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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.
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There's a smell, yeah, but this is a bar, that's to be expected. Besides, another drink and she won't even notice.
"I don't think I introduced myself properly when we were talking earlier. I'm Rachel."
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He takes the stool, hooking one hoof between two of the legs, and offers her a hand, nails pointed and yellow, with dirt and paint in all the cracks and crevices. "Got here just when the fuckin' ants showed up. Hell of an introduction."
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But she frowns at his last statement. "That sucks. I mean, it's not like there's any really good time for getting kidnapped into some crazy-ass city, but getting dumped into the place in the middle of that is especially messed up. I'm sorry."
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It's more than just polite interest and conversation that makes her ask. She's still trying to work out if there's any pattern to how people wind up here, and desperately hoping the answer is anything but "no".
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Is it random? Meaningless? That'd be worse, in a way--if there's no pattern and no meaning there may be no making sense of this, ever.
"Are you still at the inn or did you find somewhere else already?"
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Either he still hasn't been clued in to Njkoi's gender, or he's being deliberately weird and obtuse.
"You?"
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And out of the inn, away from prying eyes and the odd Militia raid...
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