(no subject)

[out_on_the_mat]

Being sick sucked, worse, though, was coming around again and remembering what he'd been up to while he was sick. He'd cleaned up, and shaved, plus there was the clothes he'd been wearing, the accent, and he'd been robbed, and the scientific weirdo who had been living in his head had disassembled his robot remote.

The clean room was too much to take. Charlie can't find anything now that it was all put away, or make sense of the swirly lettered notes and sketches he'd done as 'Leopold', plus it unnerved him that some strange guy had washed his underwear (they'd been hanging on a neat line in the bathroom), so Charlie checked out of there.

Charlie was going to burn the clothes he'd been wearing as 'Leopold', but the fish in the fireplace kind of freaked him out, so he settled for stuffing the fancy clothes in a trashcan, instead.

Now, back in his usual T-shirt and jeans (both of them freshly laundered), and sporting just a bit of stubble, Charlie is sitting at a table with his remote, trying to put the stupid thing back together.

Getting his money back is a small consolation, but he's still pissed about being played, the hallucination flu thing, and the fact that he has no idea where all these tiny screws go, even with the carefully detailed drawings 'Leopold' left behind from disassembling the remote.

He's still botherable, though, but might chase anyone away who looks like they've got the sniffles.

(no subject)

[protect_and_survey]

Jemma Simmons is beginning to wonder if she's ever going to make it back to SciOps.

She isn't entirely sure if it was early this morning or very late last evening, but she was definitely relieved to wake up in her own living room. The relief hadn't lasted long - she felt like she'd gone on a pub crawl, the rooms were trashed, and her hands were... well. Last time they'd looked that beaten was when she'd gotten stuck in one of the containment rooms and tried to break one of the observation windows.

Fitz's lock had worked. He'd be happy to know that... once he got here. Drat.

After locating what must have been the last whole glass in the kitchen and drinking her weight again in water, she'd checked to make sure the samples had survived, and went to go curl up on the couch to sleep. The rest of the mess could wait until later in the morning.

Now that it was later in the morning, and she'd managed to scrounge an outfit that wasn't dreadful, she's downstairs - goodness knows there's no way anything's going to be cooked in the apartment's kitchen. She is quite aware that she looks a fright, but she's starving, and in desparate need of tea.

She's rewarded with soup, tea, and a note. Jemma reads it, her already washed-out color paling further. Seriously. She just doesn't understand how she gets into these messes.

(no subject)

[andinfluencepeople]

[Sometime in the past two weeks:

Upstairs: Chuck can't sleep. ]

A letter for Jemma Simmons

[starrydome]

 Elrond mainly wants to talk with Jemma to apologise for acting strange when last they met. He is also curious about the blood sample. 

He hasn't seen her since then and so he writes her a note and leaves it with Bar. 

It ends up being very official looking, mostly because he does not know her very well and doesn't wish to make her uncomfortable by being overly familiar. 

Heavy paper, lovely penmanship. ( Miss Jemma Simmons  )

(no subject)

[street_sparrow]

Distributed to everyone Gavroche considers a friend, and not everyone in general because he's at least trying to be subtle about breaking the second rule.

A piece of paper mocked up to look a bit like a wanted poster, with drawings of le_sergent and femme_a_soldat, and a note reading: "These people are liars, cheats, thieves and bullies. Trust them at your own risk."

(no subject)

[cute_bruiser]

After this, Molly has a note to write for the rest of Security; normally it's her least favourite part of the job, but today it's been eclipsed by the joys of manhandling a couple of belligerent idiots who reek like they were born in a sewer.

At any rate, she finally comes up with this:

Guys,

Two new prisoners in the cells, Thing 1 (probably male) and Thing 2 (probably female), for some of the most blatant trampling on rules 2 and 3 that I've ever seen. Caught them pointing a sword at someone called Fonteen Fantine, threatening to drag her back to their 'verse and start breaking bones and worse, if she didn't pay them money they reckoned she owed them. They shoved her into a table and tried to push me about as well when I got involved.

Never got their names. Thing 1 was slightly more co-operative than Thing 2, but I think that's just cos he's the bigger coward.

Suggest whoever lets them out gives them a good grounding in the rules, cos they sure as hell weren't gonna listen to me.

Sentence: seven nights. They were belij beligu aggressive and whiny and bullying and acted like they had no idea they'd done anything wrong, so they can learn about penalties. Also they gave me a headache.

Can we get a truckload of aspirin in? I think they're the kind of stink that hangs around.

Xx Molly
(the adult one)

PS - Thing 1 will probably complain that I broke his sword cos he wouldn't stop pointing it at me. He's welcome to the bits of it if he wants.

PPS - Wear ear plugs: Thing 2's got a tendency to shriek.

Job done, she pins the note to the Security board with a handful of purple and pink drawing pins before going to find Atton Jaq and borrow his shower to get the muck off. Fantine's present goes with her, carefully folded up and tucked into her pocket.

So much for a quiet life...

Father Harman's Monday

[witchfinder_general]

The cells had been a quiet place to think  and find himself again, until on Saturday evening, two people had been dragged in, a Frenchman and his wife, who were put into separate cells and then proceeded to air their domestic agreements and disagreements at theatrical noise levels at all hours. It was made worse by the fact that Father Harman had a good idea who they must be, as he'd met a much more helpful compatriot of theirs already. Twice.

When he was let out by the grim Goth this morning, he had found himself a thermos of tea, and then gone upstairs to room 79i, and started researching vampires in earnest. He found the library impressive beyond words - much larger on the inside, to start with, and then all those astonishing books from all over the multiverse, from musty vellum tomes to crisp modern academic monographs. Some books were more astonishing than other, though. One of them, published in a place called 'Diagon Alley' had bitten him on the edge of his hand in an entirely unexpected and worrying way. But all in all, he had made good headway, set up a research desk for himself and made a list of books he wants to look at before he leaves this place, and started making excerpts. All those vampire-plagued worlds gave an excellent set of blueprints for the threat potential that hung over his own world, complete with statistics. While he is holed up here, waiting for the incubation persiod of the flu to pass, he will use his time for research.

The evening, however, finds Father Harman by the fireplace, with a fresh, proper pot of tea and a mere two books, one called 'The Voodo Wars -- History and Hype', the other 'A Concise History of Independencia'. He is reading the first, and sometimes looking up references in the second, and generally seems quite content at the moment.

Of course he will welcome any attempt at conversation.


[[OOC: Find him either in the library, or later in the bar by the fireplace!]]

(no subject)

[never_shall_yield]

 

Adding to the general noise regarding the bar's two newest troublemakers, Javert - after some deliberation - also leaves a note for Security.