(no subject)
Jan. 29th, 2012 02:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
When Nikola enters the bar this evening, his usually immaculate appearance is somewhat marred by the blood splattered on his clothes (and his face and his hands and his--gasp--hair).
He doesn't appear to be injured at all, though. And his expression is smugly self-satisfied--not that this is anything unusual. He makes his way up to the bar and has a seat as though there is not at all odd about going to a bar covered in blood.
"Could I have a glass of Atlantean and a handkerchief, please, dear?"
He doesn't appear to be injured at all, though. And his expression is smugly self-satisfied--not that this is anything unusual. He makes his way up to the bar and has a seat as though there is not at all odd about going to a bar covered in blood.
"Could I have a glass of Atlantean and a handkerchief, please, dear?"