Post by reid on Dec 4, 2010 3:37:48 GMT -5
(OOC) Because I rolled a 17, I get to do mortal kombat with the first person to post here. Disclaimer done, annnnnd.....FIGHT!
(BIC) A velvet red tie with maroon stripes swished in the fierce gust that shrieked through the door like a late-night ghast. The tie fluttered and settled at the neck of a smirking young burnout of a man, with dark brown locks matted down beneath a shapely cotton fedora. The evening sun peeked in over his shoulders before vanishing behind the door as he forced it shut behind him. The man turned to the bar and cast a stony yet casual gaze around the place.
The scruffy male supposed it was as good a place for a 10 minute break as any. The smell of bourbon and butterbeer was strong, but the place was pretty well kept. At least, it looked vastly more flattering and customer-friendly than the place just down the street. Freaking zombies thought they'd be clever and round up some fresh humans with a bar of their own. Rather than dirty his own hands with it the cleanup though, he figured he'd just stick to what he did best, and wow the ministry with some colorful and chunky paragraphs of human carnage in the bars, in the next issue of The Auger. After all, he had stories to write, and hearts to sway.
This here was just a pit stop.
The cuffs of his long-sleeved dress shirt had some wrinkles present, and his eyelids also had two or three bags. Thankfully his new slacks still looked good and pressed, though his black dress shoes were a bit scuffed from all the hustle and bustle of underground tunnels he had to shove his way through in the past few days. The guy had a long night of editing to do on top of the loads of paperwork that he had to sort over these last 10 harrowing nights. Not even his old friend narcolepsy would chill with him for very long, as he always had some coffee coursing through his system. And what do you know? A coffee was what he called out for, along with a house special.
An interesting antipode this would make, for sure. He just better not get decaff.
(BIC) A velvet red tie with maroon stripes swished in the fierce gust that shrieked through the door like a late-night ghast. The tie fluttered and settled at the neck of a smirking young burnout of a man, with dark brown locks matted down beneath a shapely cotton fedora. The evening sun peeked in over his shoulders before vanishing behind the door as he forced it shut behind him. The man turned to the bar and cast a stony yet casual gaze around the place.
The scruffy male supposed it was as good a place for a 10 minute break as any. The smell of bourbon and butterbeer was strong, but the place was pretty well kept. At least, it looked vastly more flattering and customer-friendly than the place just down the street. Freaking zombies thought they'd be clever and round up some fresh humans with a bar of their own. Rather than dirty his own hands with it the cleanup though, he figured he'd just stick to what he did best, and wow the ministry with some colorful and chunky paragraphs of human carnage in the bars, in the next issue of The Auger. After all, he had stories to write, and hearts to sway.
This here was just a pit stop.
The cuffs of his long-sleeved dress shirt had some wrinkles present, and his eyelids also had two or three bags. Thankfully his new slacks still looked good and pressed, though his black dress shoes were a bit scuffed from all the hustle and bustle of underground tunnels he had to shove his way through in the past few days. The guy had a long night of editing to do on top of the loads of paperwork that he had to sort over these last 10 harrowing nights. Not even his old friend narcolepsy would chill with him for very long, as he always had some coffee coursing through his system. And what do you know? A coffee was what he called out for, along with a house special.
An interesting antipode this would make, for sure. He just better not get decaff.