(Untitled)

[themanclion]

Gene hasn't been here in...God, about eight months. And he's glad to have stumbled upon the place again because he could do with a respite from the stuff going on back in Fenchurch. So he turns back in the doorway and simply lobs the paperwork under his arm back in the vague direction of his desk (it can bloody well wait) and shuts the door firmly

Comments

[pickyourmoments]

Rocks? Of course not! How would that be fun at all?

"That thing doesn't really seem to get much use," Chandler points out, as though suggesting that it may somehow be defective (aside from the fact that some yob has attacked it with a bunch of claw hammers).

[themanclion]

'Ain' surprised, the state of it.'

Bar presents him with a set of red darts which he glares at until they go away, an air of intense amusement emanating from the wood.

He lights a cigarette, glances at the Yank and then starts picking at one of the dents.

'Maybe some god's been chuckin' human heads at it while they're still attached.'

[pickyourmoments]

Chandler seems quite amused by this prospect. "I must have missed that one," he says.

Perhaps frighteningly, he seems disappointed to have missed it.

[themanclion]

It certainly earns him a suspicious sort of glare.

'I ain't sayin' it happened. Jus' that it might've.'

What kind of nutter would want to watch gods throwing humans at a dartboard?

...well OK, with a certain type of human, it might be alright. But still, in general, no.

[lady_bols]

Alex has rather gotten used to the idea that when she can't sleep, and she's bored of flipping through the channels on the telly, that she can slip through here and have a lovely couch with a fire place to curl up on. A lovely overstuffed velvet couch, in muted earth tones. Not that geometric monstrosity that looks like some infant psychology test gone horribly wrong.

She's currently tucked up on said couch, in her polka dot silk dressing gown, a cup of tea at her elbow, painting her toenails.

He is the last person she ever expected to see her. (Well, that's not entirely true, is it? Be honest, Alex. You've met his earlier incarnation. You've been waiting for your Gene to show up, haven't you? Ever since New Year's. You've been hoping for it.) She desperately wishes her dreams had let her pick a more appropriate attire than this.

He stalks passed her to the bar, and she watches with wide dark eyes, wondering if he'll even notice that she's here.

(It's just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.)

[themanclion]

She'll see him notice the state of the dartboard, swear profusely at it then go and get a replacement. She'll see him drink half a glass of wine in one mouthful and follow it with a whiskey. And then she'll see him scare a guy into running out of the bar, put the new board up and calmly take a couple of practice throws, cigarette dangling from his lips.

'You playin' or what, Bols? Don' worry, I won' look down your nightie.'

Yeah, like he'd ever not notice her in a room.

[lady_bols]

"Give me five minutes. I'm still wet."

She's finishing up the last little pinkie toe, silently cursing Morpheus. Of all the incarnations of Gene she'd ever wish up in a dream, this one wants to play darts.

"Haven't seen you in here before." Just a harmless, casual observation.

[themanclion]

He bites back the first response that comes to mind and turns back to the board. Another throw, then he takes his jacket off and loosens his tie further, takes another throw.

'Yeah you 'ave.'

[nitro_is_ace]

Someone snickers from down the bar.

That'd be the someone with the bomber jacket and the fried paradoxes and the pile of paperwork, yup.

"Our equipment not up t'y'standards, Guv?"

[themanclion]

'You again!'

Said in the tones of someone actually quite glad to see said 'you'.

'Not up t'anyone's standards, luv. Have you seen this? Some Yankee git threw 'ammers at it.'

[nitro_is_ace]

"Well, yeah, most of the bar seems t'think football is a game played by neanderthals in spandex pants." It took her ages to find someone who actually knew what the game was, never mind someone who'd play. "The vast majority of the folk here are either from the other side of the pond or decidedly non-human, in a smug sort of way."

Ace tends to get on slightly better with the nonhumans than the Americans. This, of course, is par for the course.

[themanclion]

'So it's normal f'Yanks to use hammers instead of arrows?'

Maybe it really was just that the game has been hijacked by them across the water.

'I feel bad about scarin' the life out of the culprit now.

...oh wait, no I don'.'

[themanclion]

He glances at her, takes in the new hair and uniform with no expression.

'Yeah, arrows.'

He gestures at them on the bar.

'Darts. I take it you don' play.'

[themanclion]

'Most days.'

Killing time in the office, taking his frustration out on the board, whatever. And in the pub on weekends, obviously.

'Wan' a game? Or don' you know how?'