milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

There is a fireball, dancing around the bar. It continuously flashes red and green, dancing merrily, carefully setting nothing on fire.

One Opener is directing this fire ball witha finger, concentrating quite a lot on keeping it under control. It's not an illusion this time, and he's making sure he can keep control.

Have at!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Control, illusion, actively burning things or not, Montparnasse is in no mood for a repeat of the pill scenario, and so he is eyeing the fireball warily.

Until he determines who is responsible, at least. At which point the the expression becomes a scowl. He is not fond of fire.

Tim sniffs the air, then eyes the vampire. S'funny. He doesn't remember using magic on that guy.

"Evening."

No, but another little thief might.

"Bonjour." He replies coolly. Then to the point, "Is that" A gesture toward the fire. "really necessary?"

Tim pulls the fireball back to rest in his hand.

"Generally, no. But I seem to have misplaced my usual tools."

His eyes narrow at the reply.

"Usual tools?" He cocks his head to the side, then shakes it bemusedly. "No, forget I asked, just keep the fire away. Lace is quite flammable, you know."

And he does have quite a bit of it. At the cuffs, and cravat. Only a dandy would hide behind his lace to explain a fear of fire.

"Uh-huh."

Tim eyes the man for a moment.

"Well, I could always change it intoa ball of divine light."

He shrugs disinterestedly.

"That would be preferable,-" Then a headtilt again because it is not something he has really considered. Sunlight, he knows to avoid, but the usual holy water and crosses typically have no effect. Still... "-I think." He amends, just to be certain. "But I would appreciate not testing it just now."

"Vampire, huh?"

And Tim grins.

"Among other things."

The grin concerns him, admittedly.

"Do you ask for a reason?"

"I like to know what I'm talking to."

A shrug.

"Cup of blood?"

"What and not who?" He asks wryly.

And shakes his head. "No, thank you. I've had enough." Which is a lie, but when he needs it, he'll go home and get it fresh.

"Who comes after what. Sometimes it's more important to know someone is a god, not nessacarily that they are Beylor, God of Nasty Messes Left Behind By Homicidal Killers."

A pause.

"So, who are you?"

"I am called Montparnasse." He replies absently because, "They have a god for that?" He's intrigued now. Good going, Tim.

"Is he in the bar?" If not, he should be.

"Good to know."

Great. A Cheese Eating surrender Monkey.

"Oh, no, closest we've got to that is Destruction."

He nods and considers the answer for a moment.

"Destruction is a person?" Someone else to meet.

He's not familiar with the endless, though he has heard that Death is female, so he really should assume.

"Deaths younger brother."

Tim is helpful like this. As he thinks, he pulls a small white pellet from a pocket, tossing it from hand to hand.

"Oui, Death and Destruction. They do, so often, go hand in hand."
Hopefully not too often, however. Incest is icky.

He eyes the pellet almost as warily as he had the fireball. "What is that, monsieur?"

"Destiny, Dream, Death, Destruction, Despair, Desire and Delerium."

Tim dances the pellet across his knuckles.

'This? It's a prepackaged spell."

He just stares in response to the names?

Then narrows his eyes at the answer to his own question.

"A spell, eh? What does this one do?" All he knows is that the answer better not be fire. Again.

"Watch."

Tim crushes the pellet in his hand. Immediately, his hand is sheathed in a billowing current of white clouds. The clouds are mainly there to demonstrate the fact that the element of air has been invoked.

That's something along the lines of what he expected.

He sits back in his seat and blinks, however, because...clouds?

"Is this part of the holiday tradition around here?" He asks wryly. "Fire and water were strange enough, but what does one do with clouds?"

Tim gestures with his hand. The clouds launch themselves from his hand, striking a hanging decorations...and shattering it quite nicely.

"Air."

A pause.

"Fire and Water?"

"Yeah, like those. They were quite a shock, I must say."
And because Cypher is not here, Tim receives the obligatory glare.

"I take it you are responsible?"

"I'm not sure I know what you're referring to."

But he's afraid he doesn't want to know.

"A boy, about ten years old, had a few of these the other day, and conned my friend into using one." And myself, the other. Of course he wont admit that last part.

Tim grows interested.

"Do you know this boys name?"

"Oui, monsieur. One Jack Dawkins if I remember correctly. Little English runt."

Yeah, he knows what he's saying. It is, perhaps, why.

"Dodger?"

Tims is not pleased.

"That is what he calls himself." He says wryly.

"Not so good at it, to be honest. A little thief... You did not give them to him, did you?"

"No."

Tim stands, a scowl on his face.

'Excuse me."

And he stalks off.

He snorts and watches him walk off.

"Yeah, you're welcome."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only