>> Stab secateurs into roof for purchase
Frightfully embarrassingly, you seem to have found yourself gravitationally inconvenienced. Any normal civilian could be forgiven for winding up in such a position; after all, the disgusting morass of peasants and agents of the elderly woman around you are not equipped with unreasonably practical wellingtons, nor do they command the help of Drainpipe Von Staffen or Ashley. It would be a miracle if any of them could manage to get onto the roof of a calmly driven car at all, let alone try to stamp a hole in it.
For you, however, things are different. A veteran of many high profile cases, including the case of Public Ainsley, Secret Drainpipe, you should know better than to lose your balance or fail to adhere to a roof. As you careen towards the point of no return, which takes bloody ages to get back from, your mind reels that this might be what finally delivers you to calamity on the tarmac. If you can sleep in a church toilet, break into a safe, and indulge in an early morning secateur frenzy, all with half a train carriage's worth of springs in your pockets, then to be brought low by something as banal as roof-walking gone wrong is shameful.
A light switches on in your brain. Secateurs can snatch victory from the jaws of any defeat, much like they snatch buds and twigs from bushes in their own jaws. You recall with perfect clarity how your last pair of secateurs easily punched a hole in the vicar's bible; it can't be any different to jam them into a hatchback's bodywork.
Pursuing this example of perfectly sound logic, you hurriedly rummage through your towel, feeling the fabric of both the drying implement and the dress forced over it pull tight. It's a snug fit at the best of times, and the quantity of treasure & weaponry within the folds does nothing to make navigability any easier. With an alacrity that really spits in the face of modern backpack designers, you manage to get a hold of the secateurs, pull them free, and deliver an almighty downward stab into the roof.
There's a horrifying puncturing sound, like someone rupturing a tin of beans using a colleague's collarbone, but the spike holds fast. You feel your shoulder jerk painfully as your whole bodyweight and all of its momentum are arrested by the gardening tool. You are no longer sliding towards the precipice, but Ashley's slalom below is causing you to pivot like a pendulum, backwards and forwards across the roof. If this goes on for too much longer then you fear that your dress might get ruffled, or you'll pick up a friction burn on your chin.
You wonder to yourself how Ashley has reacted to seeing a blade stab through the roof of the car. Last time anything like that happened it'd been a real nightmare with the insurance company, so presumably it won't be a popular happenstance. Then again, the last time you had a near miss with a moving vehicle, namely the time you cut your way onto the train tracks with a ceremonial dagger, Ashley had been rather displeased, forcing you to promise that you wouldn't do something so dangerous again. As you trail from the car like a kite in a strong wind, holding on by one hand and a half-inch of gardening tool only, you feel the warm sensation of a promise ably kept.
For you, however, things are different. A veteran of many high profile cases, including the case of Public Ainsley, Secret Drainpipe, you should know better than to lose your balance or fail to adhere to a roof. As you careen towards the point of no return, which takes bloody ages to get back from, your mind reels that this might be what finally delivers you to calamity on the tarmac. If you can sleep in a church toilet, break into a safe, and indulge in an early morning secateur frenzy, all with half a train carriage's worth of springs in your pockets, then to be brought low by something as banal as roof-walking gone wrong is shameful.
A light switches on in your brain. Secateurs can snatch victory from the jaws of any defeat, much like they snatch buds and twigs from bushes in their own jaws. You recall with perfect clarity how your last pair of secateurs easily punched a hole in the vicar's bible; it can't be any different to jam them into a hatchback's bodywork.
Pursuing this example of perfectly sound logic, you hurriedly rummage through your towel, feeling the fabric of both the drying implement and the dress forced over it pull tight. It's a snug fit at the best of times, and the quantity of treasure & weaponry within the folds does nothing to make navigability any easier. With an alacrity that really spits in the face of modern backpack designers, you manage to get a hold of the secateurs, pull them free, and deliver an almighty downward stab into the roof.
There's a horrifying puncturing sound, like someone rupturing a tin of beans using a colleague's collarbone, but the spike holds fast. You feel your shoulder jerk painfully as your whole bodyweight and all of its momentum are arrested by the gardening tool. You are no longer sliding towards the precipice, but Ashley's slalom below is causing you to pivot like a pendulum, backwards and forwards across the roof. If this goes on for too much longer then you fear that your dress might get ruffled, or you'll pick up a friction burn on your chin.
You wonder to yourself how Ashley has reacted to seeing a blade stab through the roof of the car. Last time anything like that happened it'd been a real nightmare with the insurance company, so presumably it won't be a popular happenstance. Then again, the last time you had a near miss with a moving vehicle, namely the time you cut your way onto the train tracks with a ceremonial dagger, Ashley had been rather displeased, forcing you to promise that you wouldn't do something so dangerous again. As you trail from the car like a kite in a strong wind, holding on by one hand and a half-inch of gardening tool only, you feel the warm sensation of a promise ably kept.
- Attempt to finish the sunroof using secateurs
- Hold on, and enjoy the rest of the ride
- Attempt to swing excitingly through the rear windscreen
- Press torso into roof to check inventory and stats