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

[hehaseatenthepancake]

He nods. "There're a handful of us who were in Bete Noire before here. There may be some folks from other places too, I don't really keep track. Bete Noire had people of all sorts like here, but the city itself was like a low-rent New York City with a supposedly imminent Apocalypse. No thank you." He's got more than enough of that back home.

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

"Well, at least you can count on an Apocalypse not happening every day. Low rent though, I can't imagine." Even through his humor Charles shouldn't talk, he's staying at the inn, but that doesn't make him any less spoiled.

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Hellboy scowls for a moment before reminding himself that Charles would have any way of knowing just why he doesn't find the Apocalypse to be a laughing matter. He shakes his head. "It was dirtier and more run down, with crappier lighting and more crime, is what I meant. Like no one was bothering to take much care of it." He shrugs. "I don't know what the actual rents were; I was still on the newbie discount rate at the hostel when Baedal grabbed me."