(no subject)

[knowmymethods]

There is a James Watson in the bar this afternoon, considering the chessboard in front of him as he slips the buttons of his collar out of their corresponding holes. It would be easy to say he's contemplating the possible moves of a game in progress if there were one, but right now the board is set up perfectly to begin a game, no moves made.

He isn't even playing himself, but thinking about something utterly unrelated.

Completely botherable; he could use the distraction.

(no subject)

[yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com]

...Roadtrip, Mother knows nothing of this roadtrip you speak of. He is plainly in good clean clothes, doesn't smell a thing like RV funk, and humming under his breath as he walks up to the Bar. He's been looking for something to do lately, staying under the radar is good...mostly.

"Hey Bar? Could you get me something, my tab should be good for it, the Calender sales are still good...."

See not that long ago, Fiona Glenanne suggested that he get copies of whatever documents any agencies might have on him.

Which is why, when he asks for them...five sturdy storage boxes appear on Bar's surface for him, and...well.

Look, the end result is this, you've got a forty-something geek conspiracy theorist who is out right cackling over every page he's reading. And when Mother isn't doing that, he's whistling 'zippity do da' and sorting out the papers into his own fashion.

Poke him, please, before he gets designs into his head to prank the CIA.

Happy Hour!

[mogget_cat]

Yrael sighs when he sees the napkin appear instead of the plate of fresh fish he'd ordered.

"I see the price of a meal has gone up considerably."

An answering napkin appears.

"No need to get snippy," he replies, wry, resting a hand on the bar top. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it. Go get some rest."

Soon, he has the Specials Board up, declaring in lime-green chalk:

Happy Hour!
All the following are 1/2 price:
Cat and Fiddle
Fishing for the Sun
Fishbone
Green Milkshake
Milky Way
25% off all wine


So what if his mind is still on the food he's been denied? >_>

"Happy Hour, everyone!" he calls, stretching. "Choose your poison."