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

[cailisairgid]

"I'd go barefoot more often if I could get away with it, actually," he says, speculatively, good-natured and aware of having misstepped somehow, if not exactly how; the slightly concerned incomprehension is pretty genuine, to the observant, as is his desire to not have to wear shoes. Or clothes, for that matter: "Naturist at heart, lawyer at wallet."

[fuckyouboots.livejournal.com]

"Hippie by nature, dirty bloodsucking sleazebag by occupation you mean." That's all said in good fun, though Cindy hates Mundy lawyers as much as she hates anybody else. She's still suspicious of Sol altogether, but as long as he doesn't keep up the antics, she'll let it slide.

For now.

[cailisairgid]

"Environmental law," he protests, feigning a wounded look - he makes half the lawyer jokes about him himself, though, so no hard feelings on his part. (It's irresistible, sometimes, his life is ridiculous.) "Back home, anyway. I currently enjoy the privilege of being at Sir Integra's beck and call."

In Baedal he's a jack of all trades, better known as 'Whatever Integra Decides My Job Is Today', and in Bete Noire he dipped his toes in supernatural criminal justice. (Inventing precedent by the seat of his pants was actually almost fun, and pulling it off was pretty good, too.)

[fuckyouboots.livejournal.com]

Now that gets a loud full laugh. "A fucking hippie lawyer fighting the good fight for the trees. You just get worse the more you talk."

Cindy could ask who Sir Integra is and why she's called Sir, but that's a different conversation for a different day. Right now, she's trying to piece Sol out and figure out what exactly he knows. She plays off her nosy picking by pulling a pack of cigarettes out from her jacket pocket, tapping the corner of the box on the edge of her palm.

"I would offer you one but it'll probably hurt your precious ozone layer."

[cailisairgid]

Sol doesn't quite laugh himself - he just tends not to, as a rule, it's a bit of a red letter day when something merits more than one of those wolfish smiles he's so good at - but he grins at her, with a little chuff of air that'll have to serve in its place. "I've been quitting for about fifteen years," he says, cheerfully self-skewering. He would say the nicotine habit came before the hippie attitude, but in fairness, he was always an avid gardener.

Slightly inexplicably, to those who also knew him as a boisterous teenager inclined to beaten up boots, old black jeans, and other people's girls.

[fuckyouboots.livejournal.com]

Didn't Cindy make him laugh once? Well then that's one success under her belt.

"Why quit when you're going to die anyway?" She means him, not her. Cindy has other ways to die and as far as she can see it, none of them will come near her anytime soon. He gets offered the cigarette, but he's a big boy who can light his own. "Might as well have fun before you kick it," she finishes after pulling on the tobacco stick like her life depended on it.

Addict.

[cailisairgid]

"Well, who am I to contradict a lady?" An argumentative son of a bitch? But not when the lady is so brilliantly articulating his own perspective - he keeps meaning to quit, because a Verbena priest who's constantly lighting up is more than a little off, but every time he gets sure he's going to do it, his life takes a sharp left turn into 'fuck me I need a smoke to deal with this'. He's not really even bothering with the pretense much any more except as a punchline.

He lights the cigarette with a raised hand of thanks, pocketing his lighter again and finally taking the bourbon shot; it's a busy night and the bartender had other orders to go through before his.

[fuckyouboots.livejournal.com]

"Only an asshole does. You might be a lawyer, but I haven't seen any asshole tendencies show up yet." Showing all her teeth with that smile, somebody could be confused whether Cindy's a shark or flirting. Neither right now, but after a few more shots, who knows what role she'll be playing.

Tapping the tip of her cigarette over her empty glass, she watches the ashes fall into the few drop of vodka that remain. "How's the little one holding up here? Ants give her bad dreams?"

Okay, sue her, but Cindy actually likes kids and is rather concerned for them on occasion. Leave her alone.

[cailisairgid]

"I have my moments." But don't we all, says his smile, and moments later he's running his free hand over the back of his neck, leaning his hip against the barstool beside him and tilting his head in a kind of so-so gesture in answer to her question about Liesl. "But, yeah, perk of the job is the great childcare- she was in the guild hall, out of the way, we let her play with the puppies-" hellhounds, "-and she had a ball."

At least someone did, right?

"It's the people she remembers that don't know her that are tripping her up," he admits, after a moment. "That's rough on a four year old." There's also not much he can do about it, but he's doing his best.

[fuckyouboots.livejournal.com]

Too bad that someone who had fun was a pre-schooler.

"Tell her they fell and bumped their head and sometimes people get stupid from brain damage." These are the types of things Cindy probably would tell her own child and that is why no one should let her have any. Another long pull and she chuckles ruefully. "Apparently, the forgetting and recognizing is a common theme here for both sides. Chalk it up to the proverbial twin everybody has."

[cailisairgid]

Stepping clear of someone else coming up to the bar to order puts Sol more in front of Cindy than beside, and he lingers there for the sake of conversation, keeping a half an eye on the wider room. (Some people he knows - a lot of people he doesn't.) "Yeah, I noticed that. Like life really needed to be that much more interesting." He exhales smoke, and there's not really a direction in which he can aim it so as to not bother anyone, but at the very least he's not blowing it in Cindy's face.

[fuckyouboots.livejournal.com]

Cindy knows none of these people. She's acquainted with some, about a handful, but she can't say she recognizes them from anywhere. This leaves her somewhat uneasy because Dawn knows her by name and face. God knows who else recognized her off the bat and just didn't say anything. It's never a good thing to have the playing field left so uneven.

"But if it wasn't, you'd be bitching and moaning that it's boring and you'd be reduce to playing tea party with Barbie and some Care Bears to be entertained," she chuckles, not really minding if he did blow the smoke in her fact. It's not like she doesn't have a stick with a cherry red tip at the end slipped between her lips. "Sounds like a horrid life to lead."