Talking to Mr.D

"Yes sir", I run out.

I enter an hour later. "Dad she told us the prophecy.

Kelli:
I walk in, see Mr. D, preoccupied with his magazine. I creep over to his desk, glancing up at the pudgy face, nothing. My fingers slowly crawl up the side of the desk, now just two inches away from the handle on the cabinet labled, CONFIDENTIAL FILES THAT ARE CERTANTLY NOT PLANS FOR SOMETHING EVIL OR TO ELIMINATE ANY OF YOU BRATS,
I'm gathering up my nerve, I slowly wrap my hands around the black piece of plastic, then Mr. D started to close his magazine...
With a yelp, I burst out the front door, knocking over his soda, and leaving a dent against the desk, thinking, Kat, if you think something's fishy, you steal his files, because I don't want to end up getting beat up by those crazy women flailing thorny plants!

ooc: Nike.. you cant do that...

lol wow......

OOC:When talking in a form like this without a charrie use OOC

OOC: This claming as been authorized

I come in and a hollagrphic trophy with the name Nike above my head. "Mr.D I just got claimed by the godess Nike, but I don't know wht cabin number to go to?" I say

Dionysus sighed and set his copy of The New York Times down on his desk. Why did he have to deal with all these insufferable interruptions? Monster attacks, food poisoning, pretentious children demanding to visit their parents. It was like the universe was dead-set against him finishing the Comics section.

He have the demigod a one-over. "If you'd like, I can arrange your death. Always a reliable mode of transport to the Underworld..."

A cold, steely glint entered Mr. D's eye, and he rose to his feet. A ominous sort of silence echoed in the room for several moments, and then was broken by the low, angry voice of a very P.O.'d god.

"You dare to threaten me, demigod!?" he raged. "I, a god of Olympus, who has more power in my smallest toe than you will EVER have in your miserable life?!"

Vines started to creep from the corners of the room, towards the foolhardy half-blood, and the atmosphere began to shift slowly to a deep wine-red hue. Funnily enough, it was also the color of blood.

Dionysus would have smote the insolent child right there, but he was interrupted by someone else entering the room. As quickly as the plants had crept in, they faded away again and things returned to their normal shade.

"Yes, it's a bad time."

With that, Mr. D used his godly powers to shove the stupid half-blood out the door with a burst of awesomely god-moddy force.

And then he slammed the door, too mad to care that Sorlon was sort of in the doorway, and vanished in case the brat came back.

He would have smashed her to a pulp, but he didn't want another few years added to his miserable sentencing.