[ March 30th ] Tree Climbing

[Professor Pangaea]

((OOC: Open to anyone who wants to climb a tree! There is a sign that SPECIFICALLY says not to climb the tree.))

[Alfred F. Jones]

Ah, there it was - the tree with the sign specifically saying not to climb it! It wasn't a big tree. It was bigger than him, but not huge or anything like that. It wasn't usually befitting of a hero to climb such a small tree, but there were a lot of feral cats around campus and occasionally they'd get stuck in trees like this, and Alfred had eaten McDonald's twice that week and felt like his athletic health was in decline, so he needed practice climbing trees to save the feral cats.

It was better to start small, then work your way up to the bigger trees, and then to the biggest trees, and then to Mount Everest! That was the American way, after all, and practice made perfect. And there were no other trees to practice on, none at all! So breaking the rules was surely forgivable, since his cause was so noble.

Alfred was happy to realize that climbing this tree wasn't all that hard after all. A hop, skip, and a jump, and he was directly on its main branch, and though climbing any further wasn't very smart due to how small the other branches seemed to be, he had to press on! What if a cat was trapped on one of those smaller branches? How would he handle it?

He would handle it well! And he would reach, reach... his balance would be very precarious but he would persevere and save the day...!

[Francis Bonnefoy]

All that Francis had been looking for was a calm place to read his book. The campus could be really noisy at times, and Machiavelli required all of his focus if he truly wanted to understand him - besides, he had gotten some new pictures that required examination, and that was something that simply couldn't be done with people around. So when he went out near the park in the school grounds, he was expecting peace, quiet and maybe some bugs.

Not an American on top of a tree.

France couldn't help but stare in a manner that was probably rude, wondering what the guy (he looked like a sophomore, but he was sure he hadn't seen him before) was doing up there, imitating a monkey.

[Alfred F. Jones]

America grabbed the imagined cat from the highest tree branch and exclaimed out loud, "And Sir Pounce-A-Lot is saved by the American Hero once aga-"

And then he slipped, scraped his knee on a branch, and... well, if there had been a real cat in America's arms the poor thing would've been smushed when he toppled to the ground. The good news was that it was only six or seven feet. The bad news was that someone was standing right there and SAW HIM FAIL.

He may also have made an undignified noise when he hit the ground, but maybe that was just his imagination...

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis' first impulse, which was to jump the boy in front of him and at the very least caress that well-shaped behind, was suppressed with some effort.

Francis' second impulse was not as easy. Although he knew it would be rather cruel, he could not help the laughter that escaped him - the poor boy had fallen from so high, and he was probably hurt, but that pitiful noise-! A few chuckles escaped him before he managed to control himself and walk over.

"Are you alright?"

[Alfred F. Jones]

America heard that. He heard it and disliked it and felt his face flush as he rolled over somewhat groggily. Squinting, he looked up at France and squinted harder. Why couldn't he see?

"D'you know where my glasses went?" he asked, looked around. His left wrist hurt, man this sucked. America tested his wrist once or twice before determining it wasn't broken.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Well, now he felt guilty. Francis hoped the boy wasn't hurt, after all, that would only make his laughing at him even worse. He took a look around before kneeling next to him to check on his wrist as well. "I'm afraid not. Does your hand hurt?"

[Alfred F. Jones]

America reflexively jerked away from this gross invasion of his personal space. "Dude, I'm fine," he said defensively.

He couldn't help scowling a bit. He was supposed to be the hero of cats trapped in trees everywhere, as well as the hero of students freshly fallen out of trees! Now this guy comes along with his French accent and stupid hair that America had to squint to see and he was trying to be the hero. Not fair. America would find his glasses and tend to his bruised wrist alone!

With this in mind, he sat up straighter and began patting at the grass around them, trying to find the glasses.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Well, wasn't he just a rude little-! Francis huffed, offended that his concern was being turned away so easily. He had half a mind to push him down and walk away when he saw something shining a a meter or so behind the American. Francis could not help his malicious grin.

"I think I see something shining over there..." he mentioned casually, pointing in the opposite direction.

[Alfred F. Jones]

Oooh, shiny!

"Where?" America crawled over in the direction France was pointing at. If a certain body part of his was in plain view for France, he didn't notice and therefore didn't care. Finally, he grabbed his glasses and turned around, finally able to see France's face clearly.

Oh. It was that guy. America's hand twitched in the direction of his pocket, where he kept his keys and his pepper spray. "It's you. I sprayed you."

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Unfortunately for America, Francis had noticed. He appreciated it as America crawled towards his glasses, regretting not having his camera on him. Oh, what a great addition it would have made to his collection! He was so focused that suddenly hearing America speak brought him out of some sort of trance.

"Pardon?" Francis blinked a few times before he recognized that fine piece of ass student whose pictures he had taken the other day. "Oh yes, you look quite different without your glasses on".

[Alfred F. Jones]

Was he looking at America's... No. No way. America finally stood up, and tried not to wince at all. He was fine, really. He was a trooper! His back didn't hurt much at all, really.

"I look different? Ha!" America shook his head and placed his hand at his hip to easily grab his keychain of doom in the event that this guy decided to get pervy again. The pose also made him look very in-control and imposing, or so he thought. "I bet. You're not two stories up spying on me, I'm not spraying you with pepper spray, and this time you're wearing clothes! The situation is totally different." And let's keep it that way.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Oh, must we stay in the same tiresome topic? France rolled his eyes dismissively, the memory of the fall still fresh in his mind. He hadn't expected he would meet one of his 'models' so soon

"I was not spying on you. Or your roommate, for that matter. I'm ..." and here he added a flair of his hand, just for effect, "a photographer. It's a hobby of mine, and I truly enjoy taking candid pictures".

Who knew that conversation with his roommate could provide such great excuses.

[Alfred F. Jones]

America tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "While naked? That's public indecency, you know!"

[Francis Bonnefoy]

France shrugged. "It's easier to climb without clothes that get stuck on things, you know. And I'll have you know, I was wearing my underwear". A lie, but maybe he could get away with it.