http://bonhomme7h.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
bonhomme7h.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
It sounds pretty prejudiced, she knows, but being dropped unceremoniously into a new dimension has caused some of the old gut reactions to kick in. "You know...it's sort of funny, now that I think on it -- all the Captains I know have names starting with J. They're all more than a bit flirty, too."
no subject
no subject
Tosh smiles at the question about Captains, glancing out into the crowd for a moment as if looking for someone. "Well, one would be my former boss, Captain Jack Harkness. Who's actually around here somewhere. And the other would be his former...partner, I guess, Captain John Hart. Who I suspect is sort of indirectly the reason I'm here."
no subject
He follows her gaze into the crowd. And for a moment there's another pang of homesickness, of longing. Not that he'd wish this fate on anyone but it must be a comfort not to be alone here.
"Really. Why do you think this Captain John Hart is behind you being here?"
no subject
"Well not directly, of course, but he's responsible for the series of events that led to me being shot and killed. Not that I'd be immune to inter-dimensional kidnapping if that hadn't happened -- I mean, Jack and Ianto are here, after all -- but this is their first, and it's my third. And I think if I'd been able to go back home after the first, chances are better that it wouldn't have happened again."
For all the talk about her own death, Tosh seems very at ease with topic.
no subject
"Let me make sure I'm following you--this is the third one of these places you've been dragged into?" he asks, keeping his tone light. "Damn. I guess I should stop complaining."
no subject
no subject
He turns his face, leaning in ever so slightly. "And you." His tone completely, obviously is trying to imply that she's the most interesting one of all.
no subject
"I've met a handful of...very nice, normal-seeming people." None of whom actually are, but it's not like they wear signs proclaiming TELEPATH or SERIAL KILLER or SUPERVILLAIN. "And you."
no subject
"Well, maybe we can trade off. I can start meeting the normal ones and you can start meeting the colorful ones."
no subject
"That sounds like an interesting proposition, but how am I supposed to find the colorful ones? Are you going to direct them my way?"
no subject
He takes a sip of his beer, surveying the crowds for a moment, before adding, "Not that I don't think you could take care of it yourself."
no subject
no subject
Another sip of his beer and he nods--she's got a point, what constitutes a weirdo in a place like this, between two people whose professional lives consist largely of dealing with things that are just not normal? "Guess we'd have to come to a mutually agreeable definition. So nobody slips by who shouldn't."