(Untitled)

[ladys_choice]

Christian is in the bar. Sitting on a bar stool, chewing on a pen, an empty notebook in front of him. Well, not completely empty. There is one word on this very first page of it

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[comma_sticks]

Shannon sans entrance post yay is there, reading over his shoulder. It's rather hard to miss a word underlined thrice.

"Love?"

[ladys_choice]

Christian jumps with shock, nearly knocking over his... glass of milk?? Well, yes.

Turning and seing her, he gets a hold of himself again. "Ah, hallo. Sorry. I've been somwhere else..."

[comma_sticks]

She rolls her eyes. "Obviously."

Since introducing yourself is in vogue, or something: "I'm Shannon, by the way."

[ladys_choice]

"Nice to meet you. I'm Christian."

He looks at her sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

[renevatio]

Lincoln was perfectly fine -- aside from the usual turmoil of anxiety about the possibility of all his friends being cut up and dead while being stuck helpless at the Bat -- until he saw himself talking to a blonde woman he didn't recognize.

Now, Lincoln is staring. The other him-like person isn't dressed the same, and his hair is different, but it's definitely... him-like. He's even doing something with a pen and paper. Lincoln looks down at his own pile of sketches. He's a little bit in shock. Cautiously, he gets up and takes a seat next to the guy. He doesn't say anything yet, though. He's not sure what he can say.

[ladys_choice]

Christian notices someone sitting down next to him, but out of the corner of his eye he glimpses that it's neither a talking parrot nor some blood-sucking fiend and doesn't look closer. He's to busy trying to keep the conversation with blonde woman alive. He's badly out of practice...

[renevatio]

Curiosity has killed many things: this time the tragic victim is Lincoln's awkward silence. He peers over at the man's paper and sees the word written on it. LOVE. He clears this throat.

"What's that mean?"

[ladys_choice]

Christian turns but still doesn't really see the man. He seems somehow familiar but he's quite sure he hasn't met him before. But he can see the other looking into his notebook and at least gets the question. "Well, I couldn't think of anything to write about. I thought, love might be a good subject, but it just got in the way. -Excuse me, have we ever met before?"