- Comment with your character and preferences! - Other characters will buy yours a drink. - What kind of conversations, confessions, realizations, bonding, or relationships will alcohol shake loose?
I mean, it was a very spur-of-the-moment thing. I was doing some multiversal hopping, wanted to see what some random liquor store had in stock, and got struck by inspiration. That's all there is to it.
I could see if I could put together a kidnapping caper for you. It would be good practice. But it's not exactly my style, and I imagine it's gotten pretty stale for you.
As much as I like presents, there isn't really much of a point in giving me things to keep. I move around a lot and don't usually get a chance to pack up, since I'm either getting arrested or having to find a new place after my apartment gets destroyed. Sometimes both in one night!
Honestly, I'm kinda surprised you could find my apartment in the first place.
[He just. Takes this all in without issue. He should have assumed as much on his own, honestly.]
I have some silicone cups that I don't really use all that much. They're pretty useful -- comes in bright colors and nigh-indestructible. I never use them because they're kind of...frat-boy vibes.
[There's a bunch of clatter on the other end for a few minutes--]
Well, I've been working on my intelligence-gathering skills lately. I figured trying to pinpoint your place would be a good exercise.
[The clatter comes to an immediate stop when he realizes how that might sound.]
...I was trying to skip over "clingy" and go straight to "stalker", you see.
[He chuckles.]
I just have a notebook of random ideas that I come up with and I see how far I can get with them.
I don't know if there's a non-clingy way to stalk.
[ Harley is probably a lot easier to track down than she thinks, honestly. It's not like she's ever been subtle or put much effort into keeping off any radars or even used an alias. She doesn't have the media saturation of the world's most beloved propaganda puppet, but she's a very public figure in her neck of the multiverse. ]
Do you really have a notebook? What else is in it?
[As far as he's concerned? Well, he's got the perfect combination of determination, passion, and a complete lack of fear of being bad at something in the process of getting good at it. What really makes him deadly is that all the fucking free time he has now. Watch out Eden, you've released a nightmare upon the world.]
Let me go get it.
[Rustle, rustle, rustle--]
Let's see...right under "locate Harley's apartment," we have "find and obtain any universe's fabergé egg", "research how to and establish a pirate radio station at home", "find that movie director that owes me a favor and shake him down"...
The director one ended with quite the twist. Wanna hear about it?
[Top of this particular sheet? Yes. Top of the whole list? No. It's one of those pocket-fit notebooks, he can only fit so much on one page.]
Turns out he's in jail as we speak.
You know the deal with how state-controlled the media is where I'm from, right? Turns out he's been making black market government-critical documentaries under various aliases for the last...five, maybe seven years? The investigation is ongoing. I even managed to collect all the evidence they have so far. Not that it really matters; the state body is judge, jury, and executioner -- so unless he manages to flee the country, he's boned.
Needless to say, I consider his debt to me repaid.
Okay! The building will probably still be standing in a few hours, but I can't make any promises.
[ He's seen enough of the place that it should be no surprise that it's about to be condemned at any moment. But the rent is cheap and the utilities work most of the time, so she's sticking it out as long as she can. ]
Just make sure you make it out in one piece if it does.
[One has to wonder how he assumed she'd end up finding it before anyone else decided to lift it in a place like that, but maybe that's just a risk he was willing to take.
He ends the call and it actually ends up taking closer to an hour and a half for him to show up at her doorstep, dressed in a leather jacket with thick fur accents with the hood pulled up over his head and a pair of dark jeans. His incognito mode is a little more fashionable now. The only weird part about his getup is that he's wearing sunglasses and it's nighttime.
Ramon knocks politely.]
Hey--sorry I'm late, the multidimensional traffic was awful.
[ Harley opens the door and stoops to kiss him on the cheek, then immediately asks herself why the fuck she did that. ]
Hey, you.
[ She steps aside to let him in. The unit is a studio, small and old enough that the bathtub is hooked up to the kitchen pipes, with heinously tacky wallpaper peeling off in strips. The walls are decorated with wanted posters of her friends and pinned newspaper articles of their various crimes.
Not a single one of her furnishings matches the rest and all of it is heavily used. Most of it was carried off the street. The sofa is covered in blankets and mismatched throw pillows, and nearly every surface has at least one nonsense tchotchke. She's got a soft spot for misprints and defective manufacturing. Someone has to love those sad little fuckups. ]
I borrowed one of those dripper fountains from a pretentious friend. He didn't stick around though. Says this neighborhood gives him hives.
[Oh! Well -- that's not the greeting people usually give him. He's most certainly not complaining, except for the fact that she makes it hard to return the gesture.
He takes a quick scan of the place. It's about as rough as it is in the halls, but at least she's bothered to put a personal spin on the place. He idly looks over the wanted posters and articles briefly, without flinching. He almost expected it.
Ramon wonders what kind of friend she'd keep that she'd call pretentious. You would think that an (ex?-) celebrity like him would share the same sentiments as her so-called pretentious friend...but no.]
