http://bonhomme7h.livejournal.com/ (
bonhomme7h.livejournal.com) wrote in
multiversallogs2011-08-08 08:05 pm
Entry tags:
- @ mog hill,
- @ mog hill: apache,
- anna demirovna,
- ava lockhart,
- charles xavier,
- hellboy,
- ilde decima,
- ivan,
- jack benjamin,
- james t. kirk,
- jones,
- npc,
- rachel conway,
- raylan givens,
- solomon koenig,
- sonja garin,
- { boromir,
- } adrian veidt,
- } aimery le gode,
- } alan shore,
- } arthur,
- } asbjørn strand,
- } brie cormac,
- } cindy,
- } edward nigma,
- } isobel saltzman,
- } jack harkness,
- } lex luthor,
- } mabel albans,
- } narcissa black,
- } njoki rainmaker,
- } pickman,
- } remy lebeau,
- } rochelle,
- } ruby van alst,
- } réjean sept-heure,
- } sebastian lemat,
- } toshiko sato,
- } wanda maximoff
It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]
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.
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.

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Two neat steps to the side avoid the inevitable anonymous hand reaching where it shouldn't, and she heads for the bar. One drink ought to be sufficient.
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"Oh, my goodness. I love your dress!" she exclaims with a bright smile. "Is that custom work? It has to be, look how well it fits you. It's beautiful."
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"Thank you," she smiles, her English accent crisp and slightly plummy. "Yes, it's custom-made; all my dresses are bespoke, I'd nothing other than what I arrived in."
Blue eyes flit to the striped dress, then to the cocktail, then back up to the other girl's smiling face.
"Yours is very nice, too - such lovely colours."
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"I'm very sorry, I interrupted you." She glances at the bartender, holding up a hand to stay him. "May I get you a drink?"
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It's also unused to being offered a drink by a lady (and by virtue of her complimentary behaviour and nice manners, Narcissa will deem her as such for now), but tonight is a night for coming out of one's shell. To a point.
And to that end, "Champagne would be lovely. Or... whatever that pink concoction you're drinking is."
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She feels it's the least she can do, for interrupting. Also, it's a night for celebrating--why not share?
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"Why not," she agrees, returning the smile. It's not full, but it's definitely there. "If we're to celebrate our continued survival, it should be colourful, hmm?"
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"And I'm Ava. It's nice to meet you."
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It's her standard reply, and if it doesn't command the respect she's used to, then it's because she's slightly distracted as she watches the bartender mix her drink. There's rather a lot of alcohol going into that glass.
"...I probably should have eaten."
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She raises her eyebrows at Narcissa's words, following her gaze. "Take it slowly," she confides. "I've been sipping at this same one for half an hour so I don't fall over or anything."
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"I see... perhaps I should procure a seat as a precautionary measure."
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She waited for her new drinking companion to settle onto the stool and then she smiled again. "Have you been here in the city long?" It was the standard question one asked when meeting someone new, she'd found; it gave everyone a common point for conversation.
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"Thank you..." And a nod to the barkeep as her drink is presented. She sips cautiously, then smiles when it's not nearly as horrid as she expected something so garish to be. "A couple of months. There were people here I already knew, which made settling in less of a chore. And yourself?"
Ah, chit chat.
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She frowns.
"I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding utterly mad."
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"I think a lot must go on in this place that makes one sound utterly mad." She smiles. "I've seen and experienced enough in my own life, and here, to make me very wary of dismissing anyone as mad right away."
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So when the young woman approaches, Isobel turns easily, but only slightly in her direction, and offers a small smile. "Nice night for a party, isn't it?" She's not one for small talk usually, but tonight is a special occasion.
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"As nice as any other," she replies, her words crisp but her tone pleasant. "At the very least, it's good for morale."
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Isobel's tone is fairly straight, even, almost indifferent at times, with very little emotional inflection. That's just how she is, taking too much time and energy to show and feel as little emotion as possible.
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A small smile and a raised eyebrow has the attention of the barkeep, and he begins to move their way.
"You'll forgive me if I don't roll out the welcome wagon."
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The barkeep's movement is noted by Isobel without her even moving or glancing up at him. The joys of having vampire hearing, she'll never get tired of them.
"It's not a very welcoming place."
Which is to say that not many people have been very welcoming and it's not the type of place many people would want to be welcomed to.
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"No, it isn't," she agrees, tone even, giving nothing away. Her hearing is perfectly human, and she waits for the man to be within easy speaking range before she orders a drink, careful to keep her request generic.
"But the company occasionally makes up for that."
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"I suppose this is the point where a polite person would offer her name," she comments casually. Normally, she wouldn't even bother, but... more for the sake of appearances, she'll do so now. "My name is Isobel."
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"Narcissa Black, how do you do."
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"It's a pleasure to meet you, Narcissa," Isobel responds with a slight smile in return. "And perhaps we'll meet again."
She's getting bored with this party. Not necessarily the company - okay, that's a lie, too - but the party in general isn't holding her attention anymore.