail with both hands. He had the monster in his grip now. He had won.
"Behave yourself at once!"
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"I will behave how i want and you will learn how to take a joke," he snorts, puffing smoke in his face.
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He faced the dragon and forced a grin.
"Sorry, humor wasn't part of my curriculum as a child."
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"Now, seriously. Let's get to these. I'll start going through them and we can write labels." He figures if he has him write it in a dragonic or runic language then people can't figure them out just by looking at them.
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Was their little mountainside going to catch on fire or grow arms?
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"They smelled like they'd spoiled...I honestly thought I was doing you a good turn."
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In any case, he shoots Maurice a look, groaning as he picked up a bottle and tried t figure out it's contents by look alone, "It's my decision whether something has gone off or not, not yours. Sometimes things smell odd because of what is in them, not that they have turned sour."