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December Mini-TDM - "The Dead of Winter"
[Mod Note: This is a Mini-TDM (previously just called an "Open" post) because we were technically due for a fresh bi-monthly TDM. However, due to the light-duty December schedule and the fact that a December-themed TDM that also works for January is kind of limiting, we're doing a single-month mini-TDM now with a new two-month TDM coming in January! This public post is open to both new and existing players/characters. Please mind the content warnings, and enjoy!]
Pumpkin Hollow Gazette
12/10/2023 | Mini-TDM - "The Dead of Winter"
Content Warnings: "Further Details" section has independent CW labels.

Pumpkin Hollow continues to welcome new residents!
HOLIDAY BAZAAR NOW OPEN FOR BUSINESS
By Yorick Aberdeen
MAIN STREET - Splendid news, Pumpkin Hollowites! In preparation for Givingstide, the annual Main Street Holiday Bazaar is now open from now until the end of the month in Downtown Hollow! With the failed-then-rescheduled Dance of Celestine debacle behind us, we could all use a bit of festive cheer as Marrow Isle enters its most difficult season. Come down to Town Hall for a simple game that comes with fantastic prizes, then enjoy an afternoon on the town! Enjoy the spectacle of festive decorations amid snowy streets, and find any number of finely crafted gifts to share with your loved ones this Givingstide.
Long-time residents, please remember that for the first time in a long while we have residents who have never experienced a Pumpkin Hollow Givingstide before. It is important that we show our best and most festive hospitality to newer residents, and comfort anyone who might be homesick during this time. Have a Blessed Givingstide, and may your lantern always be lit!New Oven Installed; Pizza Feast Commences
By Cecil Gershwin Palmer

The oven in question.
NORTHWEST HOLLOW - Local blacksmith River LaCroix has built a free-standing pizza oven on the farm belonging to Arthur Morgan.
Pizza, first created by Francisco Pizarro in the early 1500s before his assassination by Gavrilo Princip, is a food celebrated for its flavor and the variety of possible topping combinations it has. It begins with a base of dough, traditionally made from wheat or wheat by-products. This is then topped with a sauce (tomato is traditional, though other varieties involve barbecue sauce or chocolate sauce) and a cheese that melts easily, along with any vegetables, fruit, meat or other vaguely edible ingredients one desires. Spicy sausages called pepperoni are very popular, as well as mushrooms, peppers and even chunks of pineapple. Anyone who tells you that pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza is simply incorrect and should not be trusted.
In celebration of the new oven’s creation, free personal-sized pizzas will be cooked and shared with all residents of Pumpkin Hollow, funded by local reporter Cecil Gershwin Palmer. Arthur Morgan’s farm is easily reached by trolley, or on foot if you’re scared of trolleys. But it really is a long walk, so just ride with a friend if you’re scared, really, they won’t hurt you. At least, we don’t think they will. Then again, considering how riding the train went in November, you never know…
Regardless! Pizza, Arthur Morgan’s farm, free food, perhaps even drinks? We look forward to seeing you there.

FESTIVE FIEND SIGHTED ACROSS MARROW ISLE
By Yorick Aberdeen

The jingling menace.
ISLAND-WIDE - Reports of a mysterious horned creature sporting strangely seasonally appropriate attire have come in from all over the island over the past week. Witnesses say that this apparently demonic holiday entity somewhat resembles our local Pine Devil, but has curled ram horns instead of antlers and is wingless. He is also apparently capable of speech, as victims claim to have heard him speaking about “wicked deeds” and “naughty behavior” and repeating a gibberish word occasionally--- “Christmas.” The reports detail multiple instances of harassment as well as public acts of violence that are definitely not comical in any way. It is absolutely in no way hilarious to see someone get smacked with a stick in broad daylight by an evil satyr wearing Givingstide getup and jingling festively, and this matter is extremely serious.
Despite resisting arrest and avoiding being detained by the constabulary on numerous occasions, the demon was strangely available for comment. He has identified himself as Krampus the “Christmas” Devil and had this to say of his crimes: “It’s my proud duty and a longstanding tradition that I punish the naughty and wicked every holiday season. It’s practically a civil service, if you ask me. Maybe if you didn’t want to be attacked, you might stop being such a troublemaker and be a blessing to your neighbor for a bit. Or don’t. More fun for me that way.” He then proceeded to take a large fistful of candies from the bowl on Miss Leeds' desk and disappeared in a puff of snow, leaving the carpet wet.
