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]

For all that Sol dresses well these days - tailored, well-cut clothes in good fabrics - it somehow still manages to have the air of sartorial laziness. (Various ex-girlfriends helped hone his look over the years and he leaves it at that, sticking with what works because otherwise he's indifferent to the whole thing. Wouldn't it be nice if he could be a nudist? As far as he's concerned, yes.)

On the other hand, without jacket, shirt-sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone, the effect of his overall look with the tattoo, earring and assorted visible and semi-visible scarring- well, it's more 'European gangster' than 'highly paid lawyer'. Can't be helped.

"One of our recent mission heroes?" If asked, he will claim he's just that attentive to ginger body language, but he can actually tell the bruising is there with senses Joe Average does not have.

[alan_shore]

Alan chuckles, though it creates scarcely a ripple in the noise of the crowd, then winces--the merest twitch at the corner of his mouth--and raises his glass to his lips for a healthy swallow. "Not so loud," he cautions, taking in the man's appearance but withholding judgment for the moment--he'd learned that lesson quickly. "You'll sully what little reputation I have."

[cailisairgid]

Sol makes a quick lips-zipped gesture, amused. "Your secret's safe with me. Solomon Koenig- unwanted by Ceith," in other words, not on any of the missions, "but I can console myself with the fact Sir Hellsing likes me." Because he works for her. (And reminds her worryingly of her father - he's like the lost Hellsing, it's bizarre.)

[alan_shore]

"Alan Shore." He shifts the scotch to his left hand and extends the right for shaking. If his curiosity hadn't been piqued before, it is now. "And I hope for your sake Sir Hellsing's affections are expressed more gently than Ceith's."

[cailisairgid]

Sol's grip is firm and friendly - no pissing match here - and his hands don't really say 'desk job' to anyone. "Not much," he says, candidly. "Paramilitary doesn't really do 'gently'."