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multiversallogs2011-09-21 11:57 pm
molotovmartinis.livejournal.com) wrote in multiversallogs2011-09-21 11:57 pm
Entry tags:
creeping up the backstairs, mother's nightmare
Who: Hamilton Fish esq. and Balthazar
What: RELEASE THE HOUND. JUST THE ONE HOUND.
Where: the Valhalla Inn arrival room
When: well, night...
Notes: oh hi friend
Warnings:Bugs Bunny style face smooching look I can't that's so hideous
Still not entirely certain this isn't some kind of bizarre scenario designed to make him further incriminate himself for Hell's entertainment, leading to even more hilarious torture, Balthazar stands quite still, very near to the door. With all the protective... whatever is going on in or on it or intrinsic to the material, he can't really feel outside the room with his creepy pseudo-psychic senses. He doesn't know if there's anybody waiting, or who might answer the door, or if the person that does open it will have any significance. He thinks, though doubt creeps in from time to time, that he just knows Hell's little quirks after so many years — it's a part of him, how can he not? — but the possibility lingers and nags. If he were younger, he might straighten his tie. As it is, he knows full well that his entire appearance can no more be disheveled than a Ken doll (Constantine tossing him around aside). The tightening occurs entirely in his mind, pulling his appearance and aura together so bad vibes aren't continuously leaking through the way he usually allows them to.
He knocks. It's polite, because there's not much smarm you can inject into that kind of thing.
What: RELEASE THE HOUND. JUST THE ONE HOUND.
Where: the Valhalla Inn arrival room
When: well, night...
Notes: oh hi friend
Warnings:
Still not entirely certain this isn't some kind of bizarre scenario designed to make him further incriminate himself for Hell's entertainment, leading to even more hilarious torture, Balthazar stands quite still, very near to the door. With all the protective... whatever is going on in or on it or intrinsic to the material, he can't really feel outside the room with his creepy pseudo-psychic senses. He doesn't know if there's anybody waiting, or who might answer the door, or if the person that does open it will have any significance. He thinks, though doubt creeps in from time to time, that he just knows Hell's little quirks after so many years — it's a part of him, how can he not? — but the possibility lingers and nags. If he were younger, he might straighten his tie. As it is, he knows full well that his entire appearance can no more be disheveled than a Ken doll (Constantine tossing him around aside). The tightening occurs entirely in his mind, pulling his appearance and aura together so bad vibes aren't continuously leaking through the way he usually allows them to.
He knocks. It's polite, because there's not much smarm you can inject into that kind of thing.