(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim had a lovely day yesterday, and is in a great mood. So great he's in danger of getting annoyingly manic, which is why he's brought himself downstairs. Better to annoy random others than Sherlock. Unfortunately, that also means that he's at a loss for things to entertain him - he tries a walk, but is bored within ten minutes. The music in his headphones isn't enough, making Bar flick through a few hundred TV channels gets old very soon, and he only manages twenty minutes on the piano before shutting the lid and tapping his fingers over it restlessly.

And then he spots the dog. And smiles.

Ten minutes later he can be found crouched on a sofa by the fire, with Buster's Bonehead's baseball bat in one hand, and a dog biscuit in the other. This thing is going to learn to sit, one way or the other. Every time he manages it on command (mostly by accident), he gets half a biscuit. Every time he doesn't...well, even a half-chewed bat does the job it was intended for. 


[OOC: catch him anywhere in his wandering around the bar, or with the dog. Open until next week! Link warnings for tattooing, jealousy that does not come from Jim, disgusting amounts of devotion and happiness, and inevitable NSFW behaviour.]

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[cook_the_rude]

"Whatever are you doing with a dog?"

That's Hannibal, walking up to Jim with coffee in hand. "I take it you're Jim again?"

[just_cant_lose]

'When have I not been Jim?'

Apart from when he first came here, when he was 'Jim' but not Jim. He doesn't look at Hannibal though, because he's focused on Bonehead, bouncing on his heels and with the bat raised in one hand. The mutt is currently circling its own tail, and thinking about lunging for the biscuit in Jim's hand.

'And it's not my dog.'

Yet.

[cook_the_rude]

"You were some Welshman, thanks to the Identity and Memory Dysphoric Bronchial flu," Hannibal says. "It was cute."

Pause.

"I never thought it was your dog. That would be too odd."

[just_cant_lose]

He glances at him now, fully confused.

'I've no idea what you're talking about, Hannibal. I've been upstairs with Sherlock for a couple of weeks.'

And hasn't it been glorious.

'Do I not seem like a dog person?'

[cook_the_rude]

"No, you do not," Hannibal says. "And you really don't remember being that sweet gay earnest good-hearted Welsh bookshop owner? I remember my own identity confusion quite clearly."

[just_cant_lose]

'I'm offended.'

He is so not a dog person. Or a cat person. Or any kind of pet person. Can you imagine the hair on his suits? Unacceptable.

Also, he remembers the flu perfectly, but admitting that is no fun whatsoever.

'And no, I told you. I've been upstairs for ages. I was ill for a while, but not with flu.'

[cook_the_rude]

"If that is the case," Hannibal says, "it's really very embarrassing."

[cottoncandypink]

Oh. Oh, hell to the fuck no.

It was fun messing with Jim, but this is behaviour that Wilford cannot tolerate. Don't mess with his stuff. It's a very simple demand.

Wilford stomps over as soon as he sees Jim with his dog, and snatches the bat away with considerably less force than he'd have liked to put behind it. (Goddamn everything.)

"Excuse the fuck out of you too, pal."

As always, his mohawk and his corporate monkey costume are completely at odds with one another, and do nothing to reinforce the glare he shoots at Jim.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's eyebrows jerk gently upwards in clear amusement, and his hand remains in the air as if still holding the thing.

'Hello, baby Wilford.'

[cottoncandypink]

"Oh, fuck off."

He drops himself into a chair. For a moment, he considers tossing the bat, but he's not in the mood for the amount of noise that would follow. So he gives it to Buster instead, who is Very Happy to have it back.

[just_cant_lose]

'Charming,' he murmurs, and lets us hand fall.

'What's your problem?'

He has no idea.

[cottoncandypink]

"Don't fuck with my shit."

It should be obvious.

"You both reek of dog food. How much did you feed him?"

He's clearly done playing his weird game with Jim. Jim caught on too quickly anyway.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's smile really couldn't be any more amused.

'Why don't you feed him dinner, and find out?'

He jumps down to sit properly, then immediately fidgets around in his seat. He is too restless today, too full of energy.

'Anyway, I thought you hated him.'

Or not.

[have_no_mercy]

"I don't care what it is, you're not bringing it home to the children."

Tess is eyeing both of them.

[just_cant_lose]

Oh, look. It's his wife.

Nevertheless, Jim adopts an expression of mild surprise, one hand holding a dog biscuit and the other extended in mid-air holding a half-chewed baseball bat.

'Something you've been keeping from me, darling?'

