(Untitled)

[howling_laugh]

Not so long after she just left, Coyote darts back into the bar. This time, she's wearing an eye-catchingly red dress, heels, and what might be product in her hair.

She hopes everyone got the memo about the dress code. This will get interesting pretty quickly, if not. Glancing around the bar for her victims volunteers, Coyote waits impatiently.

Comments

[hopeitsworthit]

Neither Dean nor Sam is wearing product. But they are loaded for bear --

And they look pretty sharp in tuxes, too. Even if Dean's got his version of the bitchface on. He fucking hates bowties.

And lapels.

They itch.

Sam thinks it's hilarious. Fucker.

He's gonna pay for all that laughing.

[walking_napalm]

"--Sam, right?"

Liz has, by now, been pressed into fireproof finery, and is carrying a trumpet case.

She doesn't look so startled at seeing her former co-bartender as one might expect; it comes from spotting him with a gun a couple weeks ago.

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah." He, in turn, looks a little startled -- and more than a little appreciative.

"Hey, Liz. You're along for the ride too, huh?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"Liz, huh?"

Dean's grin is a little too broad. At least he refrains from elbowing Sam in the ribs and saying 'good job, kiddo'.

"I'm Dean."

[untiedtheknots]

And here comes Contestant #3.

Artemis is very resolutely serenely not tripping over either the hem of her dress or her own feet. Her hair is the closest it gets to being in order and she carries her guitar case like a musician ready for a night out, rather than someone loaded for supernatural bear (or whatever the hell this thing turns out to be).

[anchor_branded]

Joris really has no qualms with wearing a tux. (Though it's all black with only a red tie to break up the monotomy- that's the current style in the Dynasty States.) He is used to wearing a uniform, so this isn't too odd-

The only problem was sorting through what to bring and what to leave behind! That's the part he's not too happy with, but there's only limited room with the jacket and vest to conceal weapons, and far less room for anything else.

[walking_napalm]

Liz first showed up in traditional all black (pants, combat boots, long-sleeved shirt, and stab vest, with a duffel bag over her shoulder and twin Berettas in their holsters), and was promptly informed that there was a dress code.

Fifteen minutes of arguing ("I don't wear colors!") and another ten minutes of dressing later, it becomes very, very clear which party lost the argument, as Liz steps out of the bathroom in a fireproof, slinky, off-the-shoulder aquamarine number with a draped, partially exposed back, and Coyote looks smug.

"All right, Bar," she says to the air, coming across to the nearest empty table. She comes as close to stomping while in heels as physically possible. "I know you can, so," she points at her head, where her long hair is down and her bangs are brushing her eyebrows, "fix this." Mid-stride, her hair becomes a sleek variation on a chignon; impeccable full makeup -- complete with lipstick and dramatically swooped eyeliner -- appears where she wore none before

[howling_laugh]

"It sets off your eyes," Coyote says, without expecting anyone to really be listening to her.

(She is, in fact, smug.)

[walking_napalm]

Liz ignores her.

A boot is slammed into the trumpet case with particular force, though.

[untiedtheknots]

"You look about as thrilled as I did."

Artemis gestures to her own (entirely too sparkly) dress.

[howling_laugh]

"Everyone ready? Excellent. Right this way."