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<Teller|GM> Dark Reprise snorts with amusement as Michael ducks past her. "That's fucked up. See you later, I guess. Hopefully."
<Teller|GM> Abby continues to walk angrily away from the warehouse, not turning around or waiting, leaving Jade and Michael to hurry after her. ||
<Mishie|Michael> Michael tries to think back to what's happened so far tonight and what could have set Abby off.
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<Mishie|Michael> Well, first there was him saying that she shouldn't drink so much, which is pretty goddam fair considering she had to do that mechanical shit before but what the shit does he know...  But then she seemed to calm down after talking to Molly and was chill after that.
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<Mishie|Michael> And he /knows/ that she was mad because he didn't stand behind her fucked up plan to just not turn that Slither chicks legs back on, but that was well, after she decided to goddam do it.
<Mishie|Michael> And the only thing that happened before that was Michael answering Slither's question about the bombs... and Abby saying that she was going to take the bombs out and then threatening to just turn her legs off and leave her behind.  So it looks like he double fucked up by ruining the plan of not telling her about the bombs and then Abby must not liked him
<Mishie|Michael> saying that he wouldn't let her blow Slither up.
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<Mishie|Michael> A small part of Michael couldn't help but be proud about the fact that he had somehow managed to fuck up so badly in less than an hour, but right now he really needed to do the exact opposite of all that shit.  Somehow.
<Mishie|Michael> Luckily, despite the fact that Abby is still angrily stomping off while Michael thinks, she's still only a short 12 year old girl so it's fairly simple for him to catch up with her so that they can talk.
<Teller|GM> ((12 year old girl with robot legs. But he can still keep up.))
<Mishie|Michael> "Fucking christ Abby, listen.  I know I changed the goddam plan without telling you and I know I started making promises about shit that involved you without getting your opinion on it.  But when I saw a chance to solve this clusterfuck with everybody happy?  I fucked up and decided to be selfish alright."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> ((Social roll, please.))
<Mishie|Michael> $roll 1d6-1 Social
<[ATM]> Mishie|Michael "Social" [6] -1 = 5
<Teller|GM> Abby continues walking, but not as quickly. Her gloved hands are balled into fists. "Fine, you fucked up, I heard you the first time!"
<Teller|GM> She finally turns to look at him, her expression angry. "I'm still not fucking fixing her legs!" ||
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<Mishie|Michael> "And I'm not going to force you to Abby.  All I'm trying to do is just understand why you don't want to fix them...  Like I thought the whole plan for tonight was to fix her legs so that she could join Whirlwind or whatever."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<-> soulpelt|nap is now known as soulpelt|
<Teller|GM> "YOU /CAN'T/ FORCE ME!" Abby screams at him, with all the volume that her twelve year old lungs - does she still have those? - can muster. The high pitched noise fills the night. "I DECIDE WHAT TO DO! I SAY SHE DOESN'T GET TO WALK, SO SHE DOESN'T GET TO WALK! THAT'S FINAL!"
<Teller|GM> Jade slaps Abby across the face.
<Teller|GM> It's not very hard, but the noise it makes somehow seems louder than all of Abby's screaming. Abby looks at the other girl, mouth still open but no words coming out.
<Teller|GM> "Stop," Jade says. ||
<-> FaustAndAbout is now known as Faustus
<Mishie|Michael> Huh.
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> $roll 1d6-1 AB
<[ATM]> Teller|GM "AB" [2] -1 = 1
<Teller|GM> $roll 1d6-1 JB
<[ATM]> Teller|GM "JB" [5] -1 = 4
<Teller|GM> Abby throws herself at Jade. Both girls tumble to the ground, Abby swinging wildly for Jade's face. Jade grabs her wrists and rolls her over, pinning her to the ground for a moment.
<Teller|GM> "Slither doesn't get to walk. You got your way. Stop screaming about it like a baby."
<Teller|GM> $roll 1d6+1 AA
<[ATM]> Teller|GM "AA" [5] +1 = 6
<Teller|GM> $roll 1d6 JG
<[ATM]> Teller|GM "JG" [3]  = 3
<Teller|GM> Abby brings one of leg up and knees Jade hard in the stomach, rolling the girl off of her. Jade growls, then uses one hand to hold her stomach and the other to push herself up into a sitting position. ||
<Teller|GM> ((*one leg up))
<Mishie|Michael> And this right here was what he was trying to fucking avoid.
