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

[gotbottle]

"You just got here?" She frowns, expression full of sympathy. "I'm sorry. I mean, not that there's ever, like, any good time to arrive here but showing up with all this crap going on just isn't fair to you."

She raises her glass in salute. "Here's to your first day, then. Did you get settled in at the inn all right and everything?"

[goodeintentions]

"I did indeed," he answered to both questions, lifting his bottle in return-toast, before taking a quick sip. The sympathy was appreciated, especially from a stranger; it was very different from Bete Noire, where one was more likely to be harassed than smiled at.

"But I think it better that I arrived when I did rather than a few days sooner, given what I've heard about recent infestations of giant ants, exploding fungus, and violent swarms of crows."

[gotbottle]

"Oh, my god, yes," she replies, shaking her head. "That was a mess. All of it. I want to hope that this last thing, with the ants and the fungus and all that, is the last of it, but something tells me this place is full of dubious excitement and we should be ready for more crap like this."

She sips from her drink and then she shakes her head slightly--no point being totally discouraging with someone so new to the city. "Anyway. Did you get settled in at the inn all right? Got a room and your allowance and so forth?"

[goodeintentions]

"Yes, Ma'am, I did," assured Aimery, suddenly feeling very much like his mother was checking up on him, though Rachel was far too young and crass to truly remind him of his mother. That was a good thing, he suspected. "I've a nice little room overlooking the courtyard. How long have you been in the city, if I might ask?"

Long enough to feel that ants wouldn't be the last 'of it', but that she implied she'd been around without craziness gave him some little smidgen of hope.

[gotbottle]

"Oh, that sounds totally nice. I had a room over the street, alas."

She sips from her drink, thinking a moment--has she really been here so long that she has to think how long it's been? "Three months? Maybe a little bit more. It seems like longer, sometimes. And it also still feels like it just happened."

Rachel shrugs. She's more settled in by the day, even as she works on not giving up hope of a way out. "It wasn't so bad at first. Weird, and it took some getting used to, but things were pretty quiet. Then one round of monsters and disasters, then this latest one. I'd like to think this is the end of it, but who really knows?"