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[neapolitan_man]

Tony Napolitano is too cool for the room.

Fortified by a pint of his special Purple Haze ice cream, dressed in his teddy-boy finest (complete with dark sunglasses), and with a cigarette held in his mouth, he is slouched nearly horizontally on the couch by the fire, playing his beloved 1961 Höfner 500/1 electric bass (covered in a pin-up style painting of a certain redhead, holding a tommy-gun and surrounded by the words THIS MACHINE KILLS HEROES).

He's playing one of his favorite songs, apparently an extended version of it, only singing intermittently. He's actually got talent... which is a comfort of sorts, since it doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon.

Botherable. He can talk while playing... then again, he can also turn it up.

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Comments

[useslatin.livejournal.com]

There's a doctor sitting nearby, longing for his guitar right about now. He knows the music, of course, and is enjoying it.

The player's pretty intriguing himself. He is openly staring. "Don't tell me, some very ironic use of irradiated ice cream?"

[spandexed-edie.livejournal.com]

The machine that kills heroes may take up residence at the end of the couch, wearing leather that looks to be next to painted on.

"Hello, baby."