Anyone with any further information about this Krampus creature should reach out to the constabulary with tips. Any noteworthy reports are appreciated!
MOURNER’S NIGHT PROCESSION INFORMATION
By Yorick Aberdeen

The town's lone hearse, prepared for duty after annual maintenance.
FALL'S PROMISE CEMETERY - While it is always easy to get swept up in the jolly festivities of Givingstide, it is important that we also remember to pay homage to the spirits of those we have lost and the goddess who guides them, and whose protection we seek in this most difficult time of the year. Each winter, when the world is at its darkest and its coldest, we take to the streets and process to Fall’s Promise in the tradition of our age old funeral practices. Mayor Poe will have the honor of leading us this year.
To participate, join us in the streets at 6:00pm. Dress warmly, as it has been snowing quite a bit this past week and will not have melted. The procession will begin promptly once everyone has their candles lit, so please be timely and even early if you are able.
Please inquire at the Temple of Sacred Roots if you have any questions regarding Mourner’s Night.
Page 1
Holiday Bazaar
Main Street is beautifully decorated, each lamp post strung together with pine garlands and cranberry strings. The frigid air preserves them perfectly and coats them all in a light frost. Windows of shops glow warmly with festive decorations. Images of horses, either alone or drawing carriages or sleighs, can be seen everywhere. Advertisements for sales and specials dot the street corners and the air is full of delicious smells--- coffee, chocolate, sugar, fruit, roasted meat. Booths are also placed along the streets near Town Hall, and merchants hawk their wares. Artisan crafts and jarred preserves, decorations and novelties, all manner of thoughtful gifts. Givingstide approaches, they declare!
What is Givingstide, you ask? Why, any local will gladly tell you! It’s the festival of midwinter, anticipating the return of spring. Warmer weather, longer days, fresh food, all drawing ever nearer as Winter reaches its peak. Gifts are exchanged to share blessings with loved ones, appreciate them for all they’ve done for you this past year and wish them prosperity in the next one. Perhaps similar holidays are familiar to you.
kr
The holiday bazaar is the perfect place to buy a gift for Givingstide. It’s also a magical place for a walk with friends, or even a date. So many beautiful items for sale! And booths selling warm drinks and sweet treats! There are even carriage drivers offering rides up and down the street to take in the scenery, their steeds and vehicles garnished with silver bells and cedar boughs.
Also, right outside of Town Hall, there is a booth that is selling nothing. In fact, it is offering something for free--- a voucher that can be used to make purchases here! While it can only be used to make purchases from the holiday bazaar and expires after Givingstide, vouchers can be good for up to a whopping 500 Brass. All one needs to do to acquire it is win a trivia game! Ten questions, 50 Brass for each right answer. Perhaps you can earn yourself a bit of extra pocket change?
You'll Catch Your Death of Cold
[CW: manipulative language, hypothermia, starvation.]
There’s always something wrong with Lockwood Forest. From the Pine Devil to Brutoks, some manner of strange nonsense is always going on, and it is almost always dangerous. Less so when the cheerful spectral pocket monsters were here, but now that they’ve moved on and a blanket of snow has coated the leafy ground, the eerie quiet here has returned. Not only that, but the trails are covered. This isn’t a huge issue in areas of the forest with more traffic as there are plenty of footprints to follow, but deeper in, the forest becomes a maze.
Despite the danger, you’ve decided to go in. There are any number of reasons why you’ve done this: needing to hunt or forage to sustain your food supplies through the winter, searching for firewood in places that aren’t already picked over, seeking a quiet moment alone. Perhaps you simply got lost. These things happen, especially if you’re new to the island. No one will judge you, probably! Hopefully you at least didn’t come alone.
Regardless, the trails are covered. It’s hard to tell which gaps between trees are part of the path or just formed naturally. Animal footprints sprawl out in all directions like a spider’s web, which only serves to make things more confusing. Soon you begin to feel turned around somehow. Is it just you, or have the past five trees you walked by looked really similar? Haven’t you seen this holly bush before? You could swear you’ve been this way three times already… Oh dear. It’s so hard to tell. Even if you’re otherwise good at navigating the woods, something about this expanse of white snow and imposing pine trees is throwing you off. Almost as if there is some kind of magic at work here…
You wander the forest for a long time. For a while, your cold tolerance had peaked at that point where you’d been out long enough that you were used to it but not so long that it was starting to wear you down, but that peak is waning quickly. It’s freezing, and you’ve been out in it for a long time now. It sinks into your bones, making you feel sluggish. The chill bites at your face and the wind stings your eyes. Unless you have a traveling companion who is lost with you, there’s a strong chance you haven’t seen another person in… How long has it been? Hours? Days? Surely it can’t have been days. It certainly feels like days. Everything hurts and you are very hungry.
