Private Spa Day for a Sword

Sharpe laughed hysterically but they abstained from sharing any further jokes of that nature.

It was pretty amusing to have a conversation while in the shape of an immobile sword, and being polished and scrubbed at that. There was no body language or other nonverbal cues to be had to it was just Sharpe's mildly sarcastic and impish voice. "Great, paperwork. But whatever you need done is fine. Ain't no way i'm letting them keep me in that armory they have to store all the dumb weapons of the other kids here. I'll threaten to stage a revolt... an armed rebellion!"

"Oh, hey that tickles!" They suddenly exclaimed, and then laughed again, "nah, i'm kidding. As weird as this whole thing probably sounds, I am still just a sword."

"Gotcha, no big 'new owner' parties or bragging. I'll just let the lack of booze stains and my vastly improved mood be the only clues if you wish. So you know, apparently my chain, so to speak, is about a mile. So if you need me to disappear for a bit just say the word and i'll go drift around for a while."

Wouldn't be the first time Sharpe had to deal with something really fucked up. But then, the people on MC did seem to be pretty progressive about how they treated sapient beings.

Sharpe would've shrugged if they could but... sword. "I'm a sword, not a sniper rifle- i'm not made for long distance shit," they cackled. "Seriously though I don't know how that can be changed but right now if you run away or throw me away I just come back to you. Why, thinking about ditching me somewhere now that you've rescued me from Frank?"

It sounded like they were joking. Mostly. But their tone of voice did have the faintest hint of concern beneath the surface. Sharpe wanted more than anything else to be kept and used.

"Hey, Frank was being an asshole about it. Most of the time he was summoning me for bullshit reasons just because he could. Like opening his damn bottles and cans."

Sharpe... well basically just lay there as a conveniently motionless blade. Making it plenty easy for her to work with and floating as needed. It helped quite a bit that they were invested in not making things difficult for her.

"Listen. As long as i'm not left to rust and get some action here and there that's fine. Not interested in seeing you shitfaced and swinging anyway. Figured you'd want to show me off though- make everybody wish they had a cool talking magic sword on their hip. Or floating beside them. Probably weird to have an imp chilling on your hip." They laughed and laughed. The change in their mood from grumpy to optimistic wasn't super jarring, but it was apparent.

"Eh, don't worry about me dealing with being jerked around. Motion sickness doesn't apply to me and I don't like being too far from my wielder anyway. Well, at least not my new wielder. Coulda done with a longer chain while dealing with Frank."

Sharpe made terrible 'schwing' and other similar sounds for Maddie's benefit as she tested the weight of her new sword. For all the impishness though Sharpe was a fantastic sword, and with the new polish an oiling Maddie definitely had an excellent sword to brag about whenever she wanted.

"I'd shrug but you might lose a finger and we can't have that," they cackled before toning it back just a bit to be at least halfway serious. "Listen, i'm a sword. Without someone to hold me i'm just a useless piece of demonsteel rusting away. Frank sucked and I could live with never seeing him again, but every imp needs a purpose to fulfill. And that goes double for an imp that's a sword."

Sharpe took the opportunity to shift back into their imp form. Stretching their arms and then casually drifting up off the bed. "Plenty of time to learn how to be a pompous dick. For now you can be the young upstart with a damn Sharpe sword."

Drifting a bit so he could look over her shoulder at the papers they groaned. "Hey now, you don't own me anyways. You wield me. And if you break the contract I go away.... although apparently Frank found plenty of weird loopholes. Leave it to imps to fuck up a contract." The irony clearly intentional.

"Frank has only ever gone to the courthouse in handcuffs. Trust me. But i'm a registered citizen if that's what you mean?"