Santino at bar a table, people-watching pleasently. In Soviet Russia, people watch you!

Come bother, before any more Yakov Smirnoff jokes let loose?

[OOC: Mun must run for half-an-hour to an hourish. WILL reply to tags when I get back, of course. Right, DEFINITELY back this time.]

(OOM: At night she dreams a love story.

And later, in a dark palace, there are games to be played.)

(Vaguely OOM: By the lake, there is some watching of sunsets and a great deal of unpleasantness.

Rated Y. For ‘Why did anyone think that it was a clever idea to put the three of them in the same place?’)

[OOM: For the birthday girl]

Santino moved into the bar, leaving behind a lovely black automobile. Jacket- black leather, new and fresh. Pants? Curdoroy, black. Shoes? Polished, black.

A lump of somekind in his pocket.

He sat down, awaiting company. He was hoping for one person, but would never shun more.

[OOC: Mun has to run for an hour and ( Read more... )

Another package is set on the bar, this time again with the gentle instruction 'for Styx.'

Then Jack Frost seats himself on a stool, and glances out over the bar, prepared for whatever might come his way.

With any luck, it'll be something interesting.

There’s a slight crash as a tall figure stumbles into the bar ( Read more... )

The Lady Styx is back in the Bar once more. Long legs crossed in front of her and head tilted languidly, fingers slowly turning a glass of something red - the very picture of dark elegance.

Today she’s merely watching - dark eyes at half-mast - and, perhaps, waiting.

The Lady walks with purpose.

Her hips sway - an unheard beat, hypnotic - long and sleek and utterly devastating. Leans in a smooth curve against the Bar-top, black hair brushing the surface. Flowing in pure, dark lines.

“A present,” she whispers, fingers twirling a slow, swirling pattern. “Deliver with care.”

The Lady walks with purpose, dear - ( Read more... )

Well, up the goddess count in the Bar one more good citizens. Though I’m not exactly sure that you want this particular one.

Styx slowly - ever so slowly, no need to rush dear - saunters out from a darkened corner of the Bar. It's almost as if the shadows try desperately to cling to her, and after a moment she dismisses them with a indifferent ( Read more... )