(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim has been out of sorts since Halloween. Sherlock made things a bit better, of course, but the underlying sensation remains the same and he doesn't like it. This is probably why, as soon as the door opens from Los Santos, his sunny smile drops off his face and he allows himself to stop acting. He doesn't want Sherlock to see it's still bothering him, so maybe an hour or two in here is a good idea.

He's dressed for some kind of work, in torn old jeans and a cheap hoodie. Ideal for moping, really. He leaves two notes at the bar while retrieving a coffee, because he might as well do something useful while he's here.

Yrael

Can I borrow your world for a year? Promise I won't break it.

JM xxx

and then,

Sherlock and I are having a stag party in a month. You have to come or I'll die of disappointment.

JM xxx

He doesn't bother putting a name on the second, because X reads all his mail anyway. That done, he slopes off to a sofa by the Window, pulling his hood up over his head and curling up in the corner to watch the destruction. He does vaguely wonder why there are so many kids about, but very quickly decides he doesn't care.


[OOC: only the second link is new, and carries no warnings. Open until the weekend.]

Comments

[mogget_cat]

The current bar-weirdness has meant that whole tenor of the bar room noise has changed - to start with, it's not deep enough to be tenor. Yrael has literally never been allowed near so many children at once in his existence.

"The version of Earth to which my door to New Orleans opens, I'm assuming," he remarks, bringing the note along with him to one of the tall-backed chairs next to the fireplace couch. He is human-shaped today, wearing his usual white, and bringing along a cup of black coffee. He assumes Earth because he figures it wouldn't take anywhere near as long as a year for Jim to get bored of the Old Kingdom.

Also, there's no wifi.

[just_cant_lose]

No wifi is a dealbreaker, full stop.

'Mm,' he says, from the depths of his hoodie.

'Please. Sherlock and I want to go sailing for our honeymoon, but we can't do it on our world, me being dead and all. Hello, Yrael.'

[mogget_cat]

"Then you shall have a door to New Orleans. All I ask is what you have already promised," Yrael replies, taking a sip of his coffee. He'll probably keep a closer eye on the media headlines for the year, just out of curiosity (and a little hope), but the details beyond providing the door will be Jim and Sherlock's business. "Hello, Jim."

"Plans for the wedding go well?" he asks, because Jim looks troubled enough to remark on.

[just_cant_lose]

'The-? Oh, yes. There aren't any plans to worry about really, beyond the honeymoon. We'll need to come through for a day or two first, if you don't mind. We have to get a yacht and hire a crew.'

Which will be tedious, but he won't settle for anything less than perfection. So no, that is not the reason he looks like this.

'Provided I don't murder him before Christmas, everything will be fine.'

There's a ghost of a smile, so he must be kidding, right?

[mogget_cat]

"That will be fine," Yrael nods.

Because he is curious, and because being amenable doesn't mean not being an ass, he remarks, "I would not be speaking from experience, but I imagine having a living or at least responsive spouse is generally one of the foundations of a fulfilling and successful honeymoon."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim shoots him a Look, but it's not pissed. Not very. Just...yeah.

'I wouldn't really.'

If, y'know, you overlook the other times death has very much been on the cards. But that was different, he was only playing.

He looks back to the Window, looking a bit withdrawn. It has not been a very good week.

'It was only a dream, anyway,' he mutters, not really sounding like he believes it.

[wayward_sun]

New person by the bar is new.
And very sharply dressed.

And British. Or sounding that way anyway.

"Yes, just like that. And the bottle. Thank you."

Referring to a tumbler and a bottle of whiskey.

"Oh and some nuts. Dry roasted. No need to get my fingers sticky just yet."

[just_cant_lose]

That's a very British accent, indeed. It sounds attractive. Jim does not move from his sullen curl on the sofa, but he does nudge the edge of his hoodie higher so he can give a proper assessment.

Verdict: hot.

[wayward_sun]

He throws a few nuts in the air and catches them with his mouth as he turns to lean on the Bar.

The stubble is on point.

And he is smiling.

"Hello."

It's a bright, cheerful smile.

[just_cant_lose]

Everything about him is on point, really. Jim approves of his suit, and he never approves of anyone's suit.

Still, he does not smile. Eye candy doesn't warrant that.

'Hello.'

[wayward_sun]

He takes a sip of whiskey.

"I'm new," he offers. "Got any invaluable insights to share?"

Because he reckons that this guy is not. New that is.

[just_cant_lose]

'Many.'

His eyes travel down the stranger and back up again - all without him moving an inch - then they roll to look back out the Window.

'Whether I will or not is something else. What's your name?'

[cutting_edgex23]

Eventually a note for Jim turns up.

You are very annoying when you are dead.

Okay.

-- X

[just_cant_lose]

Eventually, there's a reply back.

You have made my life, sweetie. It's on my new home world. There will be people being stupid, and you have to bring me and Sherlock a nice wedding present.

(These are not actually compulsory at stag parties.)

And I'm annoying all the time, how dare you. Speak soon, darling.

JM xxx

[cutting_edgex23]

If you see me.

-- X

[cottoncandypink]

Whether or not Jim cares about the kids is irrelevant, because one of them has recognised him as an adult who doesn't give a fuck. A scrawny little boy with long, messy hair practically runs up to the table and throws a $10 bill at Jim.

"Get me a pack of cigarettes," he says with nothing at all remarkable about the way he speaks. In fact, he sounds like anyone else who's never had their jaw severely broken.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim does not move so much as a millimetre. He continues to stare out of the Window.

'Where are your manners?' he drawls eventually, because ugh, children.

[cottoncandypink]

"Weasels don't get manners. Get me some cigarettes."

Wilford is about to shake right out of his own skin. He's trying not to, but that just seems to make everything worse. This tiny body is about to fall apart from the combination of medication withdrawal, and the worst nic-fit he's had in years.

[just_cant_lose]

That makes him roll his eyes towards the lad, because there's only one person here who's called him that. And surprise - or not surprise - there's Wilford.

'I like you better when you speak like this,' he says, calmly. 'But not enough to get ordered around by a brat. Ask properly.'

[cottoncandypink]

"I'm gonna fucking kick your ass."

As if. A strong gust of wind would knock him over. Or even a slight one, since he feels like he's about to fall over anyway.

[cutting_edgex23]

A tiny girl -- maybe ten -- dressed all in black, drops down from the rafters and settles on the other side of the sofa from Jim.

She is incredibly stone-faced.

Eventually she will blink.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim blinks. He doesn't uncurl from his position though; he just watches her silently from underneath his hoodie, taking her in at his leisure.

Eventually;

'You're not coming to my stag party looking like that.'

[cutting_edgex23]

X shrugs, one-shouldered and quick.

Her face is even more expressionless than usual.

"It is inevitable. If I do not change back."

[just_cant_lose]

And he didn't think her face could get more expressionless. Like, for real, how haven't her muscles just locked in place from years of not moving?

'I assume this is just Bar doing her thing, again?'

[cutting_edgex23]

Well, they did. But her adult body is 27, and she's been working on having expressions for ten years.

This body really hasn't.

"I think it was a magic practitioner being stupid."

Sigh.