<Mishie|Michael> For once in his goddam life, Michael had just wanted to sort shit out with words instead of his fists.  Because that's all he's good for isn't it?  Punching people in the goddam face.
<Mishie|Michael> Honestly, if he wasn't so determined to try to help Abby out, to stop her from making the same fuckups that he did, Michael would have just left the two of them to their catfight and gone back to awkwardly flirt with Dark Reprise at the party.
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<Mishie|Michael> And so despite the fact that he knows that it's a fucking terrible idea, Michael steps in between Jade and Abby and looks down at her.  Hoping that this last chance to stop things with words might actually work for once.
<Mishie|Michael> "Abby, I've done my best to treat you with fucking respect and like an equal, so I'm telling you this as a friend right now.  Chill the fuck out and stop being such a goddam selfish cunt and fucking talk to us."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> ((Social roll, please.))
<Mishie|Michael> ((I don't want to ;-;))
<Mishie|Michael> ((Why do you hurt me like this))
<Mishie|Michael> $roll 1d6-1 Social
<[ATM]> Mishie|Michael "Social" [2] -1 = 1
<-> FossilLord is now known as FL|GM
<Teller|GM> Abby throws her raises her hands to him, palms out, and...her gloves burst into flames. The fabric curls and falls away from her bronze hands as they burn.
<Teller|GM> Did she just try to flamethrower him? Abby beats out the fire as it moves to the sleeves of her shirt, leaving them black and singed. She stares at her hands, then looks up at Michael. He can't read her expression.
<Teller|GM> "Go away." ||
<-> Faustus is now known as FaustAndAbout
<Mishie|Michael> Whelp.
<Mishie|Michael> Time for plan B then.
<Mishie|Michael> Stepping forward, Michael decides to take advantage of the fact that he's both taller and stronger than her and so restrains her in the simplest way possible.  By picking her up.
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> ((Grapple roll, please.))
<-> Thaliaway is now known as Thalia
<Mishie|Michael> $roll 2h6+1 Grapple
<[ATM]> Mishie|Michael "Grapple" (3) [6] +1 = 7
<Teller|GM> $roll 1d6-1 AB
<[ATM]> Teller|GM "AB" [4] -1 = 3
<-> Thalia is now known as Thalia|May
<Teller|GM> He wraps his arms around Abby and lifts her off of the ground. She's heavier than girls her size normally are, but he succeeds without much trouble. Jade stands up to her feet and brushes herself off, looking at Abby out of the side of her eyes.
<Teller|GM> Abby squirms in his grasp, causing metal limbs to jab painfully into flesh. "Put me down, or I'll hurt you."
<Teller|GM> She sounds deadly serious. ||
<Teller|GM> ((Ed. note: *Abby raises her hands to him, -throws her))
<Mishie|Michael> "I will, but please Abby...  Just talk to us alright?  We're not here to fuck with you, we're here because we actually do give a shit about you alright?"
<Mishie|Michael> And with that, he puts her down.  And for the first time in over a decade, prays to god that things wont get worse.
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> Abby's fingers, he notes as he places her back on the ground, are fully sharpened. She glares at him. "I don't want to talk."
<Teller|GM> She flexes her fingers. The expression on her face suggests she's still very much pondering using them. "Just stop bothering me."
<Teller|GM> Jade shrugs. "That's fine with me." ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Then you guys down to head back to the party and finally relax?"
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "No," Abby says stubbornly. She shakes her head and starts walking away. "I'll see you later." ||
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<Mishie|Michael> This can only end well.
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<Mishie|Michael> On the one hand, Abby just murdered a guy a day ago and the PRT are probably searching for her.
<Mishie|Michael> Buuuut on the other hand they're all incompetent fucknuggets and Abby can be pretty fucking terrifying in a fight.
<Mishie|Michael> "Well, you've got my phone so just give somebody a call if you need anything alright?  And I'm pretty sure that the shitty lock on my door can't keep you out so just let yourself in whenever you want."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
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<Teller|GM> Abby leaves without answering. She steps over to the wall of a nearby warehouse and scales it, vanishing over the edge of its metal roof. Jade watches her leave, then looks up at Michael. "Want to go back to the party?" ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Yeah might as well at this point."