Spoken like someone who hasn't had to live paycheck to paycheck before.
[In fact, he's gonna make himself right at home. He shrugs the sling bag off by passing the strap through the space where his neck should be, and drops it to the floor. He tucks his glasses into a coat pocket then pulls it off to hang it off the back of the sofa, revealing that he's got his hair in a bun and a lilac screen printed tee old enough that whatever graphic was on there is too faded and distressed to be legible anymore. Now he kind of fits the look of this place.
He bends down to go through his bag and pull out two of those silicone cups he mentioned earlier, and tosses them in her direction.]
I ended up bringing them anyway. If they get lost in the shuffle, meh -- c'est la vie.
[ Most of her professional villain friends could be called pretentious. You don't build an entire themed crime empire without being at least a little bit high on your own farts.
She catches the cups and they squish unpleasantly in her hands. She frowns. ]
Oh these are bad.
[ But she uses them anyway, carefully setting up the drip over the sugar cubes balanced on the spoons, just like she'd been told. And then ... the waiting.
She hates waiting. Harley slumps against the counter and looks him over. Who knew he had a setting other than "suit"? ]
[See, now, that part strikes him as odd. She doesn't seem like that much of a sentimental person -- at least, not for the implied amount of effort she'd have to have to keep these kinds of things around for so long while living as a fugitive on the run.]
Toldja.
[Yeah, maybe he shouldn't have gotten her something that requires patience. But practicality wasn't really his angle at the time.
He briefly considers flopping onto the sofa -- it's right there -- but decides to join her by the counter instead. In direct opposition of all the manners he's supposed to have, he hops up to take a seat on the counter with minimal effort, which is impressive considering he basically gains enough air to equal his own height in order to pull it off.]
Yeah? [He grins and pinches a bit of fabric over his chest and tugs on it.] You like the dressed-down look?
[Is this supposed to be punitive? He just leans into the touch, like usual. He didn't mean it to be that smart, it is kind of nice that his attempts to be something other than a marketable face is being acknowledged.]
I've always been an artist! Performance is art, even when you're doing it for a bunch of tyrannical and specist fuck-wits.
["A job's a job" is what he would say, if it wouldn't make him sound completely disconnected from the severity of how much he was innervated with Eden's success.]
But yeah, I'm getting into more...self-expression. I've got a couple of polaroids of finished pieces, if you wanna see 'em.
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no subject
I mean, it was a very spur-of-the-moment thing. I was doing some multiversal hopping, wanted to see what some random liquor store had in stock, and got struck by inspiration. That's all there is to it.
I could see if I could put together a kidnapping caper for you. It would be good practice. But it's not exactly my style, and I imagine it's gotten pretty stale for you.
no subject
[ He can hear the smile in her voice. ]
... So it really is a just because thing? No secret motives?
[ So weird. ]
Yeah, come over. If you want.
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That being said, it's gonna take me another hour or so to get back there. You want me to bring anything?
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If you want to drink out of something nicer than a coffee cup, you'll have to bring your own glass.
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Hm.
Something you'd like to keep?
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Honestly, I'm kinda surprised you could find my apartment in the first place.
no subject
[He just. Takes this all in without issue. He should have assumed as much on his own, honestly.]
I have some silicone cups that I don't really use all that much. They're pretty useful -- comes in bright colors and nigh-indestructible. I never use them because they're kind of...frat-boy vibes.
[There's a bunch of clatter on the other end for a few minutes--]
Well, I've been working on my intelligence-gathering skills lately. I figured trying to pinpoint your place would be a good exercise.
[The clatter comes to an immediate stop when he realizes how that might sound.]
...I was trying to skip over "clingy" and go straight to "stalker", you see.
[He chuckles.]
I just have a notebook of random ideas that I come up with and I see how far I can get with them.
no subject
[ Harley is probably a lot easier to track down than she thinks, honestly. It's not like she's ever been subtle or put much effort into keeping off any radars or even used an alias. She doesn't have the media saturation of the world's most beloved propaganda puppet, but she's a very public figure in her neck of the multiverse. ]
Do you really have a notebook? What else is in it?
no subject
[As far as he's concerned? Well, he's got the perfect combination of determination, passion, and a complete lack of fear of being bad at something in the process of getting good at it. What really makes him deadly is that all the fucking free time he has now. Watch out Eden, you've released a nightmare upon the world.]
Let me go get it.
[Rustle, rustle, rustle--]
Let's see...right under "locate Harley's apartment," we have "find and obtain any universe's fabergé egg", "research how to and establish a pirate radio station at home", "find that movie director that owes me a favor and shake him down"...
The director one ended with quite the twist. Wanna hear about it?
no subject
She doesn't know what answer she'd want to hear, so she doesn't ask. ]
Of course I wanna hear about it. I love a good story.
no subject
Turns out he's in jail as we speak.
