(Untitled)

[dingdongdoodily]

 A swaggering, young redhead steps through the door, almost as if he knew it was going to be there. Smiling to himself, he chuckled and took a drag of his cigarette.

"Gad, I hate it when I do that."

He dropped himself sideways in a cushy leather chair and ordered the regular, and set his hat down on the table beside him, and pulled out a pocket

Comments

[cheevy]

The hat is YYYYYOINKED.

[dingdongdoodily]

Which only gets another chuckle. There's only a few people that can get away with stealing Pickles' hat without getting face fisted.

"Miniver! How's life?"

[cheevy]

Miniver can get away with a lot. He's cute that way.

He perches the hat very lightly atop his head and sits on the floor by Pickles.

"Splendid, my dear. I see you've not gone bald yet."

[dingdongdoodily]

He laughed, "Not yet, got a few years before that happens." He ran a hand through his hair, almost self-consciously.

"Things are lookin' up fer me, too, I've just found myself a great manager, got myself a solo carreer to pass the time 'til what happens happens."

[cheevy]

"How much of your own future DO you know?" Miniver asks curiously. He wants to know how cautious he should be about keeping things straight.

[dingdongdoodily]

"I know about Dethklok. And, well, er, the whole... Thing about the Prophecy. Y'know that book I used to carry around all over the place?"

The Finnish Necronomicon.

"Had the weirdest picture in it, knew one was me fer sure, and one's definately Skwisgaar. That's really weird, y'know? Mostly because this book's like, a zillion years old."

Five hundred, in fact.

"So yeah. Know that I'm part of some prophecy, and that my band's gunna be pretty damn big, that we're gunna play heavier music than ever, and that I go bald. That's... about it I think."

[cheevy]

"Oh. Okay." That's really about all Miniver can remember anyway. Oh and there was something about something else that was important but he was kind of high at the time. So. Maybe not THAT important.

Certainly not as important as playing with Pickle's hat and doing Oscar Wilde pimp poses at him.

[dingdongdoodily]

Which were highly amusing to the redhead. He was snickering into a bottle.
"Dude. You should do a photoshoot or somethin'. That'd.." He cracked up again and offered the bottle of 100 proof whiskey to Miniver.

"Nono.. Better idea. Give me back my hat so I can get my smokes."

[cheevy]

Hat is traded for whiskey. Good whiskey.

"I did a photoshoot with Mia. It was fun. Did her hair and stuff." Miniver has a secret inner hairdresser. It's kind of silly. But he's pretty good.

[dingdongdoodily]

"Really? that sounds fun."

Pickles fishes out a cigarette from his hat and the tin inside the brim, before lighting it.

"My hairdresser quit. Said I was too high maintnence." He rolled his eyes and snorted, "Yeah right, how hard is it to just straighten the damn stuff and keep it from frizzin' out? Christ, it's the ninetys, not the 1400s."

[cheevy]

"What, you mean, iron it?"

That's how girls did it where he comes from.

[dingdongdoodily]

"Somethin' like that. They got hair irons that don't scorch it though now. Kinda like, err... Hair curlers, the hand-held ones? You guys got those, right? Well, only they're flat, not round. I tried doin' it myself and just ended up burnin' my neck. Stupid douchebag stylist."

He pushed his hair back off his shoulder in a way that oozed flounce.

"Effin' chick, probably should have fired her anyways."

[cheevy]

Headtilt.

"I bet I could do it." How hard can it be, right?

He takes a swig of the whiskey and stands up off the floor, running one hand over Pickles' hair, just barely touching it.

[dingdongdoodily]

Pickles almost freezes, almost, but he warms up to it a half-second later.

"It ain't gunna bite, Cheevy."

[cheevy]

He smirks and gently brushes his fingers through Pickles' hair, pulling it back and smoothing it.

"Pretty," he says softly. "Couple of redheads on mom's side like this. Mostly like me though."

[dingdongdoodily]

"Actually, it's really curly if I don't do anything with it."

He leans into the touch of his hair. Someone found his weak spot!