Application - Marla Singer, from 'Fight Club'

[jacks_tumor]

((God, oh God, stop me, really. Nine characters. I'm in for it. For reference, I'm playing a combination of movie and book!Marla, just because they both have their own kind of batshit insane tendencies. This is also Marla before, you know, insert large spoiler here at the end of Fight Club, so Captain Blankity Blank is not dead, in her eyes. She's

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[sidney_reilly]

Wouldn't dream of asking for the pack, but I wouldn't mind a coffin nail and a light for a bribe. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Miss?

[jacks_tumor]

With a heavy-hearted sigh that made it seem that she was giving up her left arm rather than a cigarette, Marla held up the pack, one white cylinder poking neatly out the top. "I'm fresh out of matches and fire in general - you'll have to help yourself with that light," she commented with a wrinkled nose. "Sorry. And yet, not."

As for her mother. "Well, I should hope I don't kiss her with this," she added with a bit of incredulity to her voice. "How much collagen she's had pumped into those things, I imagine it would be like kissing a sausage." She tilted her head a bit, contemplatively. "Not the nice kind either. Those shitty ones you get in the twelve pack at the convenience store."

[sidney_reilly]

Thank you. *takes a cigarette, mutters incendio and lights it with the tip of his wand* Ahh. That's something I've been missing. Awfully young to be so cynical, aren't you?

[jacks_tumor]

She pursed her lips, deadening her eyes a bit in his direction and resisting the urge to roll them again. Cute, really. "Awfully British to be inside a castle, aren't you?" she parried right back, and paused a moment, taking a cigarette of her own. "No, wait. I think those two go together. Scratch that. And mind sparing a light?"

[waste_lock]

"Hot Topic wannabes? Well, if the PVC granny boot fits..."

[jacks_tumor]

"Then you more than likely have far too many buckles, and I suspect you'll be tripping over a gutter within the hour," she finished his sentence with a bit of a smirk, plucking a random, invisible piece of lint off her coat. "It's far cheaper to just lift them out of your friendly, neighborhood Sal's Boutique."

Vote: Sparklypoo

[waste_lock]

"God, you think you're such a fucking special dark blossom, don't you? Sparklypoo, and don't tempt me to squib you instead."

[jacks_tumor]

"Oh, yeah, doll, best of the shit there is, that's me!" That earned him an irritated glance skyward, and she resisted the urge to flick him on his very pointy nose. "Yeah, and you're the nice, shiny, little, original snowflake, right?" she snarked, eyebrow arched.

[lady_thujone]

You seem stressed, sweetheart. Wouldn't you like a drink?

[jacks_tumor]

Marla let out a weird sort of scoffing laugh, sounding bemused. "Would I? What've you got?"

[lady_thujone]

Absinthe, of course. How better to welcome someone?

[jacks_tumor]

Oh, grin. "Absinthe?" Nice. "I like your style, hun, what'd you say your name was again?"

[sgtbothari]

Bothari read over the application, and then did something so out of character that, was anyone around who actually knew him well, they'd be edging him back toward the door. What he did was smile beatifically.
Of course, the smile didn't reach his eyes, which were fixed on Marla with an intense hunger.

"You remind me of Elena," he breathed reverently.

[jacks_tumor]

Any other person, of course, would probably have been doing that said backing towards the door right about now. Marla, however, managed to only look bored. But then, she'd fucked Tyler Durden on many an occasion. If she could handle him, she could handle most of anything. "Elena?" she remarked, finger touched to her chin. "Begging the question, not that I care, is that a good or a bad thing?"

[sgtbothari]

Bothari took a careful step forward. "Elena," he answered, his voice barely more than a whisper, "is my wife... But they took her away." He couldn't have said why this woman reminded him of Elena... possibly there was no other reason other than the fact that she seemed to be at about his level of batshittery.

[jacks_tumor]

Not that he had answered her question, of course. "I remind you of your long-lost wife," she clarified aloud in a deadened sort of voice, crossing her arms lazily in her lap and blinking to Bothari. While batshittery was, indeed, a fuckload of fun, she wasn't getting the bonding moment here. "Tragic, really," she added in a mumble, picking at some lint on her coat and flicking it idly to the floor. "You must cry yourself to sleep at night."

[aquilus_albel]

*Albel raises an eyebrow amusedly.* Repeated profanity is the sign of an underused imagination. *Oh, yeah. Says the man who addresses every other person he meets as either "maggot," "worm," or "fool."*

*He waves his good hand in front of his face.* And I'll thank you not to smoke that around me, worm. *Albel has a tendency to start choking in front of a roaring fire - quite a drawback when you've got one arm that spends a lot of time in smithies.*

[jacks_tumor]

Worm? Marla only smirked, blowing out an extra enthusiastic cloud of smoke directly into Albel's face and leaning back onto a hand. "Oh, so incredibly sorry, you said to... NOT smoke that around you, right?" Not that she looked phased or anything. "Profanity, at any rate, that's the open door to just pissing off a fuckload of people. And some..." She paused, glancing over his hair with a cocked eyebrow. "Girl? Man? Transvestite? Isn't going to be much in the way of convincing."

[aquilus_albel]

*Albel looks shocked for a moment. There've been cracks about the sarong once or twice, but no one's actually pretended to doubt his gender. Then he grins ironically, and offers his left hand - or rather, claw.* The name's Albel. Lord Nox to you.

[jacks_tumor]

...What, did that impress him, or something? "Sure thing. Albel." Like she was going to call anybody 'Lord' anything. "Marla. Ms. Singer, to you," she replied dryly, and didn't take his hand. Instead, she chose to inspect it, rather curiously. "You buy that shit downtown or something?"