”You look so tired.” You have no idea where the voice comes from, but it’s clearly not just in your head. The echo through the trees causes a startled bird to fly off nearby. Maybe it’s just the haze that’s come over you from the shivering chill and deep exhaustion you feel that is making you so disoriented by the sound of the voice. All you know is that it is close, and it is beautiful and sweet. ”It must have been exhausting, walking all this way. Did you come to see me, or for something else?” You don’t remember the answer.
”Here, follow me. I’ll take you to safety.”

”Come, lie down. Rest your weary bones. The snow here is softer than any bed.” Looking at those mounds of pristine, untouched snow, you begin to feel like whoever this is might be right. And you are so tired. ”You are safe here. You are loved. The world is beautiful and peaceful here. No more monsters, no more pain. Just rest in the arms of someone who loves you. Can’t you feel the warmth of my love?”
As the voice says this, you do notice that you start to feel warmer. Almost uncomfortably warm in your clothes, and you’re tempted to shed them. In the depths of your exhaustion, it is hard to tell if this is the warmth of a loving embrace or something else. But your shivering stops and you feel held. It’s so quiet here, so far away from the town of ghosts and monsters and people and work that you know.
”I promise you are safe here. I will take care of you. Just sleep now, my darling. I love you. Stay with me and you will want for nothing.”
The desire to lie down becomes nearly irresistible.
[ You are entering severe hypothermia. If you sleep here, you will die. If you came here alone, there is a chance someone else could find and rescue you. If you came with a traveling companion, you may be able to overcome the trance and the chill together. Or, if you like, you could write about the aftermath of dying. See our Death page for details! ]
Krampusnacht
[CW: Harassment (tone of comic mischief) ]
Have you been naughty or nice this year? In Pumpkin Hollow, there are no such tales--- but you and your extradimensional neighbors are hardly the first things here to be snatched from other worlds. And there is no better reminder than the mysterious horned figure that has been lurking about town.
If perhaps you’ve been up to some mischief this year, you may begin to see him out of the corner of your eye as the snows of December begin to fall. Did you hurt someone’s feelings? Take the last muffin without asking? Commit unspeakable evils in your former life? Sounds like you’re due for a visit from Krampus!
It all starts with a lump of coal, left out in the open in a place it should not be. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you’ll spot a horned and furry figure (that is decidedly not the Pine Devil) in the distance wielding a bundle of bound sticks in one hand and a sack in the other, wearing a wicked grin. Incongruous with his ghastly, beast-like appearance, he sometimes wears a red cloak lined with white fur or golden jingle bells on red ribbons tied to his ankle. He’ll disappear behind a snow drift and you will think your mind is playing tricks on you.
Next, you’ll begin to find your personal items missing. Wherever you left them, they’ll just be gone, and in their place will be a candy cane. In case you were worried that it might be a nice little treat, fear not! It tastes utterly foul.
The final stage is more direct visits from the Christmas Devil. He will ambush you at any time of day to attack you with sticks regardless of how public the location is, that way everyone can know what a troublemaker you are! He will also occasionally stuff you into his sack and abandon you at random locations, typically unpleasant ones. He cannot be killed--- indeed, he cannot even be struck, dodging quickly or disappearing and reappearing in puffs of snow every time you try and cackling all the while. So how do you get rid of him?
That’s easy! Just get yourself onto the Nice List by any means necessary. Time to start doing some good deeds around town and hope you aren’t subject to any more attacks in the meantime. If you do a good enough job, you may even get your missing items back! Gruß vom Krampus!
Mourner’s Night
[CW: grief and past death in the context of the holiday season]
As the early dark of high winter begins to fall, people begin to gather on the streets. A somewhat odd sight, but this isn’t the first time that people have come together under lantern light for an event that is in defiance of the danger posed by darkness. They are bundled tightly, wearing mostly black if it is available in clothes warm enough, and many people have donned veils which cover their faces with black lace.
From the streets, there is an informal procession. At intervals, there are men in uniform black military peacoats and black caps carrying tall poles with bright lanterns on top, swaying in the frigid air. Their faces are painted to look like skulls. Yorick is among them. Despite the difference in gender, River is invited to take up this role, implying something about what these lantern-bearers are meant to symbolize. The rest of the townsfolk are asked to follow along as they please, each bearing a long white candle stuck into a paper cup meant to catch its wax. The candles are in no danger of blowing out— the wind is eerily still.