<Mishie|Michael> As Michael starts to walk back with Jade he looks down to her.
<Mishie|Michael> "Any chance I could bum a smoke?  Had to quit a while ago, but right now I just don't even care."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> Jade obliges, fishing the pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and then lighting one for him. She lights one for herself too, and takes a long draw as they walk back towards the party.
<Teller|GM> Michael makes out two figures in front of the building as they get closer. Brutal and Dark Reprise. He's holding her arm tightly, and she's yelling angrily and trying to push her way past him back inside. ||
<Mishie|Michael> Michael just looks down at Jade again and then back up at the arguing pair and takes a long draw of the cigarette in his hands, somehow feeling even deader on the inside than he was before.  On the bright side though...  Well, Michael actually can't think of a bright side to this clusterfuck yet but eventually one has to turn up right?
<Mishie|Michael> One he's done bitching to himself mentally, Michael walks up to them and stands beside Dark Reprise and stares at Brutal.
<Mishie|Michael> "So yeah, I just got back from dealing with Abby and all that fuckery.  The fuck did I miss this time?"
<Mishie|Michael> ||
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<-> Camtist is now known as Camtist|GM
<Teller|GM> "-thinks she can just walk in here and not get her ass kicked, she's got another think fucking coming-" Dark Reprise snarls, not pausing to breathe or acknowledge Michael.
<Teller|GM> "She's not in costume," Brutal says calmly.
<Teller|GM> "That /is/ her fucking costume, just because she fucking takes off her fucking domino mask doesn't mean she can-"
<Teller|GM> "She's just dancing," he says. "We're not having another cape fight at one of our parties. People will stop coming."
<Teller|GM> "She's /taunting/ me!"
<Teller|GM> "You're letting her!" he snaps. "Fuck, get ahold of yourself." ||
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<Mishie|Michael> What
<Mishie|Michael> So apparently some cape turned up and Dark Reprise wants to get rid of them?  Holy shit finally a problem that can be solved with violence.
<Mishie|Michael> "Hey so I've got no fucking clue who you're talking about, but if two totally normal people who aren't wearing masks or costumes got into a fight...  You could just kick them both out right?  No cape shit needed or anything."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "Or I can just fucking stab her to death," Dark Reprise snarls.
<Teller|GM> "Down girl," Brutal says. "I'd rather have nobody fight at all, but if Reprise is going to keep being stupid about this, fine."
<Teller|GM> He lets go of her arm. "Stay."
<Teller|GM> "Fuck you," Dark Reprise says, but stops trying to push past him.
<Teller|GM> "It's going to look pretty messed up if some guy in a leather jacket walks in and just starts wailing on a chick, though," Brutal says. ||
<Mishie|Michael> "I'll have you know that I'm a goddam expert at saying stupid shit to make people want to murder me.  Years of practice at it."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
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<Teller|GM> Brutal shrugs, muscled shoulders moving beneath the gray fabric of his costume. "I still say this is stupid, but sure. Go for it, then."
<Teller|GM> He moves to the door of the warehouse, gesturing with his head for Michael to follow. He scans the crowd, then points. "Her."
<Teller|GM> She's dancing near the outside of the party. Rather than jumping up and down like everyone else, her movement is best described as rhythmic grinding.
<Teller|GM> She has curly black hair and light brown skin. She's slight but athletic looking, possessing a toned stomach as well as muscled arms and legs. All of these are on display thanks to her outfit, a collection of clothing that leaves very little to the imagination. She wears a close fitting red crop top, and a pair of very short black shorts with the word
<Teller|GM> 'JUICY' across the rear. The most substantial piece of attire she has are her large black platform boots. ||
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<Mishie|Michael> Well on the bright side, at least Abby wouldn't have to see him do this...
<Mishie|Michael> Michael makes his way over to the drinks table and grabs the largest possible shitty plastic cup that he can find, and then fills it up with the strongest liquor on the table.  With his preparation complete, Michael makes his way over to Juicy Shorts and gets ready to be as douchy as possible.
<Mishie|Michael> "Sup"
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> She keeps dancing, eyes only briefly flickering over to look at him. "Sup." ||
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<Mishie|Michael> Michael put on the cockiest grin he possibly could and started to dance right up next to her like a jackass.
