(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
A young Jim Moriarty enters the bar looking thoughtful today. He's dressed like a student, carrying a bookbag and with (fake) glasses on his nose. He takes a coffee from Bar and goes to sit by the Observation Window, but he doesn't look out of it. He empties the bag of its contents, and sits there looking at that instead.

It's money. A thick stack of fifty pound notes, easily making the tens of thousands. Jim...doesn't look happy about it, or dismissive, or much of anything really. Faintly quizzical, perhaps. After a while he draws his knees up to his chest and puts his chin on them, still watching the pile like it might stand up and do something interesting. 

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

His eyebrow quirks upwards.

'What do I have to do to earn it? I'm not going to beg.'

Beat.

'Unless you're into that, in which case I suppose I could.'

[have_no_mercy]

"You know full well what I'm into."

Begging isn't part of it.

[just_cant_lose]

He grins, all mischief and cheek.

'I do. Is that what it'll take to earn a tour? Because I've never thought of myself as a prostitue, but I'm not against the idea.'

[have_no_mercy]

"No."

She rolls her eyes at him.

"I might just let you in because I like you."

[just_cant_lose]

He cackles in glee, then pulls a sadface.

'Shame. I look stunning in fishnets. But yes, please, do let me in because you like me.'