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

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

"...Ah, right, the network. Good catch," he says, and seems to mean it. "I was only on there for a minute." Yelling at some guy. It's not exactly how he'd hoped to kick off that mission, but oh well, it happens. And he's used to it. "Did you end up running anyone's errands?"

[cailisairgid]

"Sir Hellsing's," he says, wryly, producing his cigarettes and making a 'do you mind?' combination eyebrow-gesture; he's fine with not lighting it if Arthur would rather not be standing next to a six foot chimney. "I worked some of the investigation prior - mostly chasing paperwork on the hives and drinking tea with chatty local matriarchs." Women like that see everything in a neighbourhood, and it had given him a direction to move in once he had the paper trail for who'd owned those houses. "Handed off some of that information to someone else on your team- Remy."

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

Arthur shakes his head to Sol's unspoken question; he doesn't care, go for it.

"I see." Ah yes, Remy. The very guy he was yelling at. What exactly went down during the lantern mission is still something of a mystery to those not involved, it seems, but one can only assume the two of them didn't become ~best bros~ during the course of it. Not that Arthur looks annoyed by the mere mention of his name, or anything, mind. ...anyway.

"Tea and paperwork, huh. Sounds like a thrilling way to make a living." There is nothing particularly mocking about the way he says this.

[cailisairgid]

The exhale of smoke as he lights up is almost like a chuff of amusement; he doesn't really do a lot of laughing, generally. Personal quirk.

"I'm the legal department at Hellsing." Yes, all of it. Imagine the backlog he walked into when he arrived. "Usually it's coffee, yelling and paperwork."

Yes. This guy works a desk job.

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

Arthur has his suspicions about this, but Arthur has suspicions about everything, so it's not like this is a world-shattering development. "The entire legal department? I thought Hellsing was a fairly sizeable organization at this point."

As he says this, he draws his CiD out of his pocket—it's been vibrating, presumably—and then frowns at it. (Also not a world-shattering development, but this time it's because he doesn't recognize the number.)

[cailisairgid]

"Well, I've got my minions." Aides. He has aides. He also has a bourbon, a beer and one gin and tonic, so he pays the bartender and spares only a brief, curious glance at Arthur's frown. "But, unfortunately, they don't do beer runs." Coffee, yes, and a lot of it. "It was nice talking to you, I'll let you take care of whatever that is."

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

"Thanks. Some day I'll learn to turn it off," he says, and...doesn't quite smile, but looks friendly enough. ...Well, for Arthur.

As he turns to wade through the crowd, he adds, "And I'd think about editing that in when the minions' contracts are due for renewal."