[[OOC: Will be slowtimed as I'm going camping Friday-Saturday. But these bitches was bleedoverin]]

Rusty Hunt stands outside of the Gauche waiting for Rachel Conway. He doesn't want to do this, but every time he closes his eyes he sees Bambi on that cross, and he has missed Rachel even if it feels wrong to say it. Especially with Adrian being so ( Read more... )

[OOC: This happens after this. This is a party thread. Worst party thread ever. Post in your characters' reactions to the cross or have your character respond to another characters. Even if it's reactions to the news story on it or hearing about it. Also, feel free to update character journals about this. I imagine the cross won't be displayed for ( Read more... )

It's a good thing Rachel Conway likes coffee. She's sure drinking a lot of it these days. Not that she wouldn't anyway--she's been known to joke that if anyone ever tried to get a blood sample, there'd be no blood, merely a 70/30 mix of coffee drinks and cherry cola ( Read more... )

Kat is in a coffee shop, looking very, very tired. She's trying to focus enough that the caffeine in her cup of coffee doesn't break down before it hits her system. Which is very difficult, considering she's tired. But at least the caffeine molecules breaking apart gives her some sense of energy. Not as much as the caffeine itself, but she's pretty ( Read more... )

((OOC: Heather, we can do the Dan thing here if you'd like. Backdate their thread to right before this post))

Martha Jones is walking from the Conrad back to her home. Yes, walking. She spent the last half hour paralyzed after an attempt to slow down the progression of the poison in Dan. The last Dan died in this world. She refuses to let this one ( Read more... )

The staff of the Luna Bar may be forgiven for thinking Rachel is making a habit of Saturday nights and bottles of Patron Silver. It was just last Saturday night, after all, that she had her epic tequila-downing and lime-slaying adventure with Mr. Sark; here it is a scant seven days later, and the fullness of the week has apparently given way to ( Read more... )

Rachel Dawes has spent the past forty-eight hours holed up in one of the conference rooms at the Conrad. Eating and sleeping take a backseat to gathering as much information as she possibly can. It's only until she realizes she's read the same sentence of her research notes at least ten times that she decides she needs a moment to recollect herself ( Read more... )

Jo is doing a lot of stuff today.

Firstly, she's in Chinatown washing dishes. The owner of the restaurant doesn't speak much English, but that just means less questions and she pays in cash. She hasn't worked in a while, and she broke a few dishes ( Read more... )

It's a warm day in Chicago. Too hot out to exercise, some would say. Others would scoff and stick to their usual workout, as proof of their commitment to physical fitness. Or perhaps to show off their badassery.

Rachel Conway falls firmly into that first camp. Usually she's got her bike ride to and from work to the Conrad for her daily bout of ( Read more... )

It's another slow Monday mid-morning at Twice Sold Tales. Not quite so deadly as the last time the narration visited this establishment on a Monday morning; there are a few people hanging around the store. There just aren't as many as you'd find much later in the day ( Read more... )