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paixaorpg2006-09-27 07:23 pm
averyspecialguy.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2006-09-27 07:23 pm
Entry tags:
Morning After (not THAT kind....) [Completed]
Character(s): Gaston and Jack Skellington--and Bakura and Blue!
Content: A good time has been had by all--and now, is being slept off.
Setting: Haja o Que Houver [F4]
Time: Morning
Warnings: >=O SHHH! Gaston has a hangover!
Content: A good time has been had by all--and now, is being slept off.
Setting: Haja o Que Houver [F4]
Time: Morning
Warnings: >=O SHHH! Gaston has a hangover!
Jack had to admit, that had been an enjoyable way to spend his first evening at Paixao. He'd imagined it would be informative, if quiet, and reasonably pleasant, even if he only talked to Gaston and the barkeep for the entire evening. Instead? Gaston had evidently held true to his reputation in life, by pulling a sizable part of the tavern into a party only minutes after they'd arrived. Skeleton that he was, he didn't bother ordering any drinks. Why bother, since he couldn't get drunk?
Instead, he'd played the part of a social bony butterfly, and flitted through the place to chat people up, asking questions and swapping stories, and generally just turning on the charm the way he did so well. He'd even gone and claimed the little stage they had in the corner for a while, to show off his voice and dancing, and do a few tricks to amuse people. Like juggle ribs, for example. Wasn't it handy, being able to take those out and still remain intact? He'd earned quite the tidy little sum for his impromptu show, too--some of it for his skills, but perhaps a fair share because he'd taken off his skull and held it out for people to test their aim by tossing coins through the eye sockets. Ahhh, all in good fun.... it was nice to know he didn't have to maintain his dignity with these people. Pumpkin King or no, he was just Jack, and he could let that show.
Of course, there came a time when all good things came to an end, and so it was with the party, too; that was signaled quite clearly by the fact that Gaston had gotten himself smashed to an impressive degree. He was still conscious of course, even coherent--something which Jack would have tipped his hat to if he'd had one, considering how much Gaston had drank--and likely could have walked if he had to. Still, walking straight would have likely been a problem..... Jack had decided to bypass the effort the whole drunken stagger routine would create, by slinging the musclebound man over his shoulder and walking them both to the nearest hotel. It was a nice place, bustling with life and filled with friendly people. Jack had gotten them a single bed hotel room and tucked Gaston in, before getting a pitcher of water and some sugar and limes to bring up, to help cure the inevitable hangover. And himself? He quietly spent the rest of the night dozing in a comfortable armchair so Gaston could have the whole bed.
He was up bright and early the next morning, of course, having sat down to play with his journal a bit and give himself a polish; Gaston would likely find the man with his head off once he woke up. Why not, while he was waiting? The day felt like it would be a nice one, hopefully calm enough. The map had plenty of interesting places to look around, and the brochures he'd picked up had a few good choices his friend might want to look into for a more permanent place to stay.
Instead, he'd played the part of a social bony butterfly, and flitted through the place to chat people up, asking questions and swapping stories, and generally just turning on the charm the way he did so well. He'd even gone and claimed the little stage they had in the corner for a while, to show off his voice and dancing, and do a few tricks to amuse people. Like juggle ribs, for example. Wasn't it handy, being able to take those out and still remain intact? He'd earned quite the tidy little sum for his impromptu show, too--some of it for his skills, but perhaps a fair share because he'd taken off his skull and held it out for people to test their aim by tossing coins through the eye sockets. Ahhh, all in good fun.... it was nice to know he didn't have to maintain his dignity with these people. Pumpkin King or no, he was just Jack, and he could let that show.
Of course, there came a time when all good things came to an end, and so it was with the party, too; that was signaled quite clearly by the fact that Gaston had gotten himself smashed to an impressive degree. He was still conscious of course, even coherent--something which Jack would have tipped his hat to if he'd had one, considering how much Gaston had drank--and likely could have walked if he had to. Still, walking straight would have likely been a problem..... Jack had decided to bypass the effort the whole drunken stagger routine would create, by slinging the musclebound man over his shoulder and walking them both to the nearest hotel. It was a nice place, bustling with life and filled with friendly people. Jack had gotten them a single bed hotel room and tucked Gaston in, before getting a pitcher of water and some sugar and limes to bring up, to help cure the inevitable hangover. And himself? He quietly spent the rest of the night dozing in a comfortable armchair so Gaston could have the whole bed.
He was up bright and early the next morning, of course, having sat down to play with his journal a bit and give himself a polish; Gaston would likely find the man with his head off once he woke up. Why not, while he was waiting? The day felt like it would be a nice one, hopefully calm enough. The map had plenty of interesting places to look around, and the brochures he'd picked up had a few good choices his friend might want to look into for a more permanent place to stay.
no subject
The skull returned Blue's odd look with a smile, which broadened into a grin at Bakura's laugh and pun. "No, indeed! I prefer to keep my head on my shoulders, thank you. Still though, I'm the only person I know who can lose their head and remain completely calm.... Why, thank you, Blue." He accepted the head graciously, pushing it back down onto his neck with both hands until it snapped back into place with a firm pop. "Ah, and by all means, call me Jack, if you'd like; everyone does." He clapped Bakura's shoulder, gently but with fair cheer, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm too important back home to not be known by my given name, and not important enough in Paixao for the pretension of going by my last...."
Skeleton Jack it was to all hands, then.... He preferred it that way; it felt more intimate. What would be best of all was if it really were intimate, and not just the superficial familiarity of fame.... Not that he wasn't friends with his citizens. But somehow.... somehow, did any of them really know him? How many would he feel comfortable baring his heart to? It was a faintly unsettling thought, and he picked up the scythe, this time holding it well away from him--and the others, for that matter--as he twisted the vertebrae again. The blade snapped shut with the same speed it had sprang open, and he smiled, resting the pole over one shoulder and glancing at the price tag before fishing in his pocket to unearth the coins to pay.
That would be his weapon then, and he hoped he could soon learn how to properly use it. Hopefully, Gaston had some measure of experience.... otherwise, he was on his own then, wasn't he? Ah, well.... He'd been doing fine for himself for decades; he'd manage this too. What about Blue and Bakura, though? Would they be arming themselves as well?