None of them are holding tickets to that thing you love...

[leosarecynical]

Look at this post.

Now look at your characters.

Now back to this post.

Sadly, this post does not have your characters in it, BUT IT COULD.

Gray Raines is currently on a streetcorner, snogging a random woman he doesn't know. IT COULD BE YOUR CHARACTER. The reason for this snogging is because he may or may not have gotten into some trouble at a pool

Comments

[trappedbyhate]

Unfortanately, Gray, you have chosen the wrong woman to grab off the street and randomly snog. Mio is not down with this shit. And the narration means really not down with this shit. Mio pushes Gray back and then winds up and gives him her best punch to the face.

"You fucking creep," Mio growls.

[leosarecynical]

Gray yelps and his hand goes to his face. "Ow. Sorry, sorry! I don't mean nothing by it. There's just... Pool sharks. Y'know, this always works in the movies."

He's flailing pretty incoherently right now. HE DOESN'T MEAN TO BE A CREEPY. POOL SHARKS, MIO. WHO CAN DO HORRIBLE THINGS WITH POOL STICKS. HE DOESN'T WANT THE GIMP.

[trappedbyhate]

Mio looks unimpressed. "This isn't the movies, you fuckwit. This is real life, and what you just did is called sexual assault. Or are you too stupid to realize that?"

You know Gray, if you'd just run out screaming something about pool sharks wanting to kill you, Mio might have bothered to get involved in your favor. Now if they catch up with you she'll just laugh as they beat your ass.

[leosarecynical]

Gray holds up his hands. "I know what sexual assault is." He takes a step back. "My best friend's a cop and, believe me, she'd probably come down pretty damn hard on your side."

He keeps glancing over his shoulders like he's expecting to get tackled from behind at any moment.

[hey_capn_jack]

What's in J's hand? It's two bottles of that booze Mac loves! Look again. One bottle is now being proffered.

"...hi," J says.

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE WHEN J HAS HAD A SHIT COUPLA DAYS. Such as: he's not even asking about that horse.

[ornobodywill]

Mac stares at J for a moment and then rolls her eyes and climbs off the horse before taking the bottle. "Don't ask. It's a long story," she says, nodding at the horse.

And much like the story of Bristow and Narnia, it will never be told. The horse takes this moment to trot away into a secluded corner of the park and Mac waits for it to go before breaking into the booze. Drinking in pubic? Who cares? She was on a horse. Plus, at the rate Chicago's going, drinking in public ought to be required just to live in the area.

[hey_capn_jack]

J pops the top of his alcohol off, and takes a long drink, watching the horse saunter off. He doesn't really form any opinions on the horse as it goes; it's just somewhere to put his gaze for a bit.

"I once walked into my office and found a flamingo there," he offers. After a moment, he appends "...a real one." Not one of the plastic monstrosities taking over lawns across this godforsaken land.

...and that is apparently what he has to offer the conversation at the moment, and then it's back to alcohol.

[ornobodywill]

Mac chugs her alcohol indelicately, exhaling happily when she pulls the bottle from her lips before eying J warily. "Did... Someone put it there or do flamingos wander into offices all the time where you're from?"

[sinsofskin]

The fact that Leona does not have a gun pointed at Juliet's head is mostly due to the fact that she only has two hands, and those are occupied with pointing weapons at an archangel in a sombrero and a wanderer with a Mauser grafted to his wrist.

...it should be noted that the archangel does not appear to be Mexican. He looks much more Nordic, through the bone structure and skin/eye pigmentation. He's making a valiant attempt at a horribly stereotypical moustache, though.

But as both of them - as well as the little slip of a thing Leona is pretty sure she could break over her knee, and the woman with the guitar case - are pointing guns at her, and as Juliet doesn't seem to be, Leona is thinking they could be allies. Of convenience, if nothing else.

"Shame to do this on such a lovely day," she says, without taking her eyes of Sombrero Man. "Honestly, the things that happen when you go out for a stroll, huh, darling? Makes a girl want a stiff drink at an unseemly time in the afternoon."

[neverinportland]

Juliet only has one gun and it's on Sombrero Man. This is what happens when you step in to stop what you think is a street mugging. You wind up in the middle of a Tarantino film.

"I'm guessing you weren't really in any distress," Juliet says to Leona without taking her eyes off the man she doesn't have her gun on in case she has to move quickly.

[sinsofskin]

"Distress? More 'annoyance,' I'd say," Leona says. SlipOfAThing has switched her pistol to aim at Juliet, and Leona debates, for a moment, aiming a pistol at her. It the spirit of solidarity, like. After a moment, she decides it can't hurt so long as she keeps at least one on Sombrero Man; he's the only one she's really worried about.

And, you know, Adonis should be here. Soon. ...this is what she gets for sending her bodyman across the city to pick up a pastry from that one shop that does them just right.

