First Entrance
OOM: the only thing you can do when you're in a terrible situation is close your eyes and get on with it.
The man in the doorway drops his cell phone.
It snaps, breaking badly, before he stares blankly. Two minutes ago this ways most definately not a fucking bar.Mark is suddenly very aware of just how shitty he looks-sweat stained shirt, burns ( Read more... )
The man in the doorway drops his cell phone.
It snaps, breaking badly, before he stares blankly. Two minutes ago this ways most definately not a fucking bar.Mark is suddenly very aware of just how shitty he looks-sweat stained shirt, burns ( Read more... )
She can spot a newcomer a mile away - and with her abilities, that's literally. She coils her fingertips around the glass in front of her and finally glances in his direction - she'd smelled him coming before that.
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Which this had to be....
"....I think I might be a little bit." He offers her a very slight goofy look. Mark's good at those, "....This is uh-This isn't my normal-well.."
He was going to say dream but, "..Anything."
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(She's good at those.)
"I don't think anything involving this place could fall under the category of 'normal'."
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Normal ended when his sister died for him. He can handle not-normal.
"You'd be surprised how I define normal." His gaze goes upward, "Besides-I'm dreaming."
He's clearly passed out or..something. Right?
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She can smell blood on him. Sweat. Maybe a little residual fear.
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He's a predator himself but the disorientation is throwing him off. He's had to learn how to read people. Not by choice-but it's getting considerably easier. This one however...
Something about her reminds him of Amanda in a flash, but it's gone. If he dreamed about Amanda...
She wouldn't be a red head.
"I just came out of a sort of bad situation." He stared at his shirt before looking up at her (cue another goofy grin) "...So obviously I've collapsed or something."
Right?
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Her lips twitch with a hint of a smirk before she sips from her drink.
"Do you think you need some reviving?"
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"....Possibly. Possibly." He grins, "I was just kidnapped and held hostage. But you'd be surprised what kinda tools can....save a life."
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"I might've guessed."
She raises an eyebrow at his mention of tools.
"Such as?"
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"...Okay, so that might have been what's actually a really good statement used as a pick-up line. I'm supposed to be smoother in dreams to tell you the truth."
Because he's not so smooth in actual reality to tell you the truth.
"....So just how awkward was uh-" he scratches the back of his neck, "Was that?"
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She's still smirking, though.
"I've heard worse attempts."
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He laughs, "Okay, so I won't subject you to another line. This is definately not the place I was prior to this. Are you sure I'm not dreaming?"
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She watches him over the rim of her glass, dark eyes briefly flashing gold in the time it takes him to blink.
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"....Honestly?"
He glances around and there might-just might-be a twinge of fear, "...This isn't a nightmare is it? You're not going to pull out a knife and kill me are you?"
Because y'know, unfortunately the guy has a serious problem with nightmares.
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She keeps her expression serious until it gives way for another smirk.
(And there's the fear again. He really might be telling the truth.)
She swivels on the barstool, crossing her legs at the knee.
"Besides: no violence allowed in the bar. One of the rules."
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Mark's only kidding. The relief on his face is palpable, passing the whole fear thing off as a joke.
(No Angie, No growing sense of horror, no pig monsters...)
His dreams are dark places.
"....Wait, rules?"
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