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]

Powerful something else, but who knows if Charles can tell that - a close examination of his mind would probably be a little confusing for a telepath at first, if they weren't accustomed to people walking around with clear memories of lives previously lived alongside their present realities.

(There's less pressure to leave your mark on the world when you already did, two thousand and change years ago.)

"I...don't think they have," Sol says, after a moment's thought, apparently rolling with the approach of a stranger perfectly readily. He's a wolfish kind of a man up close, pleasantries laid over danger and both equally true of him; he is good-natured and friendly, and he could probably rip someone's spine out if he had a reason to. "Bought a ticket, then?"

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

The look of danger is at least one Charles is familiar with. It's odd how two people can be so clearly different, yet share enough in common even at the onset of meeting a person the sense of common ground isn't one Charles can so easily shake.

The aforementioned danger doesn't bother Charles in the slightest. He's not a fool but he's no coward and knows from experience not to base everything entirely on looks. He doesn't make it a habit to read anyone's mind without their consent, but he can sense that while not a mutant, this man isn't exactly the average human either.

At the question Charles gives a slight chuckle, shaking his head. "Not in the slightest. It's my curiosity speaking, I'm afraid. I haven't been in Baedal long and as far as I know these prizes could be anything."