'Early bird' jokes aside, Warren's not normally much of a morning person. So he's not quite fully awake as he shuffles into the kitchen in his pajamas, shirt crookedly half-buttoned and barely hiding the wings that bulge out oddly from his back, barely held in place with a belt that he probably wouldn't have bothered with were he able to get the ( Read more... )

"What the f---?" The last word is mouthed silently as a man enters the hotel with a stricken expression and covered with blood all over his black suit and white shirt. He's carrying a gun but he seems to have forgotten that it's in his hand and he's probably dripping blood all over the floor.

He looks around in confusion. "Where am I?"

Typist: ( Read more... )

Dean's in a lounge, playing with his weapons. No, really. There are guns littered about the table in front of him and he's cleaning them, intent and methodical. He's itching to shoot bad guys really, but those around seem far fewer and far less intent on killing him than he's used to. So the guns are really looking shiny now ( Read more... )

*It must be the day for Stargate people! Enter one Daniel Jackson, he too is in offworlding gear, and armed much in the same way as Lt. Col. Sheppard*

...What is this? Ah, I think we're experiencing some technical difficulties.

*he tries the walkie on his vest* Sam? Teal'c? Hello?

Great. Fantastic.

Connor had been doing some exploring and wound up in the kitchen. It seemed as good a place as any to hang out, and besides -- he needed coffee. He put the pot on, sat at the table, lit a cigarette, and waited.

Typist: Bored Connor. Come say hi!

Well, you cannot have one Saint without the other, of course ( Read more... )

"E nomini patri, et Fili, e spiritu sancti. Amen."

Connor cocked his gun, ready to fire. But when he looked up, the mafioso was gone. His brother was gone. The seedy apartment they had been in was gone.

"Where in the fuck -- how the -- what the fuck is goin' on here?"

Typist: Connor, from Boondock Saints. Taken post-movie.