It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

Comments

[gotbottle]

"Réjean," Rachel repeats, careful with the pronunciation. She takes a moment to sip from her drink and then she turns to Ilde with the most important of questions.

"Who is he, and is he good-looking?"

[rhinemaid]

Scanning the room, she eventually finds him in the hideous Hawaiian shirt and points him out. "Réjean Sept-Heure. You be the judge."

[gotbottle]

Rachel sits up a little straighter, craning her neck to see.

"Not bad," she declares. "Is he a friend of yours?"

[rhinemaid]

"Mmmhmmn. I fished him out of the river once- he brought me a picnic to say thank you." He's one of her more entertaining acquaintances and it shows through in how she talks about him; she could probably be content for an evening just poking him to see what'll come out next.

[gotbottle]

"Awww. That's cute!" Mental note--say hello to this gentleman at some point this evening, he seems interesting.

"By the way, I love those shoes. I'd so fall and bust my ass if I tried walking in them, but I love them."

[rhinemaid]

Glancing down at her feet and the shoes in question, Ilde brightens; as great as Réjean is, these heels remain closer to her heart. "I love this style- I have the same in watersnake blue, as well." There is absolutely no reason that is necessary, and yet. "Sonja showed me how to kill somebody with them," ...enjoy that blithe conversational tangent, "so I was showing them to Arthur the other day. I don't think he believed me."

Well.

[gotbottle]

Rachel is never going to say anything, ever, about anyone's conversational tangents, because she's been known to go on them herself. Fluster her or get her good and buzzed and they become more frequent. Hang out, Ilde, you might hear some yet.

"No, I believe you, I've seen it," she insists, setting her glass aside for a moment, "in a movie. I mean, like, I dunno if this is what Sonja showed you but what I saw is--" and she gestures to demonstrate-- "you drive the heel like right in the middle of their forehead and into their brain. Also--Arthur? Like this super well-dressed super serious guy? I know him! He's cool."

[rhinemaid]

"That sounds like him- he's nosy." She doesn't make that sound like a bad thing, or anything she objects to; this would just be one of Ilde's many observations, matter of fact. (And, generally, she would describe herself much the same way.)

[gotbottle]

"He is, yes." Rachel grins. "But like I can fucking talk, right? I get into everyone's business." She cares, okay. That means poking into everyone's affairs, to make sure they're all right.

[rhinemaid]

"There are worse things, anyway- than being nosy. You don't know anything if you don't ask questions." Right? Right. Ilde is perhaps overinvested in knowing what's going on around her, sometimes, but under the circumstances that's not exactly a character flaw. "For instance, I don't know if you're about to come and dance with me-?"

[gotbottle]

Rachel holds up a finger--wait a moment--and picks up her glass with her other hand. She raises it to her lips and downs what's left (a pretty significant amount, as pints of beer go) in one drag.

And then she sets the glass down, grinning. "I am. Let's do this."