"Okay," Jeremy says agreeably to the advice the figment of his imagination is saying.
He gives Mr. Clean-Cut, Western, and Law-Enforcey (and that's the most important part, most Vegas cops really don't give a shit about weed but, you never know, sometimes you run into a dick who wants to make a quota) a smile-grimace of are you shitting me?, not exactly sure whether his leg is being pulled or not.
"Entrapment much, brother?" he asks at last, the expression giving way to full smile again. "Ninja. NINJA FU. Bruce-to-the-Lee, hi-ya, wax-on-wax-off?"
When this probably nets him absolutely no look of comprehension on Wyatt's face, Jeremy takes a few steps back and adopts the famous martial arts crane pose from a certain movie, one knee raised, balancing with his hands doing 'karate chops' in the air.
no subject
He gives Mr. Clean-Cut, Western, and Law-Enforcey (and that's the most important part, most Vegas cops really don't give a shit about weed but, you never know, sometimes you run into a dick who wants to make a quota) a smile-grimace of are you shitting me?, not exactly sure whether his leg is being pulled or not.
"Entrapment much, brother?" he asks at last, the expression giving way to full smile again. "Ninja. NINJA FU. Bruce-to-the-Lee, hi-ya, wax-on-wax-off?"
When this probably nets him absolutely no look of comprehension on Wyatt's face, Jeremy takes a few steps back and adopts the famous martial arts crane pose from a certain movie, one knee raised, balancing with his hands doing 'karate chops' in the air.
"Yeah?"