You know the deal with how state-controlled the media is where I'm from, right? Turns out he's been making black market government-critical documentaries under various aliases for the last...five, maybe seven years? The investigation is ongoing. I even managed to collect all the evidence they have so far. Not that it really matters; the state body is judge, jury, and executioner -- so unless he manages to flee the country, he's boned.
Needless to say, I consider his debt to me repaid.
no subject
You gonna spring him? Kinda sounds like you got some shared interests now.
no subject
That's...not a bad idea.
[Hmm...]
Time to put those jailbreaking lessons to work, huh?
no subject
Good luck, babe.
no subject
[Rustle--]
I'm gonna finish up here, then pack up some stuff and head on over, okay?
no subject
[ He's seen enough of the place that it should be no surprise that it's about to be condemned at any moment. But the rent is cheap and the utilities work most of the time, so she's sticking it out as long as she can. ]
no subject
[One has to wonder how he assumed she'd end up finding it before anyone else decided to lift it in a place like that, but maybe that's just a risk he was willing to take.
He ends the call and it actually ends up taking closer to an hour and a half for him to show up at her doorstep, dressed in a leather jacket with thick fur accents with the hood pulled up over his head and a pair of dark jeans. His incognito mode is a little more fashionable now. The only weird part about his getup is that he's wearing sunglasses and it's nighttime.
Ramon knocks politely.]
Hey--sorry I'm late, the multidimensional traffic was awful.
no subject
Hey, you.
[ She steps aside to let him in. The unit is a studio, small and old enough that the bathtub is hooked up to the kitchen pipes, with heinously tacky wallpaper peeling off in strips. The walls are decorated with wanted posters of her friends and pinned newspaper articles of their various crimes.
Not a single one of her furnishings matches the rest and all of it is heavily used. Most of it was carried off the street. The sofa is covered in blankets and mismatched throw pillows, and nearly every surface has at least one nonsense tchotchke. She's got a soft spot for misprints and defective manufacturing. Someone has to love those sad little fuckups. ]
I borrowed one of those dripper fountains from a pretentious friend. He didn't stick around though. Says this neighborhood gives him hives.
no subject
He takes a quick scan of the place. It's about as rough as it is in the halls, but at least she's bothered to put a personal spin on the place. He idly looks over the wanted posters and articles briefly, without flinching. He almost expected it.
Ramon wonders what kind of friend she'd keep that she'd call pretentious. You would think that an (ex?-) celebrity like him would share the same sentiments as her so-called pretentious friend...but no.]
Spoken like someone who hasn't had to live paycheck to paycheck before.
[In fact, he's gonna make himself right at home. He shrugs the sling bag off by passing the strap through the space where his neck should be, and drops it to the floor. He tucks his glasses into a coat pocket then pulls it off to hang it off the back of the sofa, revealing that he's got his hair in a bun and a lilac screen printed tee old enough that whatever graphic was on there is too faded and distressed to be legible anymore. Now he kind of fits the look of this place.
He bends down to go through his bag and pull out two of those silicone cups he mentioned earlier, and tosses them in her direction.]
I ended up bringing them anyway. If they get lost in the shuffle, meh -- c'est la vie.
no subject
Ohh, no, he's not that bad! Just-- particular.
[ Most of her professional villain friends could be called pretentious. You don't build an entire themed crime empire without being at least a little bit high on your own farts.
She catches the cups and they squish unpleasantly in her hands. She frowns. ]
Oh these are bad.
[ But she uses them anyway, carefully setting up the drip over the sugar cubes balanced on the spoons, just like she'd been told. And then ... the waiting.
She hates waiting. Harley slumps against the counter and looks him over. Who knew he had a setting other than "suit"? ]
You look cute.
no subject
Toldja.
[Yeah, maybe he shouldn't have gotten her something that requires patience. But practicality wasn't really his angle at the time.
He briefly considers flopping onto the sofa -- it's right there -- but decides to join her by the counter instead. In direct opposition of all the manners he's supposed to have, he hops up to take a seat on the counter with minimal effort, which is impressive considering he basically gains enough air to equal his own height in order to pull it off.]
Yeah? [He grins and pinches a bit of fabric over his chest and tugs on it.] You like the dressed-down look?
no subject
You don't look like a corporate shill.
[ She reaches over to see if the shirt is as soft as it looks. ]
no subject
Damn. You really know how to turn a guy on.
[Touch away! It's a little threadbare but only at the edges of the collar. Other than that, though, it's a solidly made piece of pure cotton.
When she gets a little closer:]
I don't smell like spray paint, do I?
[Depending on the sensitivity of her olfactory senses: barely.]
I can't tell if it's just stuck in my nose or not.
no subject
Not really. I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said anything.
[ She props her chin in her hand. ]
So you're an artist now!
no subject
I've always been an artist! Performance is art, even when you're doing it for a bunch of tyrannical and specist fuck-wits.
["A job's a job" is what he would say, if it wouldn't make him sound completely disconnected from the severity of how much he was innervated with Eden's success.]
But yeah, I'm getting into more...self-expression. I've got a couple of polaroids of finished pieces, if you wanna see 'em.
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