(no subject)
There's more than one door into the bar; the door behind the bar into the Staff Quarters, the bathroom doors, the doors at the top of the stairs, and of course the back door.
It's the last one that opens now, on the variegated shades of twilight, and admits someone who is mostly those colors himself, except for the bright candy-corn colors of his nubby horns and eyes.
Karkat looks like someone who has been doing some extreme gardening. Deliriously horzitocultural, in fact. Shrubs so flagrant they should be illegal, and probably are. There are leaves and twigs in his always-dishevelled hair, and scratches on his face and snags in his clothes.
"FUCK.
TREES," he declares to the room at large. He sounds, if possible, more short-tempered than usual.
[OOC: Slowtime is inevitable, but all comers are welcome.]
It's the last one that opens now, on the variegated shades of twilight, and admits someone who is mostly those colors himself, except for the bright candy-corn colors of his nubby horns and eyes.
Karkat looks like someone who has been doing some extreme gardening. Deliriously horzitocultural, in fact. Shrubs so flagrant they should be illegal, and probably are. There are leaves and twigs in his always-dishevelled hair, and scratches on his face and snags in his clothes.
"FUCK.
TREES," he declares to the room at large. He sounds, if possible, more short-tempered than usual.
[OOC: Slowtime is inevitable, but all comers are welcome.]