Carmen Sandiego (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doitrockapella) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
route_10652014-05-16 10:10 pm
doitrockapella) wrote in route_10652014-05-16 10:10 pm
If you're one of us, then roll with us
Who: Anyone over the legal drinking age in Johto! (which I believe is age 20?)
Where: The streets and venues of Goldenrod City!
When: Friday, May 16th
Summary: It's Friday, Friday, and we're gettin' down on Friday with a big honkin' Bar Crawl Katamari.
Rating: PG-13 to be safe, and mark your threads accordingly if they go higher, please!
Log:
[It's funny how sometimes a passing aside can eventually snowball into a concrete notion that somehow ends up sounding like a really good idea — and if you're Carmen Sandiego, that also generally means it's a day ending in the letter "y". This time around, the passing aside had been simple enough; almost a joke, really. It's not as though she hasn't been warned about the utter peril she might be walking into by telling Lancer she'd buy him a drink for every story he can tell her; she's well aware his long memory is full of stories, and that he can almost certainly hold a drink for every one, which means she's likely to end up bankrupted if they end up keeping strictly to the terms of their bargain.
But it's also not as though money has ever taken precedence over fun in her life (or at least, it hasn't for a very long time, so long she's almost forgotten that time ever existed), and ill-advised or not, the agreement had really boiled down to an excuse to do something social and have some fun on a Friday night, and there's something just refreshing enough about the unusual and foreign normalcy of it all that she's willing to give it a try.
Of course, being out in public on a Friday night naturally comes with perils of its own, including but not limited to seeing familiar faces, having surprise visits and unanticipated encounters with long-distance friends, and...well, dragging them along with you when the sights and sounds of one bar get tedious and everybody sort of ends up deciding to go find another one instead.
So come on down, stop on by; the mission for this evening is to take a ragtag league of extraordinary gentlepersons and successfully navigate an average social outing with a standard modicum of shenanigans involved.
Which is, of course, the extraordinary gentleperson way of saying TONIGHT WE'RE GOING HARD.]
[OOC: Okay, so! This is an open log for anyone over the drinking age who is currently in Goldenrod City right now and wants to come hang out for a Friday Night At The Bar; just tag your starters with a location and maybe an average estimate of what time of the night it's taking place at. Presumably the group's going to move around at least once or twice so you might catch them in a bar, on the streets of Goldenrod, or feel free to have groups wander away from the pack and go do their own thing — whatever floats your boat! The log's open for everyone, to be used as you see fit. Just please mark all warnings accordingly in your threads and tag responsibly! o/ ]
Where: The streets and venues of Goldenrod City!
When: Friday, May 16th
Summary: It's Friday, Friday, and we're gettin' down on Friday with a big honkin' Bar Crawl Katamari.
Rating: PG-13 to be safe, and mark your threads accordingly if they go higher, please!
Log:
[It's funny how sometimes a passing aside can eventually snowball into a concrete notion that somehow ends up sounding like a really good idea — and if you're Carmen Sandiego, that also generally means it's a day ending in the letter "y". This time around, the passing aside had been simple enough; almost a joke, really. It's not as though she hasn't been warned about the utter peril she might be walking into by telling Lancer she'd buy him a drink for every story he can tell her; she's well aware his long memory is full of stories, and that he can almost certainly hold a drink for every one, which means she's likely to end up bankrupted if they end up keeping strictly to the terms of their bargain.
But it's also not as though money has ever taken precedence over fun in her life (or at least, it hasn't for a very long time, so long she's almost forgotten that time ever existed), and ill-advised or not, the agreement had really boiled down to an excuse to do something social and have some fun on a Friday night, and there's something just refreshing enough about the unusual and foreign normalcy of it all that she's willing to give it a try.
Of course, being out in public on a Friday night naturally comes with perils of its own, including but not limited to seeing familiar faces, having surprise visits and unanticipated encounters with long-distance friends, and...well, dragging them along with you when the sights and sounds of one bar get tedious and everybody sort of ends up deciding to go find another one instead.
So come on down, stop on by; the mission for this evening is to take a ragtag league of extraordinary gentlepersons and successfully navigate an average social outing with a standard modicum of shenanigans involved.
