multiversallogs | It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife

Sonja arrives, lured by the promise of alcohol and possibly stirring up some trouble; she's becoming a fixture in the night scene, quite often dragging some fool home with her, and she's more than willing to venture out on a more packed night. She's dressed in her usual abdomen-baring fashion (http://www.polyvore.com/everything_big_bad_wolf_could/set?id=31158857), and declines to participate in any door prize contests, unsurprisingly. She nonchalantly shoves her way through the crowd, heading for the bar.

Earlier in the day, she'd pretty much invited the entire cohort to come drink with her. Rachel figures she'd best be prepared.

She arrives not long after the party starts so she can commandeer a prime spot, a stool down at one end of the bar. This is a proper party, her first since she arrived; she's covered the purple remnants of her quest-earned black eye with makeup, as best she can (it's still there, just not OH WOW OBVIOUS) and she's even forsaken her standard jeans and t-shirt for a little black dress.

The place is filling up fast. She keeps an idle eye on the growing crowd, waiting for any familiar faces, as she gets a shot of Jack down her and waits for a beer.

As Njoki and Pickman arrive, she seems at first surprised by the crowd of people and then pleased by their presence. It's been a while since she's had the chance to get out and get lost in the crowd, but it's something she always enjoys doing.

Breathing in deeply to get a feel for the scents in the room, Njoki turns to Pickman and looks down at his new hooves. "You should've let me put a coat of glitter polish on 'em, Applejack."

Ivan ate before the party - he wanted to be sure of his control, for one thing, considering he'd be among his own cohort members and theoretically on good behavior.

In truth, he's mainly here on business. He's meant to find Réjean for some time, but events haven't been on his side. A party might serve the purpose. Of course, that won't prevent him from saying hello to other acquaintances or making some new ones, either.

Hellboy only arrives once things have gotten fully underway, strolling in with remarkable casualness for a seven foot tall half-demon. He's dressed in his usual style, fully geared also as usual. The bandages, however, are new, around the torso and up into where the coat covers the left shoulder, but they're pretty light, especially compared to a couple of days ago. The chemical burn on his right cheek is almost gone, as are the couple visible on his legs between his shorts and boots.

On his way in, he shrugs and buys a raffle ticket, perhaps to make up for his only ordering some soda at the bar rather than anything alcoholic.

Parties and Verbena go together like peanutbutter and jelly, which is most of why Sol rolls up to the Apache (black shirt, black pants, diamond earring, shirtsleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned; his neck tattoo is partly visible, and so is a scar that winds up his forearm). He has an arm slung around the other reason, one Sebastian LeMat, and Sebastian's also the reason he doesn't plan to drink too much tonight. He's acting less as designated driver than he is potential 'necessary force', but you wouldn't know it to look at him, looking for all the world like Sebastian's troublemaking, bad influence uncle.

(It makes him homesick, for a minute; he grasps that feeling as fervently as he will enjoy the rest of his night.)

There's a sitter with Liesl and he's not due back 'til 3AM. He has every intention of making it count.

It's a busy night for Réjean. Throughout the evening, he can easily be found sitting up at the bar and chatting with newcomers, wandering through the crowd and checking-up on old friends, visiting the men's room and offering gentle threat to old enemies.

He's dressed poorly, in a Hawaiian shirt covered with blue flames and hula dancers, which makes him easy to spot among the assembled crowd.

Eddie shows up, in his usual suit, and absolutely no sign of recovering from any injuries, because hiding is good for avoiding that problem. He feels he has just as much right to celebrate his continued survival as people who put their necks on the line. He is, after all, still alive.

He buys a ticket for the raffle, acquires himself a beer to carry around, and proceeds to mingle and chatter with folks. It's an excellent evening already.

Aimery strongly considered staying in his Inn room and locking himself away for a week to freak out like last time, but the familiar call of alcohol was a strong one, especially when his thoughts were so cloudy and his spirits low. It pained him that he could remember agreeing not to drink alone, but couldn't clearly recall who he promised it to or why it was so important to keep that promise.

No matter, he could drown his worries and distract himself, two wonderful benefits of alcohol that he definitely remembered, without breaking it. He wasn't early nor was he late, and he spent a little of his gifted money on tickets for the door prizes. In a room packed with people, it was easy to get it back by ghosting his hand through a rich-looking drunk's wallet as he passed. Then he made his way to the bar and, in his new, well-accented Modern English, ordered himself a bottle of beer (nothing with ice, lesson learned).

He figured he would have one or two drinks, perhaps loosen his tie and his cuffs a bit, maybe unbutton his jacket, and let the rest of the crowd provide rowdy background noise for his initial not-moping.

