Bo
Rogue Werewolf
Pickpocket
I can't grant your every wish, I'm not your knight in shining armour.
Posts: 177
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Post by Bo on Feb 10, 2007 0:48:29 GMT
Continued from: Club Interior with Mimi.
As they moved away from the chaos that was a busy night in the club’s interior, Bo wondered if his senses were teasing him, because if he didn’t know better, he could have sworn there was something… unique, about Mimi. But whatever it was, it didn’t seem dangerous in any way; his proverbial hackles hadn’t been raised, and he wasn’t feeling nervous at all. Bo trusted his instincts, and right now, they were telling him everything was fine.
They entered the lounge, with it’s single couch and table with a few chairs, and Bo allowed himself a crooked smile of his own. “Cosy…” he commented with a spark of sarcasm in his tone, looking to Mimi.
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Mimi
Human
Telepathic/Telekinetic Bartender: Lunacy
Here I come when I better go, I say yes when I oughta say no.
Posts: 161
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Post by Mimi on Feb 10, 2007 1:47:05 GMT
"It's not much," Mimi shot back with an over-the-shoulder grin. "But we all make do."
She retrieved her things from the locker that had been assigned to her. Of course, opening the locker required a bit of muscle; a well placed hit with the heel of her hand popped the door. Ultra-classy, of course. The locker was kicked shut by one booted foot and Mimi turned to face Bo, leaning against the flimsy metal door with her purse and jean jacket in one hand.
"So," she began cheekily. "You live close by, or...?"
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Bo
Rogue Werewolf
Pickpocket
I can't grant your every wish, I'm not your knight in shining armour.
Posts: 177
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Post by Bo on Feb 10, 2007 2:01:58 GMT
“Well, I guess you’ve got your essentials…” he remarked dryly, but with that smirk still in place. He wondered if any of the staff had ever crashed on the sofa, before he realised it wasn’t important, and he didn’t particularly care.
He grinned as she abused her locker to get it open. The werewolf stood not far from the door — not close enough to it to get hit by anyone coming in, of course — with the helmets still held in either hand. At her question, he chuckled quietly, reminding himself internally not to mention territory lines or boundaries… that wouldn’t make sense to a human, and hell, it didn’t make sense to some werewolves in the city… of course, that type of ignorance usually led to an ‘accident’ or encounter of some kind.
“Close enough,” he replied with an equal amount of cheek, and a quirk of his brows.
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Mimi
Human
Telepathic/Telekinetic Bartender: Lunacy
Here I come when I better go, I say yes when I oughta say no.
Posts: 161
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Post by Mimi on Feb 10, 2007 2:16:32 GMT
His response shouldn't have surprised her. After all, he was friends with Fiona. The blonde 'tender smiled crookedly and one feminine brow arched toward her hairline. She sauntered up to her new 'companion,' making sure to invade his personal space; the fingers of her free hand found his beltloop again.
"Shall we, then?"
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Bo
Rogue Werewolf
Pickpocket
I can't grant your every wish, I'm not your knight in shining armour.
Posts: 177
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Post by Bo on Feb 10, 2007 4:04:06 GMT
He liked her attitude; she had a kind of reckless courage that he found appealing, and naturally so. Bo didn’t like dull, or bland, or ordinary, or safe. He liked new, and exciting, and fresh, and dangerous… and the bigger combination he could find, the better. Mimi seemed to promise a fair few of those things, and he grinned as she hooked his belt once more.
In something of a slyly cliché response, he said, “We shall.” His head cocked in his typical manner, his grin lessening into a smirk, but the intrigue and cheek were still very much in evidence, and no doubt wouldn’t be fading anytime soon.
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Mimi
Human
Telepathic/Telekinetic Bartender: Lunacy
Here I come when I better go, I say yes when I oughta say no.
Posts: 161
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Post by Mimi on Feb 10, 2007 4:22:12 GMT
Mimi just flashed a smile, merely nodding her head in such a way that suggested Bo should follow as she slipped out the back door. She saw the helmets that he carried, felt a thrill of excitement; bikers...she did have a bit of a weakness for them.
Of course, that wasn't the end all, be all with this one. Bo had a little something extra -- way more than most of the cocky punks who rolled through. There was something vaguely feral and dangerous about him, something not entirely human that attracted Mimi; intrigued her. She wasn't looking for any kind of meaningful relationship, but she was definitely looking forward to getting to know the blonde biker a whole lot better.
Continued at: Club Exterior with Bo
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Laurie
Human
Pyrokinetic Singer/Dancer: Lunacy
It's time to trust my instincts; close my eyes and leap!
Posts: 27
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Post by Laurie on Dec 17, 2007 23:24:48 GMT
POST TIMESKIP
The magazine wasn’t hers, but the well-deserved hot chocolate most certainly was. So the staff lounge at Lunacy left something to be desired, but it had a grungy old couch, an armchair, a coffee table and a kettle and sink area; that was more than enough for her. She’d been working for hours, and it was starting to take its toll. She was flopped on that couch, uncaring as to what might cling to her punk t-shirt at the back, head propped up by old cushions that had been stacked together for some semblance of decent padding, and the magazine was more or less draped across her raised legs, balanced back on her jean-clad thighs.
God, what she wouldn’t do for a good, mindless ten minutes of TV right about now. She sighed heavily, reaching for her hot chocolate. With a small groan, she realised it was going cold, but with a little application of thought and a tighter grip, she released heat into the exterior of the mug, watching fresh steam start to spill upward from the rim. Laurie smiled, faintly, and took a sip.
Much better.
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Laurie
Human
Pyrokinetic Singer/Dancer: Lunacy
It's time to trust my instincts; close my eyes and leap!
Posts: 27
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Post by Laurie on Feb 23, 2008 3:12:57 GMT
Laurie gave the bottom of her now-empty mug a forlorn look, even going so far as to frown with a sigh. Oh well. It was probably for the best. One glance at the crooked clock hanging on the wall long overdue a paint-job informed her that her break was just about over, and the drone she could hear from the club’s main floor not twenty feet away was more than enough of a sign for her that she should get herself to her feet. There was no pointing pissing off the manager by slacking off when she would be back to herself in no time.
Wasting only thirty seconds, if that, at the sink washing out the mug, she set it on the draining board to dry off naturally before she wiped her hands off on one of the dishcloths and then checked she hadn’t left a mess anywhere. Tossing the cloth back towards the counter, she dusted her dried hands off on one another, checked her appearance once in the slightly cracked mirror, and then committed herself to getting her butt back to work.
No rest for the wicked.
Continued in: Club Interior.
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