http://bonhomme7h.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] bonhomme7h.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] multiversallogs2011-08-08 08:05 pm

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.

[identity profile] baedalites.livejournal.com 2011-08-20 08:51 am (UTC)(link)
Spits runs down the mirror mask and for a few seconds nothing else happens. The hand rests immobile on Arthur's damaged ribs. When the woman finally speaks, it is in the same level tone she used before; "Perhaps you should conserve your liquids." You know. Just in case no one thinks to water and feed you over the coming days.

"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.