The procession is largely silent. The people who do speak do so only in whispers. It winds through the streets of the town, converging on one of the main roads. Once it is clear of buildings, the front of the solemn parade becomes visible. A black funeral carriage, like one that may have once conveyed caskets, bearing lanterns at each corner. The two black horses are marked with skeletons using white chalk on their fur, and it is driven by a woman in garb representative of deepest mourning. This is Hellen Poe, playing the role of Mortanne.

Beyond the wrought iron gate, there is more silence. Locals gather around the graves of their friends and loved ones, saying silent prayers and spending time in contemplative remembrance. You see Dahlia stand outside the central mausoleum, looking grimly up at her own name carved into the stone.
Degas has made his way over to a grave. He is here as himself, not as a reverend, and he does not leave the side of the headstone he gravitated toward. Melly Clayton.
Meanwhile, Dr. West is loitering at the back near a gargoyle. For once even he is present. And far off in the shadows, a small figure looms outside the fringes of lantern light, looking off into the sea. Silvery hairs catch the light occasionally. Elsie.
The candlelight vigil remains silent for a long time as people recall and honor their loved ones. Any sound of shuffling or movement is dampened further by soft, fluffy snow, creating a deep and heavy hush that is almost loud in its soundlessness. Perhaps, deep in the Season of Spirits, the presence of the fallen can be felt in the quiet dark.
Your mind drifts as the somber reverence beckons your mind to your memories. Who do you honor? A lost lover, a passed parent, someone you left behind in your life before?
Or perhaps you honor yourself. You did die to get here, after all. And it’s probable that you aren’t the only one to think so.
In the distance, the bell tower chimes. Then, rising up from the snow, soft at first and then louder, a song. The locals are beginning to sing a hymn about Mortanne sharing carriage rides with passengers, reminiscing about their lives as her carriage drives them to the afterlife. Did you learn it from a local before the festival? Do you sing, hum, or remain silent?
As the song finally comes to a close, all at once the locals blow out their candles, leaving the graveyard in darkness aside from the lantern poles. The silence now broken, people shuffle along, meeting up to mingle and hug or heading home for an early night. Some of them are crying.
Additional Note:
If you have any form of ESP, you notice something while attending Mourner’s Night. This includes people who have a special connection with spirits or death, or any sort of true sight that allows them to see things others cannot.
Toward the end of the hymn, a person you hadn’t seen before catches your eye. She is a young woman, with long black hair and a tattered white gown. Her eyes are sunken and her skin is marred with contusions and scars. She looks very, very tired. She is sitting on the boarded-up well that is on the far end of the cemetery. Even in the orange glow of candlelight, you can tell she is quite pale.
Across the graveyard, her eyes meet yours. Then the song ends, the candlelight dies, and she seems to blink out of existence.
jeff | original | new player/character
Jeff finds his way to the tavern, shivering, disoriented, moving like he's walking through a dream. This all certainly feels like a dream, after all, another waking nightmare like countless others, spanning months and months and months...
The woman with the white hair, the boat ride with the silent ferryman, the welcome from... from... what's her name. The mayor. He drifted through these moments only paying half-attention, the rest of his mind searching, reaching, scrambling for something left behind.
It's not here anymore. It's back... back home, or back wherever it came from, that unknowable plane of pure magic and indefiniteness. Everything's so quiet now. Even in this tavern, surrounded by people, his head's too quiet. It's quiet, and-- and he's so fucking lonely.
Jeff drinks, of course. He goes for what's strongest and cheapest, and he follows it up with another, downed as quickly as if it was water. Even with his tolerance for all things intoxicating, he's too skinny, too underfed to stay sober for long.
Good. He doesn't want to be sober. If he can't have noise, he'll drown out the silence in booze and reckless bullshit.
So if you're at the Oak & Iron when Jeff makes his debut, you may catch sight of him sneaking sips (or, you know, gulps) of drinks left unattended, finishing off dregs from empty glasses, flirting and sweet talking his way into more drinks.
He may even try to steal your drink, if you step away for a moment. Or he'll smile all sweet and playful and say, "Hey. Wanna be my welcome wagon for the night?"
....does that even make sense? Does he even fucking care? No and nope.
