(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim has been in a pensive mood since he and Sherlock had a row the other day. Which is largely why, when he came in here and saw an opportunity, he ended up letting Wilford make him feel better. 

Time's funny in this place; that happened about a half an hour ago for Jim which is why his jaw is only a little bit purple (though give it an hour, because that bruise is spreading fast). He went home but only kicked around the kitchen for ten minutes before deciding nope, and bringing his computer back in here.

But he can't focus on his big number project. He needs to do something for Sherlock because of that row. And also...well.

After a few minutes, he gets up and leaves a note with the bar.

Sinric

I believe we've met. I think we should do it again.

Jim Moriarty


That done, he returns to his computer, opens up a blank screen, and starts typing.


[OOC: Open for a week or so.]

Comments

[omgplsstop]

There's a familiar face at the bar today (tonight?). It's only been a half hour for Jim, but it's been days their side of the door. Nichola has been trying to deal with a thousand things at once, none of which she's been emotionally or physically prepared to deal with, and now she's enjoying a glass of wine and a home decor magazine.

She hasn't noticed the grape jelly in her hair yet.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim does not notice the grape jelly either, because jelly of any sort is not his problem. He does nod at Nichola when he notices her though, because it's been a while and why not?

[omgplsstop]

"You've had a day," Nichola says when she notices the bruise.

She hasn't heard anything about how he got it, and Wilford's been in such a constant foul mood lately (they all have) that she wouldn't have noticed him being pissed off about anything unusual.

[just_cant_lose]

'What? Oh - no, just your little pal.'

Jim could not care less.

'You have, though.'

[omgplsstop]

Nichola sighs. "Yeah," she agrees.

She takes a sip of her wine and flips a page in her magazine.

"Which little pal is that?"

[wayward_sun]

The Devil is in search of refreshments.
Preferably in large glasses.

It has been a day.

[just_cant_lose]

It really has been a day, hasn't it? By some standards anyway. Jim nods at the Devil, because hey man.

[wayward_sun]

Large glass. Bottle of something suitable.
Nibbles on a bowl.
Right.

Lucifer nods back and says, randomly, "I really hate traffic cameras."

[just_cant_lose]

‘...of all the things Satan could choose to get annoyed about, it’s traffic cameras?’

That’s novel information.

[wayward_sun]

"Yes, well, they're the reason I get ticketed."

Obviously.

[oldmancreed]

"Hope the other guy looks worse." Because there's no point in fighting if you aren't going to win.

[just_cant_lose]

'Not even remotely,' Jim says, with all the appearance of cheer.

He would strongly, strongly disagree, but he also would not be surprised to know Creed thinks that.

'Hello.'

[oldmancreed]

He grunts in greeting, looking Jim over.

"Why not? You know how to handle yourself?"

[just_cant_lose]

He stops typing long enough to spread his arms.

'What do you think?'

[oldmancreed]

He squints his eyes at the other man.

"You're skinny, wiry, but you could do some damage if you wanted to."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric receives the message, tensing with concern. Summoning strength through galdr, he draws a shield rune on the inside of each wrist with a pen before seeking Moriarty out.

He walks up to the man and lays the paper between them.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim’s eyes flick to the paper, and then up at Sinric. Then he smiles and sits back, the picture of ease.

‘Sinric.’

He takes a moment to just look him over. And no, no recognition at all.

‘Sherlock tells me I tried to kill you. I told him he was wrong, because look! Here you are, not dead.’

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric stands quite still under the scrutiny, dark eyes edged with a sheen of gold.

He lifts his chin to show the narrow scar below his jaw. "You were toying with me. Revealing in my helplessness. You were interrupted before the cut ran deeper."

[just_cant_lose]

He tilts his head to see it better, the corner of his mouth turning up.

'It does sound like me. But a nick underneath your jaw is not trying to kill you.'

He would have sliced straight through the artery. So that's that cleared up.

'Let's discuss more interesting matters, such as what you did to my head.'

Jim sounds perfectly calm. Friendly, even. But he is seething underneath.

[thewidewideworld]

"You threatened worse. And at the time I had no way to sense the truth of your intentions." The calm, friendly tone isn't fooling Sinric. Not even slightly. He keeps his voice even and neural, edging on cold.

"You found me in what you believe was a moment of weakness. You were wrong."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is by the bar, mixing himself a drink.

[just_cant_lose]

‘Hello, Hannibal.’

Jim only glances over the top of his screen, but he looks friendly enough.

[cook_the_rude]

"Want a drink?"

[just_cant_lose]

‘What’re you making?’

Jim has particular tastes, but Hannibal is probably very good at mixing.

[cook_the_rude]

"Grapefruit spritz," Hannibal says. "A bit like Aperol Spritz, just with added vitamins and actual fruit."