<Mishie|Michael> "You having fun here tonight?  Pretty cool party right?"
<Mishie|Michael> As Michael talks to her, he does his best to be as obnoxiously loud as possibly.  Which to be fair is probably pretty similar to how he normally talks considering how shit has gone for him lately.
<Mishie|Michael> |
<Mishie|Michael> |
<Teller|GM> "Yeah, was," she says. Takes a step away from him and keeps dancing. ||
<Mishie|Michael> With Stage 1 of 'Operation be a Huge Cunt' complete, Michael gets ready for Stage 2.
<-> FaustAndAbout is now known as FaustOfService
<Mishie|Michael> Michael moves back in next to her and keeps on dancing.
<Mishie|Michael> "Don't be like that, I'm sure I can keep shit fun"
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> She turns to look at him. "You ain't cute, boy. Go dance somewhere else." ||
<Mishie|Michael> Still keeping the douchy grin on his face, Michael let a single hint of what's going on show as he leans in nice and close to her so he could whisper without any of the other partiers nearby hearing him.
<Mishie|Michael> "Well in that case, your choices are somebody outside finally flips out and flies in to shank you to start a messy cape fight, or you can make a scene about me being a huge douche and kick me in the dick and we get thrown out without starting something bloodier."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> She grins a little at that. "She that mad, huh? Touchy." ||
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<Mishie|Michael> "Yeah no shit, so unless you want me to escalate the fuck out of this you should probably do something quick.  Because after the day I've had I've lost what little fucks that would normally stop me from slapping a hot girl on the arse and 'accidentally' pouring what I'm pretty sure is actually varnish on her tits."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
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<Teller|GM> "Well, when you put it like that...just remember, you asked for it," she warns, still grinning, before she brings her foot up between his legs.
<Teller|GM> ((Withstand roll, please.))
<Teller|GM> ((Guts, in your case.))
<Mishie|Michael> ((Can I choose to fail the roll?))
<Teller|GM> ((Yes. I still need a Guts roll, in that case.))
<Mishie|Michael> $roll 1d6 Guts
<[ATM]> Mishie|Michael "Guts" [2]  = 2
<Mishie|Michael> ((that'll do))
<Teller|GM> The booted foot connects, triggering an explosion of pain. It's an order of magnitude stronger than he expected, inhumanly so, and he's literally lifted off of the ground by the force of it. Three or four feet straight up into the air, then back down to land in a heap on the floor.
<Teller|GM> He's not sure he can move. The pain is radiating from his crotch and into his stomach, making it feel like he's going to throw up. He'd nearly have preferred to be shot again.
<Teller|GM> "Oh shiiiiit," a nearby guy comments helpfully. ||
<Mishie|Michael> There's only one thing that's going through Michael's mind to give him the strength to stay conscious right now.  Stage 3:  Ask Dark Reprise if she wants to kiss it better...
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> The throbbing music blends in with the throbbing pain. Unable to do much of anything except try not to pass out from the pain, he watches the girl clomping away from him. In the flashing lights, he thinks he sees Brutal flying past, then some guy and girl he doesn't know standing over him, kneeling down...
<Teller|GM> ...he never quite passes out, but everything's a blur of pain. He's moved off of the cement floor and away from the flashing lights and music, somewhere quiet and soft. It feels like forever, but it can't be more than a half hour later that the pain subsides enough for him to focus.
<Teller|GM> He's lying in the back of a parked car. His hand is cold - there's a half-melted bag of ice in it. He smells cigarettes - Jade sits in the open door near his feet, one leg in and one leg out, blowing clouds of smoke into the night.
<Teller|GM> One of Whirlwind's blackshirts sits in the driver's seat. The blond one. Eric. He takes a sip of beer and looks at Michael through the rearview mirror. "Ay, you're not dead." ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Coulda fucking fooled me.  I'm pretty goddam sure I flew from that kick."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "Yeah, man, you nearly hit the roof." An exaggeration, or he'd be dead. "Want something to take the edge off?"
<Teller|GM> He holds out his hand, a selection of colorful pills in his palm. ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Nah man, if I'm already fucking up so hard that I get kicked hard enough that I can taste my balls, I don't need to fuck myself up any harder y'know?"
<Mishie|Michael> Michael slowly pushes himself upright, and upon seeing the remains of the ice bag in his hands, decides that he obviously doesn't care at all about his dignity anymore and just shoves it right down his pants.
