Why the hell not. Johnny.inspnickangelApril 21 2009, 12:14:47 UTC
Nicholas knows he should be at home right now, but he isn't. Coming off of a double shift, home is really the last place he wants to be.
He doesn't particularly want to get drunk, either, but here he is, a glass of red held lightly in his hand as he steps up to the window next to the young man dressed in all black.
"Fascinating," he says, loudly enough to be heard, but quietly enough to be to himself.
[OOC: I'm not sure if you're familiar with this character, but if you are, he's an alternate reality version of him, where he never left London. If you're not, disregard.
Re: Why the hell not. Johnny.inspnickangelApril 21 2009, 21:50:55 UTC
Nicholas looks over at the man, getting a good, proper look at him. He can practically hear Janine in the background somewhere, telling him to switch off.
A few moments later, he looks away and with his free hand, pressing his fingers to the window. "I don't think you could if you wanted to," he says slowly.
Daniel sat looking solemn around the bar, a recent recounting of the first time he died made him think of his wife. Ten years had gone bye and he still hurt to think about her. A cup of coffee lay forgotten at his elbow.
They young man caught his attention. Sometimes you don't know why, but people just do that, its not like there is anything odd about the guy that he can see. Maybe, its a vestige of his ascended state. WHo knows.
Daniel moved to see what the guy was looking at, "That's interesting."
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Sirius, is, however, quite loud amidst the other bar patrons.
It is for this reason that Franklin is watching him traipse around the bar...and it's why he's now tapping out that same beat.
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Franklin hates minor chords.
"Hey, buddy, calm down."
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D:
(Dan is, by the by, holding a box of Chinese take-out in one hand, and chopsticks in the other.)
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...This look transforms very quickly into extreme confusion.
"Hey," he says, sitting up (too quickly, ouch his head). "You. Dreiberg?"
Whereever could he have picked up the habit of talking in cutoff sentences?
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"How d'you know my name?"
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And, um, now Mason is poking at Dan like he's a specimen on display.
"What're you doing here?"
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She walks over with a plate of sugar cubes and an arched brow.
No, really. Uncle Walter's been conditioning her, maybe?
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Sugar on plate: interesting, but vaguely nauseating.
The disgruntled look on Mason's face ought to be pretty familiar, though.
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"Just thought it might be good to take the edge off."
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Hey, they're the right brand and everything!
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He doesn't particularly want to get drunk, either, but here he is, a glass of red held lightly in his hand as he steps up to the window next to the young man dressed in all black.
"Fascinating," he says, loudly enough to be heard, but quietly enough to be to himself.
[OOC: I'm not sure if you're familiar with this character, but if you are, he's an alternate reality version of him, where he never left London. If you're not, disregard.
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[ooc: I'm not, sadly, but thanks for the heads-up anyway!]
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A few moments later, he looks away and with his free hand, pressing his fingers to the window. "I don't think you could if you wanted to," he says slowly.
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He laughs, seemingly apropos of nothing. "Looks like dying."
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They young man caught his attention. Sometimes you don't know why, but people just do that, its not like there is anything odd about the guy that he can see. Maybe, its a vestige of his ascended state. WHo knows.
Daniel moved to see what the guy was looking at, "That's interesting."
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"That's what I thought in the beginning, too," Odd says with a small smile.
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His smile is a little forced.
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And now Odd's job is to clean it out.
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