your humble Narrator (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
improvesmorale) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2012-06-12 09:09 pm
improvesmorale) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-06-12 09:09 pm
Entry tags:
but it doesn't matter, 'cause I'm packing plastic
WHO: The Narrator and Jim Moriarty
WHERE: A bar.
WHEN: Tuesday evening.
WARNINGS: --
SUMMARY: An unlikely encounter, unlikely results.
FORMAT: Quicklog.
[He spends all day following the man who wears his face, from street to street, scrapyard to scrapyard. Stalking had never really been his style because, until thirteen months ago, he was Mr. Cautious, he was Mr. Stay Quiet and Mr. Avoid Eye Contact, and there was never any need to connect so completely and invasively with another human being.
But here he is.
Shake the collage. Your face flies off and snaps onto someone else's.
You wanted to change your life, something within him buzzes. You could not do this alone.
Shake the etch-e-sketch. Do over.
At the end of the day, he slides into a bar and orders a gin and tonic, his back crouched over the counter like some great arch.
He inhales and tastes smoke.]
WHERE: A bar.
WHEN: Tuesday evening.
WARNINGS: --
SUMMARY: An unlikely encounter, unlikely results.
FORMAT: Quicklog.
[He spends all day following the man who wears his face, from street to street, scrapyard to scrapyard. Stalking had never really been his style because, until thirteen months ago, he was Mr. Cautious, he was Mr. Stay Quiet and Mr. Avoid Eye Contact, and there was never any need to connect so completely and invasively with another human being.
But here he is.
Shake the collage. Your face flies off and snaps onto someone else's.
You wanted to change your life, something within him buzzes. You could not do this alone.
Shake the etch-e-sketch. Do over.
At the end of the day, he slides into a bar and orders a gin and tonic, his back crouched over the counter like some great arch.
He inhales and tastes smoke.]
no subject
Did I make you impale yourself with a tiny cocktail umbrella?
[He laughs, shaking his head. That couldn't have been what the other man was referring to, but it wasn't as if Jim was actually aware of this power.]
No.
no subject
[He breathes the curse between his teeth, drawing his hands (one bleeding, bleeding, bleeding) towards his face and then lowering them again.]
I'm an import. [Firmly. With resolution.] This shouldn't be happening.
no subject
Should you have healed?
no subject
[Wincing, he runs his fingers over the bleeding wound. He notes every twinge of pain, every sting and jolt.]
That's my whole magical shtick.
no subject
Rolling up one sleeve to this elbow very neatly, he stretched his arm out for the other man to shake, taking care to not get blood on his clothes.]
Glad to be of service. I'm Jim.