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multiversallogs2011-08-08 08:05 pm
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.
no subject
Brie cocked up an eyebrow. She could feel his predator's taint. This guy was kindred.
no subject
"Maybe I need to stop buying such big matches, hein?"
no subject
"A martini please," she said to the bartender. Brie secretly wondered what new drinks people have come up, but she wasn't going to embarrass herself by asking.
Then, as the drink was slid towards her on the counter, she glanced at Réjean and asked, "Are you...Mr. Sept-Heure by any chance?"
no subject
no subject
"I'm just wondering why an acquaintance of mine would ask that, if I ever met you, I should slap you."
Brie blinked, in anticipation.
no subject
no subject
"I wouldn't be so quick to void option one, but I agree, it's probably option three."
Brie wondered what clan he was. Probably Daeva.
no subject
"There we go then. Are you going to insult your host and slap him now?" C'mon, bring a fight into the Apache, let's see how well it goes.
no subject
"I'm sure that if you deserve it, I wouldn't hesitate. But frankly, you haven't done anything I thought was slap-worthy yet."
She finished her glass, tipped the bartender and stood up. She could see why Anna wouldn't like the guy. But Brie wasn't here to make enemies -- yet. Plus Réjean reminded Brie of a regular 1930s mobster, and she
washad been friends with many of those.no subject
"As a piece of gentle, well-intentioned advice, if your young little friends get a couple of drinks in you and say that you should go chat up the bogeyman at the bar, find some new friends."
no subject
Brie pursed her lips. "Well Mr. Bogeyman, when that day comes, we'll see who's the butterfly."
Then, she walked into the crowd, and at least for the first few minutes, made sure her back was never completely turned to Réjean.
no subject
Looking thoroughly unconcerned by Brie's threat, he motions to the bartender and after getting the other man to lean in close whispers, 'oh yes, we'll see who's the butterfly,' before the pair of them break out into loud peals of laughter. Kids these days. What can you do?