Multi-Pup Post

[diced_tartan]

Harold is working with a book he got from the Bar. He has to get through this one and learn all of the notes and how to read them on paper before he can start going through the sheet music Alba gave him.

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Teller’s found a box of crayons, and is using them to decorate one of the tables. He’s drawing various monsters and dragons on the surface, most of them eating other dragons and monsters.

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Nicholas is outside today, despite the turning weather. He’s in a relatively good mood (as far as good moods and Nicholas Angel go, anyway), and is idly wandering around the grounds, trying to avoid any overly-muddy patches.

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Tim is, in theory, working. He’s back by the fire place with his sketchbook and a by now ice cold cup of tea. In practise, he’s asleep. Feel free to wake him if his snoring gets too loud.

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Gus is over at a table with Jools. He seems to be trying to teach Jools some new card game. Moreover, he seems to be winning. Anyone watching might not be particularly surprised.

Fake Tags: Alba DeTamble, Harold Chasen, Teller

Comments

[guppy_sandhu]

"Mr Bacon!" Alex says, peeping over the table of Gus and Jools' card game.

Probably not that game.

[thanksrainman]

"Hey!" Gus jumps, startled.

Okay, well... it's better to be gatecrashed by a kid than by one of the security guys around here.

"Oh, hi!" Jools says excitedly. "Do you wanna learn how to play, too? This bloke's teaching me."

[guppy_sandhu]

"Yes." Alex says, climbing onto a chair and looking expectantly at Gus.

The challenge is on, Gus.

Guppy is nearby, watching. He never takes his eyes off the kid. But he won't intervene yet.

[thanksrainman]

Gus rolls his eyes.

"Give him some of your money, so he can bet," he tells Jools.

"Oh, right."

Jools hands Alex a few one pound coins.

[guppy_sandhu]

Alex arranges his one pound coins very neatly in a line.

Guppy, watching, frowns slightly. Is Gus conning Jools and a toddler?

He lets it pass though, so that he can see what happens. He can always credit Jools' tab later.

Alex looks at Gus for the next instruction.

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

Charlie observes the short, balding man from a rafter. He wonders if there are any rules about defacing Bar property.

[doesntsaymuch]

Hopefully not, because this isn't the first time Teller's done this.

If Charlie looks closely in the rafters, he may even find some very dirty Latin graffiti up there, courtesy the guy with the colour crayons.

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

Charlie has seen the graffiti. Too bad the nuns never taught him Latin.

He watches for a bit. Weird drawings, if not entirely without merit.

[doesntsaymuch]

Eventually, Teller picks up a bright pink crayon and writes, 'IT ISN'T NICE TO STARE' on the table.

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

"I'm not staring. I'm observing." He sticks his head out a bit more.

[scots_wolf]

"I like that," Urquhart says, from behind Teller.

[doesntsaymuch]

Teller looks up at him and smiles.

And then offers him a crayon. Care to help him deface bar property?

[scots_wolf]

Urquhart takes a red crayon, and starts drawing a huge fire-spitting dragon.

It looks very typically medieval.

[doesntsaymuch]

Fire-spitting dragons need princesses.

This princess is trying to eat the dragon.

[scots_wolf]

The dragon, though, has big claws and sharp teeth.

[pick a Pegg]

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

Obviously younger (twenty -- in thrift store jeans and taped up sneakers) is giving someone the hairy eyeball.

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

Have a Tim

[notimewarp]

Tim sits up, snorting slightly. The sudden motion causes his sketchbook to fall to the floor.

"I'll do it later!"

Wait, what?

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

She picks up the sketchpad and offers it back.

"Falling asleep in the bar puts yourself in the hands of those that'd draw things on your face."

She waves the permanent marker she's holding for emphasis.

[notimewarp]

Tim groans, but doesn't seem to care too much.

He could have a giant cock drawn on his face, and it would still be better than some of the messes he finds on himself at home these days.

"Cheers," he says, taking the sketchbook back.

He opens it back to the page he was on, which is full of different designs for sexy female soldier uniforms.

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

"No problem," she shrugs, throwing herself in another armchair.

Hanging over the arm of it to take a look at what's inside.

Her eyebrows twitch upward, and she just shrugs again, "Huh. I don't think that's culturally appropriate -- but whatever."

[visible_sariel]

Enter one curly-haired twenty-something in Starfleet reds, stage... sort of leftish.

The drawings are making her smile, just a little, either amused, bemused or both. Probably both. The person creating them is making her a little uncertain, though. Maybe that's why she's keeping a tiny bit more distance back than she normally would.

"Hello, Teller," she says eventually. She's trying her best, but there's still audible caution in her voice.

[doesntsaymuch]

He smiles up at her, warmly and inviting. Honestly, he's the less dangerous of the two.

Teller offers her a few crayons. Ya know, in case she wants to help him deface bar property.

[visible_sariel]

He is, but it's not possible danger Sariel's wary of. It's having pissed off a new friend. Not that she'd exactly put it that way, but...

But that answering smile sticks a metaphorical pin in the worst of her worry. Her own smile gets that much brighter, and for the attuned--heck, even for the clueless--a large majority of the tension and uncertainty in her face fades away. "Are we allowed to do that?"

Figures she'd ask that. There are no teeth in the question at all.

[doesntsaymuch]

He shrugs.

Probably not, but this isn't the first time he's scribbled all over various flat surfaces in the bar. The rafters are even littered with downright pornographic Latin graffiti, courtesy yours truly.

[visible_sariel]

Sariel's Latin, thankfully for her, is less than stellar. Ask River. Still, it's probably best she hasn't seen what's written in the rafters yet. Yet.

Well, he doesn't act as though he's too worried about being caught, anyway. Sariel accepts the offered crayons, a little tentatively. Should they really be doing this?

She's contemplating a clear patch of tabletop, one particular crayon in hand. It's turquoise, for the curious.