hellhouse | (no subject)

WHO: Carol Danvers & Klaus Hargreeves
WHAT: Arrival and meeting
WHEN: Day one, Early morning
WARNINGS: TBD - likely language

This night ain't for the faint of heart 'cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart

Her neck is stiff. That's the first conscious thought that truly hit's Carol's brain. Granted, it's followed directly by taking in everything around her from the table set up to the fact that she isn't alone. And that her current companion isn't dressed in the everyday digs that Carol always prefers. "Hey, are you all right?" She ventures the question out toward the man - the only one in the room with her - as she moves to shove her chair backward, already moving to rise to her feet.

It's that movement that draws her attention to what she's currently wearing - and the concern is quickly met head-to-head with an overwhelming annoyance. "You've got to be fucking kidding me..." There's no way in hell she's doing anything in these pink, glittery heels. The blonde kicks them off - as if their very existence offends her entire being, which it sure as hell does - at the same moment that the pre-recorded voice starts, the start of the record punctuated by the thwack of that damn heel. And Carol pauses, one bright pink sparkly and strappy heel on and the other where it landed across the room, she focuses on what is being said.

The more information the better, no matter the fact that she's in a ruffled pink and blue sparkly and multi-layed monstrosity with straps that she feels like the girls upstairs just might flop out of. Whoever picked this, whoever made this, and whoever chose this deserves to have the damn thing force-fed to them as far as Carol Danvers is concerned. What's wrong withs omething simple? Did the damn thing need four layers of ruffle, sparkles and bling all over the bodice, and the deep-v in the front? Really?

Shaking that from her mind, the frown on her face only deepens, right fist clenching and beginning to glow from emotional response alone. Never leave her ass. It's on the thinnest bit of control that she has left that Carol keeps herself from smashing the record player to smitherines.....that and the fact that looking downa t her first causes the light emitting from her other arm to catch her attention. "What the hell is this shit?" The question is rhetorical - she figures that her companion probably doesn't know what's going on any better than she does, but if her initial assumption is wrong he's not going to be very happy with his choice in person to mess with.

Because Carol Danvers is pissed for multiple reasons - and somehow the least of which is that someone stripped her out of her clothes and dressed her in something else, somehow. Someone experimented on her - put tech in her arm and after everything that happened with the Kree Carol swore not to let anything of the sort happen again, so she's not going to settle down into this quietly. She's angry. And when she's angry and backed into a corner she blasts her way out.

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"Aww, you're so sweet!" he says in a suddenly falsetto, those hands still clutched to his chest with those words. "I've definitely been called worse, so you know--" he spreads his hands in a big, nearly full-body shrug. "I'll take it!" And as a win, at that, because he knows exactly how much worse than 'odd' that kind of descriptor could have gotten.

He laughs a little in a delighted, nearly child-like awed kind of way as she explains. He claps his hands together and jumps up once. "Well, fire that puppy up and let's go, then, right?!"

The snort that comes out is entirely unlady-like, but it's genuine as the corners of Carol's mouth upturn ever so slightly. Well, he's one of a kind, but it turns out that that's easy for her to find amusement in, at the very least. But he seems like a guy that, though out there, is pretty easy to like. And that's something given their current situation. It'd be worse to be stuck with a major asshole. Then again, Carol doesn't put up with major assholes. "Well, now that we've got that established." Carol speaks as she moves toward the exit, rolling her eyes as the damn dress gets caught on a chair along the way.

Stopping, she can't quite help but grit her teeth as she disentangles herself and then moves to reach for the offending bits of fabric - completely intending on ripping them off. She'd rather be in a while hell of a lot less than walk around with all of this extra fabric and fluff that is going to be a massive hindrance. She's a soldier not a pageant girl. "One sec - some of this has to go first." She offers the explanation, blowing a piece of hair that's fallen into her face back.

She's more focused on ripping the thing, and what the plan will be over anything else at the moment. "Either way I figure if we find an outer wall or the front door - no matter what kind of reinforcement I should be able to get through it."