Nicholas Caldwell (from wetheinvincible)

[mm_danii]

A drunk should be in a bar, really. It's just the safest place for them in a city. Of course, the bar has it's dangers, but they're no where near as bad as outside where the lights are almost non-existant and there's no bartender to make sure it doesn't get too nasty

Comments

[mm_azy]

Axel feels the world twist a little nearby, and he looks over with some interest. That sort of thing doesn't happen so often that it can be overlooked, and there's always the chance that it's someone looking for him, which would be bad.

[mm_danii]

Nick doesn't look back. He feels the eyes on him, what performer wouldn't?, but he doesn't look back.

That would be Bad.

Instead, he knocks on the bar and asks for another beer.

[mm_azy]

Axel looks back to his own drink after a moment - something transparent, and very strong, that he has to make a constant effort to not ignite. The problem with trying to get drunk when you're Fire.

[mm_danii]

"It was the TV special, wasn't it?"

...he's assuming Axel's "recognized" him.

[mm_lettie]

Nevermind that Marissa had been heading inside to her house a moment later.

As it is, she's in (furry) red robes and is very much apple-cheeked.

"...oh, for the love of Merlin." Had someone turned her doorknob into a portkey?

[mm_danii]

He perks up.

"Merlin? Knew him in college."

Then he flops back down.

[mm_lettie]

There is much in the way of blinking.

Then she arches a bar at the man. "I'm sure."

[mm_danii]

"Well," he asserts from his spot on the bar, his head turning to mush his cheek to the counter, "I knew a guy who's parents had named him Merlin. Hippies. I think he's in the software industry now."

[last_the_month]

You do what you have to do to survive.

This is something that has been drilled into Eben Olemaun's head since he was a child. When you lived at the top of the world survival of you and your loved ones mattered first. If that meant sacrificing electricity so that they could keep warm, it meant that, if it meant drinking human blood...

But he's dead, at least that was his reasoning, and therefore survival shouldn't matter. He was sick of being plied with the stuff, sick of giving in and sick of well...being. He was already dead goddamnit, why the fuck wouldn't the universe let him go already?

The longer you spend without feeding, the deeper the hunger. His muscles are tied in knots, his chest heaving. He's got a glass of water, a nice big glass of water, untouched on the bar in front of him.

It is taking all of the energy that he has to not turn around and attack someone behind him. Perhaps someone could prevent this? Or at least...calm the poor guy down?

[cracking_mirror]

A hand claps on his shoulder.

"Settle down, friend," Nick says cheerfully.

[last_the_month]

Eben jerks, flinching away from the touch, "It's not a good idea to be touching me right now."

It's meant to sound friendly, a good natured warning. It sounds like something coming out of a synthesizer, a rock band sort of noise, "For your-" The word is strangled, "Protection."

He can hear it, oh yes, hear it, taste it, smell it, pounding, pounding going through it's cycles in the man's chest, his veins-

This was a bad idea. Eben jerks again,
People clutch tables all the time. People don't normally clutch tables hard enough to splinter them like he's doing right now.

[cracking_mirror]

Nick was a little far in his cups, which is why he misses the obvious signs. Instead, he just hears a standoffish guy who needs to lighten up a little.

"This is a bar, man," he says, swaying a little. "Usually they're good for soc-soc-soc-- being friendly. And drinking, which hey, you look like you need a drink."