II. HOLIDAY BAZAAR
Jeff checks out the holiday bazaar. Of course he checks it out. And hopefully he doesn't stick out as an obvious newcomer now that he's got a cheap, secondhand coat to bundle up in.
The great thing about this coat is it's got, like, pockets. And it can cover up all kinds of trinkets, if he so happens to get his hands on any.
Look, he's new in town, he's broke, he's traumatized, he's reeling from existential crises, so doesn't he deserve a treat? Come on, be a pal and look the other way while he slips a pair of cozy knitted hand warmers into his pocket, or sneakily swipes a hat.
There's one vendor that he doesn't seem inclined to try and steal from, and he circles back to the booth several times over the day to check out some ornately carved music boxes. The craftsmanship, while gorgeous, doesn't seem to be what catches his interest. It's the music itself, and one tune, from one box in particular, seems to captivate him. He closes his eyes and listens with something like awe or reverence, even if he doesn't recognize the song, really.
If you're standing nearby, he'll eventually open his eyes and ask, his voice dreamy, "Do you know this song?"
III. KRAMPUSNACHT
There's a sack hanging from a lamp post. Or a tree. Or dumped unceremoniously by some trash cans.
The sack squirms. Something inside is clawing and kicking at the burlap, in a totally futile attempt at escape.
"Oh fucking-- come on, dude, let me out!"
HELP.
IV. WILDCARD
[ HIT ME WITH ANYTHING.
character tldr: Jeff's a messy, hedonistic rock 'n roll himbo bard from 1995 who's spent the past year being kind of sort of possessed(ish) by a demon. Kind of. It's Complicated. anyway hit me up at
Krampusnacht
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He stops squirming and lets out a muffled, "My hero..."
It's weird, though. He can't see them, and he can hear the branches moving, but otherwise, it's like... like he's being rescued by a ninja or something. Dude's quiet.
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"Are you alright in there?"
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Holiday Bazaar
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Jeff yelps and drops the hat. He looks up at the man-- no, dinosaur-- no, wait, bird?-- beside him, eyes wide.
Bird man. Giant bird man.
...
Fuck, birds are scary.
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Not just any bird, but a fucking police bird, here to make you suffer for your crimes!
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but why were black currants banned!!!
Infodump given on discord, stalkers PM if you want it too.
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Arrival
They ask, in a voice so dry it's a wonder their lips don't crack, "Too much blood in your alcohol system?"
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Now that he's been caught, Jeff sets the beer back down and nudges it closer to Chris in surrender. He doesn't look guilty, or remorseful, or anything, just drunk, tired, and badly hiding it behind a playful mask.
"Not enough--" A beat as he has to stop and reconsider their words. Too much blood-- ohhh. "Um. No, yeah, that's it." He points a finger gun at Chris. "Biiiingo."
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"Fist of all, if you got your vouchers from the welcome committee at Town Hall, they are accepted for alcohol purchase." Chris refrains from mentioning that the bartender is likely to cut a person off before they spend all their vouchers that way. "Second, there's no need to steal from folks. That's no way to make a good impression with your new neighbors."
And third, this guy might even be skinnier than Chris was, at their arrival. Easy to overindulge in that case.
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Holidary Bazaar
"I don't," First Aid says softly, his seven-foot-tall, metal body angled to protect Jeff from the wind. "But it was lovely, wasn't it?"
His metal face can't change its shape or show an expression, but his voice is very soft and warm, even gentle in tone.
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"Yeah. It's like..." He glances down at the music box again, fidgeting a little, before setting it back down. "I never heard this song before, but I... I dunno, it feels familiar, you know? Like, like the feelings in it." The vibes? Whatever. He wrinkles his nose. "That's a dumb way of putting it, I guess."
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Arrival/Krampusnacht
Arrival
Tarantulas has never been what one might call conventionally attractive. Although he shed, like an old moult, most of his more monstrous features when he accepted the white-haired woman's deal, his eight glittering eyes and and the coarse, purple fur covering his hands and face mean he could never be mistaken for human.
Thus it should be perfectly understandable that he reacts to an apparently drunken human's offer with a loud, startled laugh. "Excuse me?" he asks, too surprised to be calculating or offended. "Was that supposed to be a come on?"
Krampusnacht
"Stop struggling!" Tarantulas snaps, following up the demand with an unsteady kick somewhere in Jeff's direction. A second bag hangs next to his own, containing a very angry spider-man. Perhaps the Krampus is trying peer counseling?
