(Untitled)

[cheevy]

The still slightly crippled hippie is in the bar. He remains unable to use his right arm, which is in a sling, but this is kind of okay -- he has a new toy.

It's a laptopNow, based on the way he is using it, it's fairly clear he really doesn't know what it does other than function as a typewriter hooked to a television screen. Since he can't

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[goodbyesandusky]

There was a young man not far off, working on a sketch, one that wasn't in his usual fashion design book, no, this was a completely different book, costumes for Mother, especially now that they had a new, better, venue.

He blinked up at the irrythmic clicking, gnawing on a thumbnail, "You... alright?"

[cheevy]

"Uh-huh."

Automatic reply.

Click... click...... click... Fuck, how do you make a... thingy? That thingy over the 8. Oh, maybe it was the way you make the capital letters.

One-handed keyboard acrobatics, right here, right now, funny faces no extra charge.

[goodbyesandusky]

He couldn't help but smile at that, just a little, "Sounds like you could use a secretary."

[cheevy]

"Hmm?"

He looks up finally, and smiles, seeing Clive. "Hi! Sorry. What?" He turns towards him, rubbing his arm. It's becoming a nervous habit, really.