(no subject)

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

The door isn't back yet, but that isn't a bad thing for the teenager who has taken over a table near the bar. Not a bad thing at all. Neither is the fact that most of his injuries and bruises have faded from their ugly purples and reds to just faint greens and yellows.

There is a piece of paper (with names on it) tucked into his vest pocket. He's kicked back in his chair, feet propped up on the chair across, and he's occasionally drinking from the bottle of ale he managed to swipe off someone's table when he came downstairs. They're not missing it, so there's no harm in it, in his eyes.

He's got a look in his eyes like he's in the middle of coming up with a really great (or really dangerous and exciting) idea, and a smug little smile on his face as he watches the room. He is looking for marks, but, he's always doing that. And tonight, there are more important things to think about.

Like how to swipe another ale.

Comments

[mago_sonriente]

"Sounds good to me," Carlos says with a nod. One to Han, one to Tony.

He did have one more thing to say to Tony.

"Try to keep in mind you're not at home, eh? Things are different around here and it's a lot less trouble to just roll with it."

And he stepped back.

"You're both free to go, cool?"

[superherotype.livejournal.com]

"Fine by me."

A small, grim smile. He gets accosted by somebody and he ends up getting lectured. Hrm. Definitely not at home, indeed.

But he walks off, because being the last to leave is so cliche.