undergrounds | do you fly in the day, darling

Entry tags:

do you fly in the day, darling

[A June catch-all! Pick an option and say hello, or start something more specific in the comments. Hit me up on plurk if you want a specific starter!]

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A Just another Saturday night out, Nancy's lips painted blood red and staining the side of her low-ball glass. Her legs are crossed at the ankles, black pumps and fishnets on full display under her short leather skirt. It's a night out, another night working. People around here knew who she was, what she offered. It was easier in supernatural bars, Nancy knew, to find vampires looking for a feeding, or even just a john wanting some company.

She props an elbow up on the bar, and looks down the the way, eyes peeled for any familiar, or unfamiliar, face. She'll just try not to think about how great it would be to be watching Netflix right now instead of work.

B Do you believe in fate, baby, ask me, ask me, the music played in her earbuds as Nancy jogged in place at a cross-walk. Trainers on her feet and hair pulled up in a pony-tail, she was doing her usual exercise routine. Always good to be fast on your feet, she'd learned as a child, and running was a great way to keep that up. Even if she had ways to get away, her feet were still just as important.

Besides, there was something relaxing about running, she'd found. She could shove the world away and concentrate on the music and running and the city. She'd found her way down to the Thames, and was running on the paths near it, past youths with skateboards and graffiti'd walls, business men grabbing a bite to eat right outside the Globe. It was astounding the way the culture and history blended together so seamlessly. She'd never get over that.

The light turned green, and on she ran.

C Choose your own! Private starters in the comments.

Threaded | Flat

Well. Taking Stiles to the ball had been a disaster. After some hasty damage control via text, she'd arranged for the boy to come visit the next day for dinner. Show him a really good time.

And she was going to do just that, with a new pack of beer in the fridge, a little bit of canway, if he was into that. Putting some in a small pipe, Nancy allowed herself a few hits of the drug as she worked on dinner. Nothing too fancy, she was just throwing together a beef lasagna, hoping that was something he'd enjoy. Worst came to worst, she knew, they could always go down to the pub. Or order a pizza. Pizza was always a good option.

Finally, the food was in the oven, and she'd already started on a bottle of beer, music playing softly in the background, and Juliet playing on the white couch. Now Stiles just needed to show up and she could continue the damage control, making sure he was okay, answering the myriad of questions he had. Y'know. Usual friends hanging out things.

Heiji blew past a kid on a pair of rollerblades and into the street, but he did a bit of a double take when he spotted Nancy.

"Hey, ain't expect to see you around again. Glad ya recovered from that disco fiasco!"

"Out fishin' tonight, are we?" Cooper plops down into the seat next to Nancy, raising a hand and ordering a beer from the bartender. He's dressed much more casually than he was at the ball. He's wearing an old plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off and a leather vest that's looking quite battered and worn. Topping off the look are a pair of construction boots that have been laced up around feet that look just a little too big for his skinny frame. No matter how he dresses, he still looks like a kid trying to look older than he actually is.

It's not the kind of place that he'd spend a usual Saturday night, much more interested in rest and recuperation or simply anything that involves a large amount of privacy, but despite the claustrophobic air he maneuvers through the bar only to take a bold seat right at her side.

The bartender is waved away for now, his stern expression seeming to age him a few years though it's still clear that he's young and it shows in the look the man gives him. Not that Sasuke minds too much.

"Hey."

[apollo's not sure why he moved into an apartment so far away from the food store, but that's exactly why he saved enough for a bike before even moving to england, since it was his easy solution to get around LA in the first place.

... if his tire didn't decide to go out.

he would've been fine with falling if he wasn't about to fall into a woman who was doing absolutely nothing wrong, which makes it the most scary few seconds of apollo's life—]

Hey, LOOK OUT— [CRASH DID YOU DODGE]

Edited 2015-06-05 00:19 (UTC)

[ he hadn't come here to drink, but that's how he ends up, leaning on the bar in a deceptively nonchalant pose, nursing a bottle of beer. he's slow to sip at it. the purpose of his visit had been information, but like so many other attempts, it had been a dead end. he's not sure why he's still hanging around. maybe it's just for the sake of appearances, or maybe he's hoping that his luck will change (ha). but it's quiet enough and the drink is decent, so he stays for the moment.

when he catches Nancy's scent amidst that of everyone else in here, it takes a moment to place it. perfume, make-up, and iron. he looks around, seeking her out.

his eyes flick up and down, eyebrows raising for all of a second. she looks somewhat different than she did on their first meeting - but then, so did he.

after offering her a nod in greeting, he ends up heading over, but he's seemingly in no hurry to say hello. ]

He's been keeping an eye on Nancy for a little while; trying to understand the witch who broke free of Fagin's hold. It's never happened before, not that he knows of, and he wants to understand it - what's so special about her that made it possible? Moreover, Fagin hasn't tried to exact any kind of revenge that he knows of. Nancy may be powerful, but she doesn't appear to know how to harness it, it couldn't possibly be that hard to deal with her if Fagin so wanted. Part of him suspects Fagin intends to try and get her back under his control, it's the only explanation he can think of.

It's not something he can figure out just by watching her, is what he's come to understand most of all. Time to make contact.

Eames stands on the other side of the crossing, waiting for Nancy. He doesn't step in her way or wave or anything like that, actually he's kind of curious as to whether she'd recognise him. Despite not making any overt effort to get her attention, he does look straight at her as she crosses the road, making no secret of the fact he's here to talk to her.

There's a knock at the door. A small one, as tiny and bony as Pel's fists are. A hood is pulled up over her silver hair, leaving her quite obscured through the peephole.

Threaded | Flat

for stiles

B

A