multi-pup extravaganza / barways
SIR GODFREY - robin hood '10 - He can taste blood and iron on his tongue. (He saw the arrow coming. He still isn't sure if turning his head was instinct or the force of the blow, or a mixture of the two.) For what it's worth, however, when he enters the bar, the cut running from one side of his lips a short distance up his cheek is stitched up. Still, the wound is new, and he acts as such. (He has been here once before, directly following the departure of Richard the Lionhearted from his castle. The memory is enough to keep him from stopping in his tracks completely, but not quite enough to prevent him from looking more than a little dubious at his surroundings.) Chainmail weighs down on his shoulders, and after a moment's thought, he settles down at a table, soon joined by a glass of water. His plans don't involve staying too long.
MAJOR HENRY WEST - 28 days later - It's a curious thing, to know that you're dead. Soaked to the bone and covered in blood (it's hard to tell whether it's his or another's although judging from the fact that he simply appeared rather than walking through the door, at least some of it is his own), Major Henry West stands a few feet from the front door. (You killed my boys.) He wants to know that Jim is dead. He wants to know that he's paid the price for fucking with his men. His men are all he has - were all he had. None of his anger or grief shows on his face, although his vaguely shell-shocked expression says enough.
JESSE JAMES - the assassination of jesse james by the coward robert ford - Jesse James sits in a rocking chair by the fire. He's staring into the flames, a cigar held carefully in one hand, his hat balanced on his knee. He's been like this some thirty-odd minutes, curls of smoke and the slow back-and-forth rocking of the chair the only real movements about him. (It seems like he's always been there, on some level, and on another, it feels like he's barely been there at all.)
MR. NICK ; LUCIFER - the imaginarium of doctor parnassus ; constantine - At a long table, two devils are playing a game of dice. One is dressed in black, the other in white. They talk quietly as the game progresses, the collective sound a low, velvet rasp. A small sign hangs form the end of their table, covered in small, flashing lightbulbs, and reading in gaudy font: Come Test Your Luck! Whether or not you do is entirely your own choice, but if you do take up a game, don't say that we didn't warn you.
HARRY STARKS - the long firm - Prison's nice this time of year. Harry Starks looks older than he did the last time that he appeared here, partially because he actually is and partially because of his own fear of fading away. Dressed mostly in navy, he sits at the bar counter, a tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and a frown set upon his features. His eyes rest on his hands. While not immediately noticeable to passersby, anyone sitting near him will notice that his hands are shaking. Unsurprisingly, he hates it. Grimacing, he slams one fist down on the bar counter before downing what's left of his drink in frustration.
( ooc: open forever, with warnings of slowtime because rog's schedule is off the chain. as for the devils, tag one or both! besides that, knock yourselves out~ )