<Mishie|Michael> ||
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<Teller|GM> Moving hurts, as does shoving the ice into his pants at first, but the coolness eventually helps. Eric shrugs and puts the pills back into his pocket. "Hang in there. Want me to take you somewhere?" ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Nah I'm good for now, the fuck happened after my lil flight trip?"
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "She got into it with Reprise and Brutal outside," Eric says. "I guess she was a cape. They led her away from  warehouse so the party wasn't interrupted. Haven't heard from them since." ||
<-> Thalia|May is now known as Thalia
<Mishie|Michael> Well, Michael couldn't really say that he was /happy/ with how things had turned out, but at least he had technically done his job kind of?  Sure there was a fight but at least the party wasn't ruined.
<Mishie|Michael> Michael then looks over at Jade, who is apparently still sitting in silence as per usual.
<Mishie|Michael> "Well, at least you had something funny to watch."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "Not really," Jade says. Her tone offers no hint as to how he's supposed to take that comment. ||
<-> Div|Maiden is now known as Divock
<-> Camtist|GM is now known as Camtist
<-> Thalia is now known as Thaliaway
<Mishie|Michael> Michael just sinks back down into the car and spends a few minutes slowly dying on the inside.
<Mishie|Michael> "Well I might take you up on that offer for a lift soon man, but first there's some shit I need to do inside before I can go...  You guys just wait here or whatever."
<Mishie|Michael> Michael had been really tempted to ask for a hand to hobble around back to wherever the fuck he left Slither, but he was pretty sure that Eric didn't know about that shit, and that Jade would be way too short to actually do anything useful.
<Mishie|Michael> But as he slowly pushing his way back up to an upright position, Michael remembers where he had seen Eric before...  He had been at the beach on that night.
<Mishie|Michael> "Actually, any chance you could give me a shoulder to lean on man?  Might make this shit a bit faster."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "Sure you want to get up?" Eric says. "If there's something you need from inside, I can just grab it for you." ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Well if you want to be the one to try to deal with a drunk and crippled supervillain, help yourself.  But I did promise that I would go back to try to help her after all the shit that's gone down tonight, so it's the least I can do."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
- {Day changed to Friday, March 17, 2017}
<Teller|GM> Eric considers this, then takes a sip of his beer. "Nah."
<Teller|GM> "We should leave that to the capes, anyway. They'll be back soon, and supervillains are their department."
<Teller|GM> "Which one?" he asks curiously. ||
<Mishie|Michael> Michael just fucking stares at Eric in disbelief, not really sure what to say to that.
<Teller|GM> ((Which part is he staring in disbelief at?))
<Mishie|Michael> ((Leaving it to the capes, if only because Michael is pretty sure that Eric saw him turn into Horn Lord))
<-> FaustOfService is now known as FaustAndAbout
<Teller|GM> ((He didn't see Michael transform into Horn Lord, nor did he see him turn back.))
<Mishie|Michael> ((rip))
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<Mishie|Michael> "One that would make shit all sorts of complicated if somebody ran into her when she's drunk and she think everybody has ditched her.  Honestly at this point I'm just planning on dragging myself there and hoping for the best."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "Uh...dammit, I'm not just going to let some guy who got superkicked in the balls hobble around by himself," Eric says. He hops out the driver's seat and comes around to the back. "Come on."
<Teller|GM> ((Guts roll please, Mishie|Michael.))
<Mishie|Michael> $roll 1d6 Guts
<[ATM]> Mishie|Michael "Guts" [3]  = 3
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<Teller|GM> Holy motherfucking shit that hurts. Pain shoots through his groin as Eric helps him stand up, and Michael ends up leaning most of his weight on him. Jade remains behind in the car as the two of them make their way back to the warehouse. A trickle of melted ice water runs down his leg.
<Teller|GM> Rather than die trying to swing himself up through the loading dock door, Eric leads him over to a loading ramp door. The party is still going, but there are less people dancing and more people passed out on couches and floors.
<Teller|GM> "So, where is she?" Eric asks, yelling to be heard over the music. He looks a little nervous. ||
<Mishie|Michael> Michael tries to ignore the pain and remember where the fuck the surgery shit was done, Slither should be around there right?
