(no subject)

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee, awake in the wee hours of the night, is feeling a bit bored and frivolous.

So, he sits at the bar with a glass of gin, a mirror, and a catalogue of fashion sunglasses. Each time he comes across a pair that he likes, he asks the Bar for it so he can try them on, even taking selfies with his smartphone to see how he looks in photos with them.

It's an utterly vain way to pass the time. But whatever.

Eventually he collects a small pile of favorites, but can't decide which one to keep.

(no subject)

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve Rogers sits in a booth where he can see the Observation Window.

A sketchbook is open on the table in front of him. His drawing is of a white cow in a snowstorm.



...which is to say, the pages are blank.

He's too busy staring unhappily out of the window to draw.

(no subject)

[deadeye_shot]

{oom: Mustang and Hawkeye are summoned to Central to deal with the Freezing Alchemist.}

There's something odd about Hawkeye when she enters the bar from her door today, bringing in a gust of rainy wind with her.

Ah. She's donned civilian clothes.

She's wearing a short-sleeved, form-fitting black turtleneck, a long turquoise duster, and a matching pencil skirt with a slit up the side, as well as sensible boots. Don't underestimate her, however: she's still armed to the teeth, with two pistols holstered at her back and one strapped to her thigh. Her long, blonde hair is down from its customary clip, reaching the middle of her back and clinging to the nape of her neck and her face where the tendrils are soaked.

She shuts the door behind her, closing her wet umbrella. As she approaches Miss Bar, a towel appears, as well as a plate of pineapple and a fork. Hawkeye favors the counter with a small smile, and towels off her hair. Then she sits down and takes up the fork.

She's only tried pineapple once before. It's rare in her country, as transporting the fruit from the tropics is difficult. She remembers the last birthday before her mother died, when the young Riza was given pineapple. To everyone's surprise, she adored the juicy, yellow fruit.

This time, she hesitates, wondering if the taste will be as good as she remembers. Her lips part, and she places a small piece on her tongue.

Bliss.

The flavor bursts in her mouth, juice pooling on her tongue. She closes her eyes. For anyone listening very, very closely, the noise of deep contentment she makes is practically indecent.