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[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim enters Milliways looking like a regular businessman today, carrying a briefcase and everything. Though...regular businessmen might not deposit a stack of bearer bonds quite that large on the bar top, nor move with such an air of repressed...something. Energy? Maybe.

He murmurs, 'that should take care of things,' as they disappear into the wood, and a vodka and lime takes their place. Jim stretches his neck to the side until it pops, and lifts the drink with a deliberate hand.

Forty-eight hours to go. The anticipation is a living thing under his skin, and he needs some distraction to stop him climbing the walls. This place has a better chance of offering that than anywhere else.


[OOC: Past 2am, so I must call slowtime. Thanks for tagging guys, see you tomorrow! <333]

Comments

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford's almost... pleased to see a familiar face around here. The Fazbear story is starting to fray his nerves, and the only other familiar face he's seen is Vyvyan's. And that isn't helping anything.

But Milliways is infinitely better than hanging around the set, putting up with a crew who need their hands held along every step of the way.

"I see you're yourself again today," Wilford says as he gets himself a scotch.

[just_cant_lose]

'As opposed to the last time I saw you, when I was also myself?'

But at least he doesn't start at the moustache this time? He's long processed that and moved on. Willard's way of speaking may take longer.

[cottoncandypink]

"So you do remember what an annoying little bitch you were," Wilford says.

Not that Wilford is one to speak. He was just as irritating at that age.

"I like this you better."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim smirks, puts his glass down and leans against the bar to survey the room. Nothing much seems to be going on.

'I'm amused by the idea you think I've changed.'

But then, Wilford's only met him once.

'Did you find out who's behind your giant killer bear?'

[starrydome]

Elrond has been cleaning out the chests in his study.

(He hasn't seen the notice regarding the rummage sale - and he likely wouldn't quite get the concept if he had, but time is a river and all rivers run to the Sea. So he is sorting through things.)

That is the reason that he is carrying a small bundle wrapped in supple leather, when he arrives.
He heads for a table and puts the bundle down.
It makes a weighty, metallic sound.

He sets about unwrapping it, pausing to order a glass of wine from a passing wait rat.

It's knives. Various shapes and sizes.
Made from mithril.

There's nothing that shimmers quite like mithril.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim doesn't care about knives these days; he has people to carry them for him. And in two days time, his younger self isn't going to have to deal with Eric again. Probably.

On the other hand, shiny things! Distraction! He has to do something, or tonight's going to be unbearable. He wanders over, drink dangling from loose fingers.

'They don't look like silver.'

[starrydome]

Elrond looks up at him, with clear, storm grey eyes.

"They're not," he says. "They're made from mithril. It's stronger and lighter."

The knives all have elegant lines. A few have inscriptions (long hand Tengwar), and one has small, beautifully cut stones set in the hilt. They look a little like diamonds.

"And they are more receptive to enchantments."

[just_cant_lose]

They are definitely beautiful, he'll give them that.

'Magic knives?'

He features to a seat with a languid hand.

'May I?'

[have_no_mercy]

Tess is sitting in a booth typing on her laptop. It's nothing important, personal notes more than anything else.

There are papers strewn about the table, leaving just enough room for a glass of scotch.

[just_cant_lose]

Well. There's a distraction. Jim grins for the first time today, sips from his drink as he wanders over, and leans an elbow on the edge of the booth. His expression as he looks her over is...amused. Smug. And knowingly brattish.

'Hello, lover.'

(The sultry tone is entirely for laughs, obviously.)

[have_no_mercy]

She glances over at him and returns the smile.

"Well, if it isn't Ben Braddock."

[just_cant_lose]

'Mrs Robinson.'

He helps himself to a seat. He figures she won't mind.

'I am shocked at you, Tess. And extremely offended.'

He looks it.

Not.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is coming from the kitchen after a while, wearing an apron and smelling of olive oil and garlic.

"Good evening," he says to Jim.

[just_cant_lose]

'Hannibal.'

Jim does not smell of olive oil and garlic. He smells like expensive cologne, and barely repressed energy.

'What're you cooking?'

[cook_the_rude]

"Paella," Hannibal says. "I have been experimenting with variations lately."

[just_cant_lose]

'You have a real thing for fish, don't you?'

Are there variations of paella? It's never occurred to him to notice.

[vyvyan]

There is... a rather bad smell nearby.

Its owner is sticking a pink moustache onto an Action Man doll.

[just_cant_lose]

...oh God, what is that? What is that?

Jim looks around with an expression of distaste, and then...tilts his head at what he sees. There's only one pink moustache around here, that he knows of.

But nothing's going to induce him to go near that smell. He'll just watch from here.

[vyvyan]

After a while, Vyvyan ties the doll to the dartboard, and starts throwing darts at it.

The bull's eye is in the doll's, er, smoothed male area...

[angry_friendship_wolf]

Yamato watches Jim for a moment, before eventually approaching, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"You seem tense."

Or -- maybe tense isn't the right word, but Yamato's not sure what the right word would be.

"Or something."

[just_cant_lose]

What an observant young man. Jim smiles thinly, and stretches his neck out again.

'I hope you're not offering a massage, my dear.'

He is definitely something.

[angry_friendship_wolf]

"Don't worry, I'm not," Yamato says, tilting his head to one side a little. "How's the whole crown-jewels-stealing-thing been turning out for you? Obviously you're not behind bars, so that's something, I guess."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee is sitting at one end of the bar when Jim comes in.

But as soon as Emcee notices him, he downs the rest of his red wine, and slips a fat envelope-- all fat envelopes look the same everywhere you go-- into his coat pocket.

He then gets up to finish his cigarette outside, but first he must pass by Jim.

[just_cant_lose]

And Jim wants a distraction tonight, any distraction, and he thinks Emcee must be good at those.

'Emcee. Haven't seen you about in a while.'

He drawls it, knowing full well the other man doesn't want to talk to him. Which is only the more reason to do it, of course.

[i_am_your_host]

No, Emcee is bad at distractions, terrible, terrible, awful, so very bad at it.

At Jim's greeting, he stops.

"Guten Abend, mein Herr," he replies, with an overly polite dip of his head and the tiniest of polite smiles.

"I have been busy, as I am sure that you have been, too."