Quoted By:
You must have <span class="mu-i">JUST</span> cleared the steps when it hits: that’s right…
<span class="mu-s">LEG CRAAAAAAMP!</span>
Having spent most of the voyage battling <span class="mu-s">SEA SICKNESS</span> while watching over your pizzas like a very confused hawk, you didn’t exactly have time to stretch before going after, well, who<span class="mu-i">ever</span> you’re running after.
With the grace of a toppled ice sculpture, you quite literally hit the deck for the second time in the last few seconds with a dull ‘<span class="mu-s">THUD</span>’ and spend a few moments lying there in silent self-loathing before you feel something poke at your leg.
“Hey. <span class="mu-i">Heeeey</span>. You alive down there, slick?”
You respond to the mysterious female voice with a half-hearted shrug.
“Well sheesh, I’m not going to run If you’re gonna break your <span class="mu-i">neck</span> chasing after me! C’mon, now, wake up and smell the pizza…”
A decent person would probably help you up, but when your Good Samaritan continues to kick your leg it dawns on you that she might not <span class="mu-i">be</span> a decent person. Peeling yourself off the deck, you look up to find a petite redhead looming over you wearing a simple black vest, a white shirt, and a plaid skirt that reaches down to her knees.
“Watch the camera angle there, creep.”
Right, sorry! Averting your gaze from where her skirt meets her knees, your eyes narrow at the laminated index card hanging from a lanyard around her neck-the word ‘<span class="mu-s">PRESS</span>’ emblazoned in bold <span class="mu-s">ARIAL FONT.</span>
… and narrow <span class="mu-i">more</span> when you notice the <span class="mu-s">CAMERA</span> she has hidden behind her back!
>CONTD.
