(no subject)
Tony Napolitano is too cool for the room.
Fortified by a pint of his special Purple Haze ice cream, dressed in his teddy-boy finest (complete with dark sunglasses), and with a cigarette held in his mouth, he is slouched nearly horizontally on the couch by the fire, playing his beloved 1961 Höfner 500/1 electric bass (covered in a pin-up style painting of a certain redhead, holding a tommy-gun and surrounded by the words THIS MACHINE KILLS HEROES).
He's playing one of his favorite songs, apparently an extended version of it, only singing intermittently. He's actually got talent... which is a comfort of sorts, since it doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon.
Botherable. He can talk while playing... then again, he can also turn it up.
[open until it scrolls!]
Fortified by a pint of his special Purple Haze ice cream, dressed in his teddy-boy finest (complete with dark sunglasses), and with a cigarette held in his mouth, he is slouched nearly horizontally on the couch by the fire, playing his beloved 1961 Höfner 500/1 electric bass (covered in a pin-up style painting of a certain redhead, holding a tommy-gun and surrounded by the words THIS MACHINE KILLS HEROES).
He's playing one of his favorite songs, apparently an extended version of it, only singing intermittently. He's actually got talent... which is a comfort of sorts, since it doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon.
Botherable. He can talk while playing... then again, he can also turn it up.
[open until it scrolls!]