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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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"Jim. Jim Kirk."
It's nice not to have to launch into the whole Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship etc etc spiel, for once.
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Both are equally worth the party, as far as Tosh is concerned. After all, she spent the time safely ensconced behind the wards of Hellsing's headquarters.
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The smile comes back and he holds up a hand. "Let me get that beer. Don't go anywhere, Toshiko. My seat's depending on you."
He vanishes momentarily into the crowd.
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She nods in agreement as Jim heads off on his beer errand, and after a moment turns and plonks her feet up on the seat of the other chair, just to be sure no one gets any ideas. That is, of course, assuming he actually intends to return, which Tosh doesn't necessarily take for granted.
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Jim returns with a beer in each hand and the brightest grin on his face, because clearly this is awesome. "Now that's a proper defense of property. Done with style! I like it."
He holds out a beer for her to take. "As promised. A beer for a seat."
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"Why thank you, Mr. Kirk," she laughs. This might be the best party she's been to in a long time. "So what do you plan to do while you're here besides fight giant insects?"
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"Plan?" He shrugs a bit, sipping from his beer. "Don't really have one beyond 'get out of here and get home to my ship'. They tell me I can't but I've never been big on listening to what 'they' say. I need to try."
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"If there's a way in, there's a way out. I mean, this isn't my first time in one of these places, so there's pretty good evidence right there." Then something specific in Jim's statement hits her, and her expression grows both curious and wary. "What sort of ship?"
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He smiles a proud little smile as he answers her question. "She's a Constitution-class Starship, the Federation's Flagship. Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise, at your service."
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Oh. A spaceship. That makes her even warier -- sure, he looks human, but so did Mary. "What planet are you from?"
Sometimes it's easy for Tosh to forget that not all aliens are out to kill you and nest in your remains, or destroy the existence of your entire timeline on a whim. But he does seem nice... (but then, so did Mary).
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"Earth," he says. "I was born and raised in Riverside, Iowa. I enlisted in Starfleet in 2255 and was commissioned Captain of my ship in 2258. It had just turned 2259 right before I wound up here."
A pause, and then: "...I'm human, in case that was going to be your next question."
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It sounds pretty prejudiced, she knows, but being dropped unceremoniously into a new dimension has caused some of the old gut reactions to kick in. "You know...it's sort of funny, now that I think on it -- all the Captains I know have names starting with J. They're all more than a bit flirty, too."
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Tosh smiles at the question about Captains, glancing out into the crowd for a moment as if looking for someone. "Well, one would be my former boss, Captain Jack Harkness. Who's actually around here somewhere. And the other would be his former...partner, I guess, Captain John Hart. Who I suspect is sort of indirectly the reason I'm here."
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He follows her gaze into the crowd. And for a moment there's another pang of homesickness, of longing. Not that he'd wish this fate on anyone but it must be a comfort not to be alone here.
"Really. Why do you think this Captain John Hart is behind you being here?"
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"Well not directly, of course, but he's responsible for the series of events that led to me being shot and killed. Not that I'd be immune to inter-dimensional kidnapping if that hadn't happened -- I mean, Jack and Ianto are here, after all -- but this is their first, and it's my third. And I think if I'd been able to go back home after the first, chances are better that it wouldn't have happened again."
For all the talk about her own death, Tosh seems very at ease with topic.
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"Let me make sure I'm following you--this is the third one of these places you've been dragged into?" he asks, keeping his tone light. "Damn. I guess I should stop complaining."
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He turns his face, leaning in ever so slightly. "And you." His tone completely, obviously is trying to imply that she's the most interesting one of all.
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"I've met a handful of...very nice, normal-seeming people." None of whom actually are, but it's not like they wear signs proclaiming TELEPATH or SERIAL KILLER or SUPERVILLAIN. "And you."
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"Well, maybe we can trade off. I can start meeting the normal ones and you can start meeting the colorful ones."
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