Which is, of course, the extraordinary gentleperson way of saying TONIGHT WE'RE GOING HARD.]
[OOC: Okay, so! This is an open log for anyone over the drinking age who is currently in Goldenrod City right now and wants to come hang out for a Friday Night At The Bar; just tag your starters with a location and maybe an average estimate of what time of the night it's taking place at. Presumably the group's going to move around at least once or twice so you might catch them in a bar, on the streets of Goldenrod, or feel free to have groups wander away from the pack and go do their own thing — whatever floats your boat! The log's open for everyone, to be used as you see fit. Just please mark all warnings accordingly in your threads and tag responsibly! o/ ]
no subject
Whenever I'm feeling sick of all the assholes and weird bullshit around here.
[And whenever he feels the need to brood about the past.]
...so, pretty often.
[He points at Dietrich.] But I don't fuckin' brood like some teenager. I just mull.
You know. Over shit.
no subject
[He shoots Blake a shit-eating look.]
Whatever helps you sleep at night.
no subject
[He rolls his eyes.]
I sleep fine, asshole.
[The bags under his eyes don't agree with that. It's not like he's here because the shadowed quiet of hunch-shouldered drunks is better at keeping memory at bay than the close, familiar quiet of his apartment. He just didn't have anything better to do.
He gestures toward the crowd that blew in with Dietrich.]
What are you hauling around all these assholes for?
no subject
Clown car's still better than walking, sometimes.
[Which doesn't actually make a whole lot of sense since there's not actually a car, but the metaphor is probably apt somehow.]
Seriously, though, you look like shit. Something on your mind?
[...says the telepath.]
no subject
He rolls his eyes.] Well gee, thanks a fuckin' lot. This is just the face I have.
[He is aware that he does indeed look like shit. He traces his finger around the rim of his glass.]
I was just thinking about how different Crazy Bullshit Island is from the real world. How things here are... [It feels like a kind of treason to say it.] ...easier.
no subject
[He regards his near-empty glass, then seems to decide to just go for it and knocks the rest back. What the hell, there's more where that came from.]
No walking down the street to the tune of shooters in the upstairs windows and guys throwing gasoline on unsuspecting passerby? Yeah. That does make it easier around here.
no subject
[He watches approvingly as Dietrich knocks his drink back. No pussy, all right. He snorts.]
Never quite saw that happen, but yeah, it's been over a goddamn year since I heard a gunshot or saw somebody holding in their bleeding guts. No killers around here to track down.
[He takes a slow sip.]
Been a long damn time since I did anything useful.
no subject
[He laughs, shaking his head.]
That's a pretty dismal outlook, if you think the only use you are to anybody is if you're running around flashing your piece and saving the day. Take it from me, I've known a couple guys like that, and they're the most boring fuckheads I've ever had the displeasure of working with.
[Or against.]
Hell, learn to fish or something. You like to fish? I've never been but some people swear by it.
no subject
[He gestures over his beer, the dim lightbulb above making his hand's dense shadow flutter around. Dietrich being a smartass amuses him despite himself.] Nah, see, now that you said it, it'd be too easy.
[His expression fades. If it was somebody else, you might think he looks a little introspective. What comes out of his mouth is something he's said more than once before.] Somebody's gotta do it.
After a few years, you either live the job or you wash out. A cop's a cop.
[That leaves that old, unsettling question in his head: if he's not a cop, what is he?
It takes a second before he notices that Dietrich has said something else.] Huh? Oh, yeah. Used to fish back home with my dad. I've tried once or twice here but all I got was angry squid.
no subject
[Actually, that's not a very good analogy at all, but Blake's also getting tipsy here so maybe it'll still be valid.]
That's real important to you, though, huh? Being a cop?
no subject
A world with no crime? Shit, who'd ever even think about that? It's not gonna happen until everybody's dead. Even here where people can't die, there's still assholes blowing shit up and doing...I do know. Mail fraud and shit.
[He takes a swig.] Main difference is there's nothing I can do about it.
Course being a cop's important. You go around beating the shit out of bad guys, what else could you want?