Arthur

[The communicator clicks on at an odd angle, like it's just been haphazardly tossed to the ground.  Luckily, you get an artsy view of Arthur's couch, which currently has a fourteen-year-old Arthur dancing on it, all gangly and grunge-chic. He's singing-- or... screaming-- along to some Nirvana and getting his dirty shoes all over the couch.]
 
Grandma take me home, Grandma take me home, Grandma take me hooooome!
 
[And then he sort of stumbles off the couch in a heap, laughing, as the song winds down and the next one comes on.  What's this?  Oh, Arthur's drunk off of... Arthur's liquor collection.  You can see an empty bottle of whiskey rolling around in the background if you're paying attention.  He props himself up on his elbows and reaches out to grab the communicator, bringing it clooose to his face, grinning, giggling a little.]
 
Hey, hey... HEY.  Anyone-- anyone got... some smokes?  I'll traaaaade. [He snorts with laughter, then drops his head down, thinking, and pulls it up again with a little frown.]  Dude.  Hey.  Dude.  Why're there... there so many fuckin' kids here?
 
[BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT A KID, ARTHUR.]
 
I say-- I-- I think... everyone who's like, not a kid? Should come here. [He rolls onto his back, laughing with glorious intoxication, and fumbles around with the communicator, so you're getting some tilty angles and shaky-cam going now.]  We could party.  [He raises his brow, as though he's just noticed that the music's still playing, and he's suddenly VERY EXCITED.] Whooo!  [And with that, he starts singing the next song and finally manages to click the communicator off.]
 
[OOC: Arthur was a terrible kid :c]

[This is Arthur. This is Arthur leaning against a closet door, his suit slightly rumpled (in fact, there's a tear in one of his sleeves), his hair out of place. Still, he carries himself like this is PERFECTLY NORMAL. Oh yeah, and he's holding a pool cue. Before he speaks, Arthur smooths his hair back.]

To the library staff: sorry. I left a few books out of place. I'll come by as soon as possible to put them back.

[From the closet, there's suddenly an outburst of loud banging and intermittent swears. Very creative swears. Arthur rolls his head back against the door and then throws an irritated look over his shoulder, as though the closet's occupant can see, before turning back to the camera.]

Blonde. Female. [BANG BANG. There's probably a "cocksucker" there, too.] About five foot... one? [He holds the cue out horizontally, five feet from the ground, to illustrate.] I'd say... twelve years old?

Does she belong to anybody? Or do we often receive unsupervised children?

[OOC: After THIS THREAD. Arthur was trying to find somewhere secure to put Mindy until she regained consciousness, but she woke up in his arms and started attacking him again, SO HE SHOVED HER IN THE CLOSEST ROOM: A RANDOM CLOSET.]