(no subject)

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* If there are any more depressed characters slumped over at the bar tonight drinking and being generally pissy, then they'd do well to stay clear of Indy. Cos Indiana Jones looks like the most pathetic tragedy this bar has ever played host to... at least tonight. You can almost hear the angst. There's a half empty bottle of Scotch in front of him, indicating a more traditional hangover cure has been employed over the early part of the evening. And he looks like actual shit... not just the proverbial version. Through the frequent groans and growls he can be heard muttering to himself angrily on occasion *

* If I didn't know him better, I'd say he's quite happy being left alone tonight. But I do know him better, thankfully, and all he probably needs is an understanding friend... or Hyde? *

Comments

[bloody-tired.livejournal.com]

She stalks up to him. "You great bloody wanker! Where have you been? And what have you been doing?"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* She receives nothing more than a thankless grunt for her pains *

[bloody-tired.livejournal.com]

And he receives a smack to the head for his troubles. "Talk!"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Ow fuck!

* if its possible, he seems even more aggravated now as he rubs at the area of contact *

Jesus. Let a man drink in peace can'tcha?

[bloody-tired.livejournal.com]

"No." It's not Jenny's night with drinks. She grabs the bottle of scotch and pours it down Indy's back. "Where have you been?"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* he barely moves as the liquor flows easily down his back, drenching his already stained shirt. Rolling his shoulders uncomfortably, he turns to her with a grim expression *

You wanna know? FINE! Where should I start? Perhaps with the fact that I'm now bound... or the fact that my ex is engaged to the goddess of Fortune... or the fact that one of dearest friends saw something she didn't like and will probably never talk to me again?

* still frowing, he tilts his head and looks at her expectantly *

[bloody-tired.livejournal.com]

"Right. So life's a piece of shit. This explains you running off, why?"

When you've lived through two world wars, one great depression, and more shit than you want to remember, this list of inconviniences is not impressive.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

I've been around. Seems I'm not going anywhere else anytime soon. So... I've been taking advantage of my predicament.

* he grins smugly and raises his glass to her to illustrate, draining it and gesturing silently to the now empty bottle as Alan looks over inquiringly *

[bloody-tired.livejournal.com]

"Well, you know, this predicament has *other* advantages." She moves in such a way as would be provactive, except for the undertone of I'm going to kick you ass about it.

[andmisterhyde.livejournal.com]

Hyde avoids angst like the plague. When he's not avoiding it, he's laughing at it.

So he sits in his booth and lobs a carefully constructed notebook paper-ball at Indy's head.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* It bounces off the top of his hat and rolls onto the counter innocuously. It was always going to be innocuous... it was just a ball of paper after all *

* Indy stares at it for a while, seeming to already know who was responsible. He crushes the ball tightly in his fist and flips it over his shoulder casually, back towards Hyde's booth. The aim seems true as it arcs smoothly through the air... *

[andmisterhyde.livejournal.com]

It lands in Hyde's coffee. He stares at it.

You realize, of course, that this means war.

He rips another piece of paper out of his notebook and folds it nice an' good.

There's now a paper airplane zinging towards Indy's head.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* Paper airplanes are notoriously difficult to direct with any precision. It doesn't look good for Hyde's attempt really, and the plane curves away from Indy. But at the last second the front door opens and a blast of wintery air pushes the missile back on course. It prangs into the back if Indy's neck *

* Possibly a little amused, he still doesn't turn around. Instead he takes a napkin and wraps a handful of bar snacks in it - twisting the top and successfully forming a rather well balanced nut bomb *

* He waits for a few moments, hoping that Hyde will lose interest and drop his guard. Then flings the package around his back with quite some force, again without looking at the target *

* The aim is a bit off, but perhaps it was meant to be. The bomb explodes on the back wall of Hyde's booth, spraying trail mix and cashew nuts across his table, and probably into his frizzy mop of hair *

* War it is! *

[andmisterhyde.livejournal.com]

As most have guessed, getting anything out of hair like Hyde's is well-nigh impossible.

Hyde gestures for a rat to come over - possibly Rizzo. He whispers something to it, and the rat returns with a capped bottle of Dr. Pepper.

Our young hero surreptitiously slides out of his booth, wandering to about halfway across the room. The entire time he's shaking the bottle.

When he gets into a good range of Indy, he lets fly the cap with a flick of his bottle opener (you think Hyde wouldn't have one on him? like at all times?) and sprays Indy's back with a sticky sweet torrent of pop.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* The Dr Pepper blends nicely in with the Scotch which Jenny poured down his back moments earlier. He straightens angrily this time and wheels around on his stool *

Hey! Oh Jesus Hyde... that's not funny!

* he calms and eyes the teen thoughtfully. He is still thankful for the escape the kid gave him two nights ago, so nods his head back and motions him over *

[andmisterhyde.livejournal.com]

Hyde's laughing and standing there with his thumbs in his belt. "Yeah it is."

He steps up to the bar, boots clopping on the hard surface of the floor, and rests on the counter with his elbows. "What's up, man? You look like shit."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Ah... what's new? Fuckin' place.

* he swills back a mouthful of Scotch and adpots a serious tone *

That shit we smoked the other night... you got more right? 'Cause it was pretty neat. Made me forget all the crap. Better than this does.

* he nods to the whisky, looking a little sheepish to be asking *

[young_tmriddle]

*Tom walks over to Indy, smiling to see him up and about.*

Hullo, Indiana. How are you feeling?

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* Indy grumbles something unintelligible into his glass. It might have been 'kin awful... what does it look like? but Tom possibly didn't heard it that way *

[young_tmriddle]

That bad, eh? I've not had much experience with Muggle gun wounds, but they certainly looked horrific. Have you had a Healer helping you?

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* he softens a little, remembering Tom's integral part in the healing *

Moraine visted the day after. Did some stuff and said I was fine. I couldn't walk for a few days. But hey look... now I can... and see where I walked to?

* he sighs *

Sorry Tom. It's been a fucking crappy few days.

[young_tmriddle]

*He takes in Indy's begraggled, drunken state.*

I can tell. I'm glad you're up and around at the very least. Anything I can do to help?

*Like a Cleansing Charm? Tom thinks, but is too polite to say.*

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* And it never occurs to Indy to ask for the help of magic, even when he is sober *

Nahh... I'll be alright. Just gotta deal with it. It just all hit me at the same time.

[young_tmriddle]

What did happen, by the way? I was under the impression that historians and archaeologists lead a much more sedate life, with no ambushes by people with guns.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

* he snorts *
Not in my business Tom. Then again...I'm not your typical archaeologist. I sorta bend the rules a bit sometimes... independent ventures and such like.

* he gulps down some whisky *

Anyway.... that's not what I'm drownin' myself for good sir. A bunch of other shit happened the coupla nights ago. Here in the bar.