<Mishie|Michael> "Last time I saw her she was over to the right, near the crates."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
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<Teller|GM> They walk - holy shit, he's never been less a fan of walking in his life - over to the crates. He knows that he has the right stack of crates because there's three small, bloody screws lying nearby, but there's no sign of Claire.
<Teller|GM> "Maybe she left?" Eric suggests. "Or do you think she's somewhere else in here?" ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Fffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck"
<Teller|GM> ((*no sign of Slither))
<Mishie|Michael> This is bad, this is reaaaaaal bad.  Slither could be anywhere doing anything and it's all his fault, fucking fuck fuuuuuck.
<Mishie|Michael> "Yeah maybe the crippled girl who can't walk just wandered off somewhere, fuck me this is just a fucking mess."
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<Mishie|Michael> And just to top it all off, he can't see any signs of a trail.  No blood, no booze, not even fucking scratches on the floor from her robolegs.
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "She's not here, so she has to be somewhere else," Eric reasons. "Maybe someone came to help her?"
<Teller|GM> "The other blackshirts..." he trails off as he glances over at Molly, who's currently making out with someone under the table and may or may not even be wearing a shirt at the moment. "Well, Donna and Ollie are around here somewhere. They wouldn't let someone just carry off a crippled girl." ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Yeah you're right, it just feels super fucking shitty to just hobble away from that kind of stuff y'know?  You up to just do a lap around this place or whatever?  Like maybe she crawled into a corner or something, fuck if I know at this point."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> "Isn't she a supervillain? Maybe she flew away. Or teleported," Eric suggests, turning his head left and right. He runs a hand through his hair.
<Teller|GM> "Look, fuck, I'll take a look around while you stay here, alright?" he says. "It'll go way faster. What's she look like?" ||
<Mishie|Michael> "From what I remember, white woman maybe a few years older than me, but like, doesn't really act it y'know?  Honestly if you just see metal legs or any other weird shit that would be her."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> Eric lowers Michael to the ground and gives a sloppy salute before heading into the darker parts of the warehouse. He waits for him to return, sitting in the exact same spot that Claire was when she couldn't walk. ||
<Mishie|Michael> Michael just sits there and pokes at the bloody screws, odds are those were the reason why that Slither chick couldn't walk any more.  All of this mess caused by something so small and tiny.
<-> FaustAndAbout is now known as Faustus
<Mishie|Michael> Pocketing the screws just so he at least has /something/ to pass on to her if Slither isn't dead or whatever, Michael just sits and thinks about how he was totally right about the party.  Everything that could have gone wrong totally did, on the bright side though, if anybody walked past him, thanks to the ice in the pants it would look pretty hilarious.
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> Eric returns after several long minutes, shaking his head. "Sorry, man. No girl with metal legs around."
<Teller|GM> He scratches the back of his head. "Maybe I should get you back to your place. Or wherever. I can let Brutal and Reprise know you were looking for her." ||
<Mishie|Michael> Michael just nods along, honestly just too tired and in pain to do any more.
<-- Divock (Divock@net-3sossb.al.comcast.net) has quit (Quit: http://www.kiwiirc.com/ - A hand crafted IRC client)
<Mishie|Michael> "Yeah thanks for trying though man, really appreciate it."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<Teller|GM> Jade's waiting by the car when they get back. Lying on top of it, actually, and staring up at her lighter against a backdrop of the starless sky. The car radio is playing something quiet and instrumental in the background.
<Teller|GM> "Hah, what the hell are you doing?" Eric laughs.
<Teller|GM> "Nothing," she says, flipping the lid of the lighter shut with a click and sliding down off the car roof. "Just waiting."
<Teller|GM> She doesn't comment on the absence of Slither. ||
<Mishie|Michael> "Seems legit, glad you enjoyed the night or whatever."
<Mishie|Michael> "Seems legit, glad you enjoyed the night or whatever though."*
<Mishie|Michael> Michael somehow hops into the car and gets himself comfortable, and then turns to look at Eric.
<Mishie|Michael> "If you're still good for that lift, just drop us at White Knuckle Apartments."
<Mishie|Michael> ||
<-> Faustus is now known as FaustAsleep
<Teller|GM> "Sure man," Eric says. As he starts the car, Michael can only hope the elevator at his apartment is working. ||
<Teller|GM> ||||