"Not a one of them speaks English, not that I can tell," she says. "I picked out a few choice phrases in Dutch. Now, we could waste them all and go on with our days quite well, but it's always a downer for the folks who have to get the blood off the street. You got any ideas?"

Translation: she'd rather not have to turn this outfit over to the Org's drycleaners. She was planning on wearing it out this evening.

[neverinportland]

Juliet sighs. "I speak Latin." Which is pretty much the only answer she has on that front. She doubts any idiot around here actually speaks it. It's only useful for Catholics and Others.

Still, calm soothing voices tend to work better than guns aimed at people's heads. She holds up her hands, palms up, gun pointed upwards. "I'm putting my gun down. I suggest you do the same. There's no reason for this to end badly for anyone," she explains slowly and deliberately.

[cookiesandhugs]

Gladys wouldn't call it being held hostage exactly. She just went along with the nice man and smiled as they sat her down in a chair and offered them cookies when they lifted the gun at her. Nothing to be alarmed about!

None of them accepted though, so when the man bursts into the room Gladys just turns around as much as she thinks she can without getting in too much trouble with her captors, and holds up the large baggie of cookies.

"Sugar, or chocolate chip?" she asks with a grin.

[borntosingblues]

The two guys have already decided that they probably kidnapped the wrong little old lady and when the cops bust in, they throw their hands up and just look mildly relieved.

Presley, for his part, just eyes Gladys a bit and then takes one hand off his gun to lift his hat in her direction. "Evenin', ma'am. You appear to be in a hostage situation."

[cookiesandhugs]

Gladys is kind of oblivious to the fact that the men that kidnapped her are just giving up. She was kind of oblivious to their discomfort in the first place. It's just her way.

"Oh, I don't think that's what it was. Do you think that's what it was?" She turns to her captors. "Well, no matter. It wasn't any big deal. I was just asking these nice young men if their mothers knew they were out and about this late, and then I asked them if they wanted a cookie. Nothing to worry about, officer." She beams at him and shakes the bag in his direction. "What about you, young man? Would you like a cookie? Or ooo, I think I left my bag on the street--it was sort of a swoop-up, you see, these poor young men were in such a rush they didn't have the time to let me go back and get it. No matter, it's probably still there. Anyway, I have BROWNIES in my big bag if you'd like one."

The smile is still there and somehow still genuine. Don't ask her how she does it--it's sort of just who she is.

[borntosingblues]

Presley, being from Tennessee and having a rather overzealous southern grandmother, takes all of that in stride. He is probably the only person in the world who would. He just calmly walks over to the two men and cuffs them, nodding along to Gladys's story.

"Well, ma'am. I think I'd love a brownie. Awful kind of you to offer. Just let me get these two boys to the car and we can see about gettin' your other bag. Won't be no trouble at all." He beams at her and then proceeds to smack both men upside their heads. "Idjits. Your mamas didn't teach you nothin' about how to treat a lady?" He shoves them towards the door where they're promptly collected by his partner.

[omnomnomface]

Glance at your pursuers, Gray. Now back to the girl you're snogging. She's got her arms around you and is beaming into the kiss. Back to your pursuers. Now back to the girl. There may be tongue.

She pulls away for a second and beams.

"Good morning to you too, starshine!" she says.

Oh dear.

[leosarecynical]

Gray jerks away. NO MAS TONGUE. NO MAS. "Whoa. I know that was a bit forward of me, hon, but, uh... That don't mean what it looked like."

Yeah, because that's totally gonna be a reasonable explanation. He glances over his shoulder. OH HEY, PEOPLE ARE STILL CHASING HIM. He glances back at the girl.

"Wish I could explain, but I gotta get."

He darts down the alley. PURSUE YOUR MAN, TRIN. PUUUURSUE.

[omnomnomface]

Trin's all over the pursuing.

"Wait!" she yells as she starts after him. "I'm not into long-term! It's okay! I promise! I'm looking for anything BUT longterm! Was it bad for you? I'm really sorry, okay, I'm kind of forward too and I guess we just didn't know how forward to go we can hit reverse now I swear! Don't run off! Please don't run off! My name's Trin, Trinity McFasater, what's yours?"

She's easily sticking with him--Trin's a fast runner, though faster on four legs than two.

"Where do you have to go to? What's going on? Why did you kiss me? I DESERVE ANSWERS!" she wails. If there's one thing Trin won't stand for, it's a breakup that doesn't end in tears and blood. Not that they were dating. Whatever, it's all the same to Trin.

[leosarecynical]

Gray whirls around so that he's sort of half-jogging backwards. "Name's Gray. You're a little young for me, darlin'. It was kinda spur-of-the-moment. It wasn't that bad. I'm bein' chased by a couple of guys who wanna beat me into the ground."

He turns back forwards and keeps on jogging, hoping that one of those answers will be enough to get her off his back. Goddammit. You just can't kiss girls on the street anymore and get away with it like you used to.