[have_no_mercy]

His loving and cherished wife.

"Really? We're going to open that book?"

[just_cant_lose]

'It seems we've been opening a lot of books one of us hasn't informed the other on.'

He tosses the biscuit at the dog, then the bat. It bounces off its shoulder, but neither Jim nor the dog seem to care.

'Except no, I clearly don't know what you're talking about.'

Look at his face, Tess. So ignorant.

[have_no_mercy]

And she, the picture of innocence.

"Peter and Sophie miss you and send their love."

[just_cant_lose]

'Tell them it's their mother's fault for being so liberal. I'm off fucking my boyfriend. If she put her foot down, maybe I'd make it home for dinner occasionally.'

Yeah, he may be going to pretend he never got the flu with everyone else, but he can't with Tess because as it turns out, they need to have a conversation about it.

Not that they weren't going to anyway, but the other one would have been more fun. He still looks a touch amused, but his eyes are serious.

'Peter and Sophie, really? As if I'd name my children anything so boring.'

[mjolnir_retriever]

...So. There is, for obvious reasons, no rule against holding a weapon in-bar. (Thinks Thor, with a giant magic warhammer in one hand.) There's no rule against brandishing it.

But there are rules against violence.

And while Thor is perfectly willing to turn a blind eye to a single punch between adults, if it's followed by either simmering down or taking the quarrel outside, a single hit of a baseball bat is something entirely different -- especially if, as Thor thinks, this dog is probably a simple animal, rather than a thinking patron.

So he drinks his mead, and he pays attention. And if the half-chewed bat ever swings down -- well, unless Jim has very fast reflexes (which he might! The mun isn't sure) it's getting knocked out of his hand with a flung Mjölnir.

(Whether or not Jim does jerk the bat up out of the way in time, Mjölnir is getting summoned back to Thor's hand right afterward. This is not a place for it to fly on and smash into the wall, even if Thor's very carefully making sure it veers around any bystanders.)

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's reflexes are not bad! But not fast enough to stop the bat getting knocked out of his hand by a flung Mjolnir, no. He blinks as the bat goes flying, and large splinters of dog-spit-soaked wood shoot through the air. Bonehead yelps in surprise, leaps about four feet straight upwards...and then tries to catch his bat, but thinks maybe he wants the hammer really, and does a weird springy twist in the air, catches neither, and lands on his ear.

Jim sighs at him.

'I've never seen anything so stupid in my life,' he tells it, though whether he's talking about the dog's personality, or someone throwing a hammer around inside, is unclear.

And then he looks around for the perpetrator because hello, rude.

[mjolnir_retriever]

The perpetrator is presumably the very large guy whose hand the big hammer has just slapped back into! Who is now ambling over, without haste, but with a certain disapproval on his face.

It's the kind of face that gets words like honest and lordly and so forth attached to it. There's really just a lot of shininess going on all around, and also a lot of biceps.

And, oh, hey, a Security star on his shoulder.

When he's near enough, he says, "I think you're aware of the rule against violence here."

He doesn't know who Jim is; he'd know the name, certainly, but he doesn't have a face attached to it. But he's definitely seen him around Milliways for more than long enough to have no doubt that he's heard the rules.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim has seen Thor around too. Mostly on surveillance screens, but whatever. Details. It's nothing like seeing him in the flesh, and so there's an eyebrow going up and a certain amount of checking him over. With no subtlety whatsoever.

'Oh? That's a strange assumption.'

Or not, because yeah, Security, and Jim's been around a while blah blah.

'I think I'd remember if we'd spoken before, my dear.'

[mjolnir_retriever]

Thor is not in the least flustered by being checked out. He's not interested, and he's not likely to recreationally flirt in this situation, but: why yes, he is both hot and awesome. (And used to being in the public eye.)

Anyway, he agrees that Jim probably would remember, yes. Thor Odinson is also memorable!

"Whether or not this dog is a mere animal, it's no less protected under this roof."

[just_cant_lose]

'Have you thought about getting a haircut? Surfer chic is so nineties.'

The dog in question appears to believe Thor might be a person who likes dogs, and is wagging his tail at him. He's missing his front teeth (not Jim's doing), and he's a mangy, too-thin thing, whose tongue lolls out at random. But he's very springy! He has that going for him.

'Also, you just ruined your own point by calling him 'it'.'

This last pointed out in a friendly, but dismissive manner. Jim does not believe the no-violence thing in the case of humans, let alone animals.