Arrival
Definitely not human, nope, but Jeff doesn't discriminate! Honestly, after his experiences with nightmarish, psychedelic unreality, senses melting between the physical world and what lies elsewhere, a fuzzy purple dude isn't the strangest or most off-putting thing he's ever seen.
And he's drunk enough that he may be interpreting Tarantulas's overall appearance as, like, a sexy muppet right now.
"Mm..." He considers the question. "Mmmmmaybe? How'd I do?"
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Tarantulas props his chin up on hand, giving the human a slow, smirking once-over. "Let's say you did well enough to catch my interest," he says; it's not technically even a lie. "What's your next move?"
Arguably Tarantulas should have more self-respect than to let some random drunk proposition him in a bar...but on the other tarsus, he should have arguably had more self-respect than to take up with Overlord, and look how that turned out. And it has been a good fistful of weeks since he parted ways with his 'darling,' hyeh hyeh...
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Krampusnacht
And he aims his own blind, uncoordinated, totally flailing kick in... what he thinks might be Tarantulas's general direction. It's kind of hard to tell from inside the bag. He might just be kicking at the air.
Re: Krampusnacht
With a string of muttered curses, Tarantulas transforms into his spider-form -- making the bag holding him sway even harder in the process, bumping into Jeff's several times -- and then shrinks down to the size of a kitten, freeing himself as best as he can from his clothes. He doesn't want them to be ruined by this nonsense.
And then, once he's sure they're out of the way, he grows.
And grows.
And grows, until the bag splits around him and he's left clinging to the lamppost, a purple tarantula the size of an especially fat and barrel-shaped pony.
He shakes a scrap of burlap off his eyes and then swipes a clawed foot through the rope tying Jeff's bag to the lamppost, letting him fall into the snowdrift -- and heap of Tarantulas's clothing -- below. He did say he was going to get them both down, after all.
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cw: reference to cannibalism!
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cw: death
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Arrival!
He also wasn't sure if being someone's welcome wagon made sense but you know what? He wasn't going to argue about it. Instead, he smiled, relaxed and charming. "Sure thing, sweetheart. Drinking's always better with company, anyway. Especially when shit's rough. Consider me your partner in crime or whatever for the day." Which was especially funny considering he was an enforcer. "Drinks are on me, so whatever you want."
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He pulls up a seat beside Kavinsky, flashing a lopsided grin in return.
"Yeah? I could get up to all kinds of shit with a partner. Like..." He waves a hand and laughs. "You know, petty crimes only, I swear." Light mischief!
He orders a drink, straight liquor, but not totally bottom shelf like before. He could probably use food or water or something, if he wanted to be responsible, but fuck that. Jeff's not responsible; he's never been responsible. The goal is: total obliteration, and maybe some fun along the way.
"I'm Jeff. Just..." He wiggles his fingers abstractly. "...blew in."
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"Uh-huh." His smile was quickly becoming a smirk. "I'm not a stranger to crime. So long as no one gets hurt, it's generally cool with me." He just had to draw a line somewhere, after all- and not just because he'd be a shitty enforcer if he let people get hurt for no good reason.
He took a sip of his own drink, what was left of it, anyway, before replying. "I'm Kavinsky. Been here about a month, I guess. First day just becomes a blur, after the fact- though it might be 'cause I also got drunk immediately."
sorry this took so long! holidays and total brain fog killed me for a while
II. HOLIDAY BAZAAR
Their pupils are pinpricks in wide, staring eyes.
"Comrade! Enjoying the music? Have you been to see Comrade Holloway?"
[OOC note: Grace's player is on hiatus but will be back Soon(tm); she does live performances on a regular basis]
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Jeff does his best to swallow back a startled yelp, so it kind of comes out like, "Aa-- haaaaa, no, um, I mean, yeah? I like... Music. Never seen, um, uh, Hall... Hallow... Hollow... Uh. Who's that?" A beat. "Comrade."
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Wrap?
Arrival, the Oak & Iron
"I know we're not exactly permanently dead here, but don't you think barmat shots and backwash are a little heinous?"
You know, as she's reaching for another glass that hasn't been whisked away yet to pour part of her beer into to offer in place of shooing him off.
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"Uh..."
Could it be any more obvious that he's mentally scrambling for some excuse he can say to exonerate himself?
All that nervous energy fades, though, once Magne starts to pour him some of her drink. He flashes a grateful smile, a little more sheepish and chastened than he'd normally look.
"I dunno, it can be kinda fun. Every drink's like a surprise, you know? Plus, I bet my body's totally immune to germs now." Because that's how science works! "But, um. Thanks."
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