Mabel spent far too much time sorting through various bits of clothing that were much too practical for a party. She had a nice dress, but it exposed her arms too much. She had this great jacket, but it had creature guts she hadn't quite managed to wash out yet. She finally settles, somewhat nervously, on a pale pink summer dress and a shawl. It didn't hide the scars on her arms or the fading bruises on her neck, but if anybody pointed those out, they weren't worth hanging out with.

(She had drawn a large star on her bandage, if only to cover up what she had drawn there before (http://rlv.zcache.com/operator_symbol_sticker-p217568565303589996qjcl_400.jpg).)

She buys a ticket, for the hell of it, and picks up a soda with reluctance. She wasn't tempting her nightmares with alcohol, as much as she needed a drink.

In this environment, without any tense preamble or the momentum of mission prep, without the weight of his own authority, Arthur looks as out of place as he ever does. He is dressed to blend in, mind you, and smartly dressed at that, with years of practice under his belt at flattering the angles of his frame without drawing attention to its overall narrowness. Slacks, button-down and tie, rolled-up sleeves, a fantastic pair of shoes—and no waistcoat, somewhat spitefully, because he does not in fact look twelve without one, Eames.

On that note, it occurs to Arthur that if anyone from back home could see him walking into the Apache like this, they'd make a huge fuss about it, rib him for actually showing up somewhere fun, and soforth. It's not that he's bad at socializing, he just... well. Whatever. Time to wait his turn at the bar.

Ticket bought, Cindy slips into the bar and right up to the tender, looking to get tipsy as hard and as fast as possible. Usually, she would sip slowly at something easy and spend her time people watching, but with her letter sent home, she's under the impression that it's only a matter of time before Bigby comes and gets her. And yell at her too, but yelling is so much better than having to stay in Baedal any longer than necessary.

One vodka shot later, she's nursing a Screwdriver, bobbing her head to the bassline of whatever song they're playing.

Lex buys a ticket for the door prize, partly out of curiosity and partly because he understands the annoyance of having to repair. It's not exactly empathy, but there is no way he is going to allow various monsters to ruin his new home if he can help it.

He is wearing a perfectly tailored black suit with a pink shirt underneath, forgoing the tie and leaving the collar unbuttoned. After receiving his drink from the bar Lex begins to walk toward the pool tables that had caught his eye as he walked in.

Unused to so many people at such volume, Narcissa is nevertheless determined to not hide away, and is braving the sort of public house she would never in a million years enter at home. Wearing a floaty, elegant creation (http://i51.tinypic.com/1aqdt.jpg) she'd had made here not long after arriving, she walks through the door with what seems to be quiet confidence. Charms hide the dark circles still under her eyes, and give shine to her hair that is otherwise dull in the aftermath of her illness.

Two neat steps to the side avoid the inevitable anonymous hand reaching where it shouldn't, and she heads for the bar. One drink ought to be sufficient.

Despite being on doctors orders not to mix painkillers with alcohol, Boromir is here because half of Hellsing is attending and because this is an easy way of checking up on people.

He even manages not to look like he just stepped out of Medieval Fantasy land, wearing fairly non-descript dark trousers and black shirt, although it bears noting that this clothing is fairly loose. He didn't just help bring back a Queen Ant as a souvenir, and he winces slightly as he walks.

He waves to the odd person he knows, and makes his way to the bar.

Jack's not much for drinking other than socially these days. He likes to stay on top of his game, and it's just not the same if he can't get drunk anyway. This place is kind of cute, with the jukebox and the southwestern style of things. Jack's hanging around looking at the wall of heroes in curiosity, wondering what exactly each person's story is and how it applies to the bar in general.

He's looking about as non-casual as ever in his customary braces and button-down under his RAF greatcoat, but fitting in's never really been his style. And besides, there's no use fitting in in a party setting, right? At least the greatcoat will get him noticed. Easy to spot a man like him, after all.

The flyer had caught Isobel's attention the moment she'd seen it. Not sure if she should make an appearance at such a social event so soon after arriving, she eventually decides it can't hurt. She might make more acquaintances while she's here, learn more information about the place and its residents.

So she orders something interesting and takes a place at the bar to watch. Her outfit includes a short dress (http://www.modcloth.com/Modcloth/Womens/Dresses/-Chiroptera-Cutie-Dress) with her normal necklace (http://images4.fanpop.com/image/polls/737000/737763_1307284835006_80.jpg?v=1307285002), black hose, and shoes (http://www.modcloth.com/Modcloth/Womens/Shoes/Heels/-Next-Step-Heel). She looks very confident and interested, letting her vampire hearing pick up anything in the area.

