(no subject)

[evilontheloose]

First, business: a styrofoam box is left with Bar for Bonzo Madrid to pick up at his leisure. If anyone mentioned it, Jordan would be surprised to find out it is not monday night, but saturday.

Milli-time likes to play tricks.

Second, leisure, of the kind you get when you are an evil genius with an appetite for deadly toys: she heads out to the firing range, and after a bit of setting up, starts to test her new guns, the arm one and the just-finished pistols.

Pretty explosions and flashes of light...



[ Open until it falls off ]

(no subject)

[pickyourmoments]

[OOM: The One Where Gum is Perfection]

Chandler's outside, and he's found an awesome new way to melt snow! He's got a lighter, and a can of hairspray that he'd stolen from Monica's bathroom, and if he holds the two just right, he can get a really impressive flame thrower action going...

Oh, dear god, this can only end badly.

Fake!Tag: Chandler Bing

(no subject)

[thanksrainman]

Gus is at a table, surrounded by newspapers. He’s been working his way through dozens of copies of the Oregonian, the Bulletin, and has even tried the Columbian, because sometimes they get bored and look beyond the river for a good story.

He doesn’t feel safe doing this at the public library, because he’s still afraid of implicating himself. The case still is still open, more or less. So, secure in the relative safety of the No Business rule, he’s determined to figure out what everyone thinks happened in January.

( So far, he’s found out... )

The suspicious lack of any mention of federal involvement doesn’t exactly sit easily with Gus. In fact, the whole thing just reeks of bodged cover-up. But that all works out for him just fine. Even if he didn’t get all the money, he still got away with it. For now.

Quite botherable.

[*This is, in fact, not even remotely close to what actually happened.]

(no subject)

[keptherwaiting.livejournal.com]

Unlike last time, Jasper has no real reason to get away from Forks. He's just here. Outside, at the edge of the forest, leaning against a tree and digging at the snow in front of him with his boot. For appearances, he's got on a winter coat and his hands are shoved deep in the pockets.

He may look bored but he's tracking an animal deep in the woods, his hearing focused and gaze sharp. He's not going to hunt it. He'd much rather hunt what's inside the bar (or those guys playing with fire), but following the animal's progress keeps him from entertaining the idea.

He's harmless right now. Honest.

(no subject)

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

Charlie bounces from rafter to rafter, practicing acrobatics without a net. Or much training. But he's restless today. And it's a bit cold out for anything that will take the edge off.

If you look up, you might see him leap to and fro. Say hi if you wish. He might reply.

(no subject)

[hallelujahpilot]

[OoM: Happy Birthday, Trudy Chacon]

(no subject)

[agent99]

[ After this, upstairs: 99 and Kirk work towards a better understanding. ]


[ tiny tag: agent 99 ]

Lakeshore, afternoon

[scots_wolf]

There are many trees in the forest, and many branches in the trees, and there is snow on most of them.

Among all those trees, there is a special one, carefully chosen. It's both hidden well at about thirty yards from the edge of the forest, and still affords a vigilant man in its branches a clear line of sight to the forge, the back entrance and the lake-shore.

A man, say, with a small crossbow that can still hit accurately at about seventy yards, and can easily pierce armour or bone at close range.

If there was such a man in that tree. As far as anybody can see, there is not. There is a big snow-drift in the fork between the trunk and the strongest branch, but that is normal, isn't it?

And anyway, who says that professional killers must always wear black when white would be much more convenient at times?

It is afternoon now, the sun up long enough that the smith, who is working in the forge with the door open, will finish his work by daylight -- soon, presumably -- and walk to the lake-shore, to pour out the buckets of used water at his ice-hole, and roughly scrub forge-grimed arms and face before going up for a bath.

Soon, he will come out...



[[OOC: Plot-locked, say sorry, to you-know-who-you-are.]]
WARNINGS for sex, violence, blood, and death!!

(no subject)

[likesthecoat]

Ianto Jones is writing in his diary and having coffee.

There's a lot of catching up to do--things happen fast sometimes, and it wasn't but two pages ago that he was missing Jack and wondering what he'd say if Jack ever returned, and now...

Well, Ianto doesn't use a lot of exclamation points, as a general rule. But one or two may have turned up in today's entry.

(no subject)

[noteful]

Meg has picked a table slightly out of the main flow of things and with good light this evening.

She is ignoring both the neat pile of notebooks to her right and the mug of cocoa just above it.

As she is, at present, occupied with painting her fingernails with pale pink polish.

(no subject)

[ellectrical]

She'd meant to enter her motel room, but when it's the Bar that appears on the other side of the door, Elle doesn't complain. She's rolling her suitcase along with her, and she steps through the threshold, closing the door quietly, and heading straight through the room, for the bar. Her hair is down, her head tilted so that it falls over her face.

Anyone with heightened senses could smell the blood-stained shirt beneath her green sweater, but she's done a good job of concealing it otherwise.

By the time she reaches the bar, she's favoring her left side. Elle stops, and shuffles in place for a moment before kneeling down next to her suitcase, and pulling a small, paper-thin brown bag from the outside pocket. Them she moves forward, and asks for a pen and a piece of a paper.

A few minutes later, there are two notes left with the Bar.

( For Anna Milton )

( For X-23 )

Elle may not be the most eloquent writer. But the notes and pen disappear, and she pulls herself up onto one of the stools, leaning heavily on the bar as she does so. When a glass of water and small plate with two aspirin appear in front of her, Elle for once doesn't question it.