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multiversallogs2011-08-08 08:05 pm
bonhomme7h.livejournal.com) wrote in multiversallogs2011-08-08 08:05 pm
Entry tags:
- @ mog hill,
- @ mog hill: apache,
- anna demirovna,
- ava lockhart,
- charles xavier,
- hellboy,
- ilde decima,
- ivan,
- jack benjamin,
- james t. kirk,
- jones,
- npc,
- rachel conway,
- raylan givens,
- solomon koenig,
- sonja garin,
- { boromir,
- } adrian veidt,
- } aimery le gode,
- } alan shore,
- } arthur,
- } asbjørn strand,
- } brie cormac,
- } cindy,
- } edward nigma,
- } isobel saltzman,
- } jack harkness,
- } lex luthor,
- } mabel albans,
- } narcissa black,
- } njoki rainmaker,
- } pickman,
- } remy lebeau,
- } rochelle,
- } ruby van alst,
- } réjean sept-heure,
- } sebastian lemat,
- } toshiko sato,
- } wanda maximoff
It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]
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.
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.
no subject
"Shhh," it's a gentle murmur, and quite counter-intuitive when you think about it. The pressure eases up, though the hand remains. "You may have some cracked ribs. If you think we don't break them for you, you would be wrong. Now, would you like to say something?"
no subject
It isn't so much a saying as a sharing, though, of fluids, as he spits most fiercely into his new friend's reflective face. Into his own face. Which he tries his hardest to stare through, not at, as he bestows upon his captors a snarling gift:
"Fuck yourself."
There.
no subject
"We're done here." This isn't for Arthur's benefit, but directed at the person or persons behind him. His hair is released and the bag comes back down over his head. Next he'll be dragged to his feet, taken out of this room and relocated to his own cell. His things will be taken from him, but in turn he'll be freed from the the zipcuffs. No one is going to explain the situation to him for some time. Plenty of hours in which to sober up and think about whatever it is he has done.