[Lorne can be seen drinking out of a half-full (aha) glass -- or at least trying. He lifts it to his lips a second time only to realize that something here is very wrong. His hand smacks the side of it, and when what was liquid doesn't move, he frowns and clacks it against the dresser -- did you catch that the dresser looks about 100 times his size ( Read more... )

[Lorne's shuffling around the little kitchen, clearly moping and being a sad little empath. Watchers may her him sniffle and cough a little but that doesn't keep him from nasally singing while he makes himself coffee.]

♪ Oh, by gosh, by golly ( Read more... )

[Here's Lorne, sitting at a small table with a cup of tea and some papers in front of him. Oh, accounting, how you are loathed. The infamous box sits to the side, ignored as Lorne talks to the City.]

Now, munchkins, don't get me wrong here. I love you all dearly and as if you were my own. But are you crazy? Haven't you dum-dums heard of Pandora ( Read more... )

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Oh goodie. It's just like home sweet home...

[OOC: Cursed with Memory Theater, Lorne gets to revisit his revisiting of his home and enjoy being humiliated all over again.]

[Somebody's been drinking and self-loathing in his apartment alone.]

It's kind of ironic, you know? I did the job and that was supposed to be that. No more for ol' Lorne here.

[A pause for another chug, and then a deep sigh.]But here I am, in my empty apartment, trying to be chipper and cheery! And here all of you are again. I did my job; I ( Read more... )

[A melancholic version of 'No One Is Alone' can be heard as Lorne hums to himself. He's cowering in the corner of a cell, clothes torn, one horn broken and his hair mussed. There are brown bruises along his cheeks, evidence that he attempted to fight back when the Gestapo came to grab him but of course he ultimately failed to escape.]

Just look at ( Read more... )