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

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"I make them into nothing at all; either they are already reasonable creatures or they are unmade." Simple as that. Réjean likes much of what he's seen in Baedal and won't have his freedom taken away by some barely self-aware leech. It's a sin to kill another of the Kindred, but when they're so stupid that they can't even manage to buy their own food, they're hardly even sentient and their neat, forgotten little deaths don't trouble his conscience.

"Is there? I'll be sure to be welcoming."

[rhinemaid]

Sinners, aren't we all.

His answer suits her, either way; she adds, guilelessly, "You seem to know how things work around here." She has a knack for that twist of perfectly innocent that she probably shouldn't - someone who can lie that well when she puts her mind to it oughtn't be allowed to.

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

He won't speak to the universal scale, but everyone Réjean has met has been a sinner.

"It's one talent among many and has taken not a little time." There's a high turnover among newcomers, which has gone a long way to helping settle Réjean into the city, but even so, with only a quarter of a century in Baedal he knows that quite a few vampires still consider him too new to associate with.

[rhinemaid]

"What are your other talents?" Is that her third question? Sure.

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"I can make lemon squares and I brought them to a church potluck once." Imagine that. "But the rest, well, you've seen more than most."

He's referring to the glamour she saw when he was shot and dumped over the railing of a boat.

[rhinemaid]

"That was clever," she recalls- she'd liked that, generally in favour of the more creative uses of illusion. (Hers are mostly just keeping white dresses pristine and hiding her own true appearance, but it's always nice to branch out.)

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"I'm often clever. Sometimes too clever," he says either letting the illusion drop or bringing one up to show a nasty old hangman's scar around his neck.

[rhinemaid]

Ilde has to resist the impulse to reach out and poke him in the throat; that's not very polite. (Less polite than grabbing his ass and judging it subpar? Well, apparently.) It is very tempting, though, and her hand twitches before she picks her glass back up instead. "You're a troublemaker, that's what you are."

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"Born and bred. Would you want me any other way?" He runs his hand over the scarring and it vanishes just as easily as he called it up. "And, are you satisfied with your answers?"

[rhinemaid]

"For now," she decides, sipping from her drink. There is no end to her curiosity, not really, but she's the patient kind; she doesn't push. She waits, and she watches, and she loves to listen.