come and spend some time with mr. wrong

[theworstmagician]

Who: Marty, Will and OPEN
What: Mr. Hair tries to loot shops and fight monsters.
Where: Various places.
When: Any time over the course of the plot
Notes: This is a generic opening for Marty; you can assume he's doing this to several shops, so if you want to tag in, feel free to pick and choose what kind of shop you find him in.
Warnings: Violence, probably.

Some people never learn. Marty Williams is one of those people. In the past few days, he's used more magic than he had in weeks. This meant that it was bound to come crashing down on him somehow-- the fun was in finding out how and when. Hell, for all Marty knew, his magic didn't work the same in Baedal. Maybe it was easier to manage. Really, he wouldn't know unless he tried.

So, when he touches a doorknob and focuses his mind on disorder and disintegration, concentrates on shifting the smallest particles that made up the metal, tampering with the doorknob at its basest levels, he's really just testing the limits of his magic.

All things fall apart. He's just speeding up the process in three... two...

He jiggles the knob, smirking to himself when the door easily comes open. Sucks for the shopkeeper, whoever he is-- his lock's thoroughly broken now. 'Course, he probably has bigger things to worry about right now, like the bone dragon Marty saw flying around earlier.

Keeping a firm grip on his bloodied lead pipe, Marty enters the shop and begins looking around for valuables to loot.

He'd make a joke about being from New Orleans right now-- hey, this is how we roll in a post-Katrina world-- but the truth is: Marty's never looted anything before showing up in... what's this place called again? Beedle or something.

(Way to pay attention, Marty.)

Whatever, it's Monsterville now. And even though he's new to the whole "pillaging and plundering" business, Marty's finding that it comes surprisingly naturally to him. Maybe because this kind of thing's easy to do when the world's going to hell.

Comments

[thethingsidoforlove]

"If you drink anymore of it, a boy like you might leave it behind whether you wish it or not."

What's a little liquor-related ribbing between--

No, Jaime doesn't make friends easily; possibly because he threatens people with swords, but in fairness, looting is as forgivable in medieval Westoros as it is in monster-torn Baedal. He has no frame of reference, naturally, of a flooded New Orleans. His smile is natural, there, but a little crooked; green eyes flick towards the direction that Marty indicates.

"Bribery? With a currency that isn't yours to be traded. I admire your enterprise. But no, I came in here to deal with you. Abandon what you have," he says, and this time, removes his sword from its sheath, "or I shall win back all you've taken. One way or another."

He doesn't have a badge, though. It doesn't appear to be a concern for Jaime.

[theworstmagician]

Now Marty gets why people are all "Fuck the police," because this guy is totally harshing his buzz here. He regards his bottle, then the man-- who, let's not kid ourselves here, can totally follow up on his threats-- then the bottle again. This shouldn't be such a difficult choice. But, damn it, he earned this, and it's the freaking end of the world. A man's entitled to a free drink or two (or more).

"Fine," he says finally, holding the bottle up placatingly. "You got me."

Yup, time to pack it up and head on out.

"Catch." Marty tosses the bottle at the other man-- well, it's a little harder than a toss, but not quite a throw. He's not looking to actually bean the medieval cop with a glass bottle or anything. All he's after is a quick diversion so he can grab his bag and start for the back room.