It's about time Adrian got out and hit the social scene here in Baedal. He's been shopping (well, he's been to see a tailor), and for this occasion he's dresses in an off-white double-breasted suit over a purple shirt and tie, topped off with a matching fur-lined coat. If it seems a little ostentatious, well...it'll mean he doesn't go unnoticed.

He purchases one of the door prize tickets and slips it into his pocket, then makes his way to the bar for a glass of scotch.

If there's anything her time at Torchwood taught her, it's that if you have a chance to celebrate survival, you should take it. So Tosh is here, casually dressed in a purple top and jeans (http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTFc5v99cYez2TVlT5kXe2PM6SLVUuRkXYxbg-fKB-9Vey28Frm), and a leather coat, because it didn't really sound like a dressy kind of affair. She snags a beer and finds a good vantage point from which to people watch.

Charles was pleased to find a professorship with the university so soon, but he hasn't started work yet, let alone received a paycheck. That doesn't stop him from going to the party, especially with no cover charge. He talks to people easily, he's hoping to find someone generous enough to buy the newcomer a beer.

While alcohol may cost money, browsing is free. He finds the jukebox and begins flipping through the song selections, wearing a slight frown. He doesn't recognize any of the selections and while the song currently playing is catchy, it has a rhythm completely unlike what he is used to.

Ruby turns up a little late in the game, slinking in with big eyes and thinly disguised uncertainty; is it really wise, she wonders, to go to a party on her very first night in a new place? A new place that abducted her on that very same day? She knows now (with her usual Knowing) that she is not dreaming, and that places like this exist and have maybe always existed, and she doesn't know how she'll get home, but that can wait until tomorrow. She's not one to pass up an adventure.

Ruby is not dressed for a party, in her shirtdress and outdoorsy boots. She sidles along the edges of the throng of people, a wallflower, and she makes herself a little invisible for just a second, though it's an illusion more flimsy than usual and she isn't trying very hard. There's a group of party-goers drunk and wildly dancing in the middle of the bar, pushing together, colliding half the time--there's not a lot of room, it seems like, but they're carried away by alcohol and music...and something else, though she can't pinpoint what exactly has induced it. It feels like relief, and she remembers what people told her on the Network about the city being attacked. So it's a celebration--even though she wasn't present, it is, at least, amicably shared good fortune.

Ruby pushes out her lower lip and blows air upward to get her hair out of her face, simultaneously rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, as though saying here I go. She then swings exuberantly forward into the throng of dancing strangers, joining them with a seamless ease, the quickly drawn-up invisibility spell slipping off her shoulders like an old shawl. Her bright hair whips behind her when she turns, and she thinks, as a vaguely amused afterthought, it's lucky she didn't get anyone in the face.

(One of the many hazards of hair that long.)

In those outdoorsy boots of hers, at least, she can be sure of her balance.

Edited 2011-08-09 20:39 (UTC)

A party - sure, why not. Remy isn't quite the Southern frat boy he tends to come off, but getting out and scoping out folks post-disaster can't hurt. Besides, he and Wanda are aiming for 'something akin to normal' and going to neighborhood parties is totally normal, right? So it's a neighborhood party being hosted by some anonymous magic flyer in honor of not being decimated by hideous spore creatures. Close enough.

And thus he is here, alongside a lovely lady, looking easy-going and interested, and probably just making a polite pause before hitting the bar.

Alan can be found admiring--if that's the word (it isn't)--decor that looks as if it's been hand-picked by Ted Nugent and nursing an unexpected pang of homesickness to go with his scotch. This, he suspects, would be Denny Crane's bar of choice were he to find himself inexplicably transported to a city presided over by gods and suffering from all manner of pest control problems.

He has a ticket for the door prize in his pocket and some very impressive bruising under his impressively expensive suit. He will not be dancing this evening.

It's only after Rochelle arrives, freshly showered and encased in a burnished red leather blazer she recovered from the Lost and Found, that she realizes she doesn't have any cash for drinks or whatever other amusement the Apache might offer.

Shit.

Not that she could get close to the bar if she wanted to now. The place was tightly packed, leaving her with one of two options: finding an unoccupied seat or a familiar face. Whichever Rochelle ran into first.

Even though Asbjørn had had to put a small dent in the pocket money given to him by the city (he got pretty lucky (http://www.polyvore.com/lets_consider_change_scenery/set?id=35374935) with his thrift finds, all things considered), this day was ending with at least one beer. Surviving was a celebration he could definitely get behind, although fuck this place was packed.

While he's picked up on the fact that this city is supernatural and has its fair share of similarly inclined inhabitants, it never quite dawned on him how much until he was here, in this crowded place. Instead of cutting across the room, he moves around it, watchful. This is all interesting and new.

Although, once he gets to the bar, people move because he has that vibe that you should, even if it's one he can't control. He orders a beer and waits patiently.

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