(no subject)
Who: The Troublesome Four; Inspector Javert | chose_death, Gabriel | trickster_mk2, Naomi Hunter | scientize, and Greed | nestingdevil
What: The gathering of four very different individuals on a dinner "date." It's to discuss business and deal deeds, really.
Where: Starting Point ➥ Devil's Nest
When: Monday Evening.
Rating: Considering the very nature of these people, pushing R.
The bar was quiet, shut down early for the night. The sounds of happy patrons had left nearly an hour ago and the 'Nest was left hollowed out. The lights at the front had been shut off, the jukebox had been unplugged. All matter of booze had be pushed back into stock. Everything in its place, after all. The sign of good ownership.
Though the boss of the place was anything but. A sliver of absolute sin and abundance. He was busying himself upstairs in the last room at the end of a dark, light-less hall. His private collection of tunes was buzzing out of a crappy-looking radio clock that had probably been dragged out of the junk yard. Someone, somewhere, was streaming a feed of music that suited his needs.
It was a jazzy tune, akin to a life he had known back in Dublith. A sultry tone of a beautiful woman that promised everything under the sun with the purr of her voice. Greed shuddered the thought, kept it for himself. He slid his fingers through slicked-back spikes. He had recently showered, cleaned himself up nice and proper. After all, tonight was the night. The night all four of them would gather for who-knew-what, exactly. And Greed being greedy, he thought a good show of faith was in order.
He was dressed all in black, as usual. The leathers had been discarded to a closet, replaced with a pair of tight-forming slacks tied off with a black belt. Gold shirt hugged his chest and slipped behind the black-cut of a blazer. Greed thumbed ornate buttons - he had splurged a bit for himself this time around - and closed the suit up. He flashed his teeth at his reflection in the mirror and tapped his new cowboy boots against the wood paneled floor. They were tipped in silver, probably steel, and carved with serpents. It matched perfectly with the over-the-top skull that rested right between his legs, hooking his belt together.
Over all, he thought he looked the part. The part of a business man.
Greed smoothed his hands over the front of his suit and popped the collar. He formed a knot with a black tie, slid it through. Missed a few times, had to redo the whole thing more than once. But once he got the fabric to cooperate, he jerked the tie tight against his neck. He liked the feeling for a second, snarled with the jaw of a crocodile, then released. His fingers pulled down the collar, flattening it under the lapels of his blazer.
Ok, so maybe it wasn't his usual attire. But for a man who wanted it all, he definitely had the airs about him. The homunculus rolled his shoulders back, laughed, and grabbed a glass of of iced whiskey from a nearby lamp-table. Swallowed both ice and liquor back.
It was nearing that time. Greed padded over to his radio clock and thumbed a button. It blinked back a steady 10:45 in electric red. He placed his drink down on a window sill and laced his fingers behind his back. Gave his knuckles and shoulders a good crack before heading out into the main hall, leaving the sultry tones of the music behind him.
What: The gathering of four very different individuals on a dinner "date." It's to discuss business and deal deeds, really.
Where: Starting Point ➥ Devil's Nest
When: Monday Evening.
Rating: Considering the very nature of these people, pushing R.
The bar was quiet, shut down early for the night. The sounds of happy patrons had left nearly an hour ago and the 'Nest was left hollowed out. The lights at the front had been shut off, the jukebox had been unplugged. All matter of booze had be pushed back into stock. Everything in its place, after all. The sign of good ownership.
Though the boss of the place was anything but. A sliver of absolute sin and abundance. He was busying himself upstairs in the last room at the end of a dark, light-less hall. His private collection of tunes was buzzing out of a crappy-looking radio clock that had probably been dragged out of the junk yard. Someone, somewhere, was streaming a feed of music that suited his needs.
It was a jazzy tune, akin to a life he had known back in Dublith. A sultry tone of a beautiful woman that promised everything under the sun with the purr of her voice. Greed shuddered the thought, kept it for himself. He slid his fingers through slicked-back spikes. He had recently showered, cleaned himself up nice and proper. After all, tonight was the night. The night all four of them would gather for who-knew-what, exactly. And Greed being greedy, he thought a good show of faith was in order.
He was dressed all in black, as usual. The leathers had been discarded to a closet, replaced with a pair of tight-forming slacks tied off with a black belt. Gold shirt hugged his chest and slipped behind the black-cut of a blazer. Greed thumbed ornate buttons - he had splurged a bit for himself this time around - and closed the suit up. He flashed his teeth at his reflection in the mirror and tapped his new cowboy boots against the wood paneled floor. They were tipped in silver, probably steel, and carved with serpents. It matched perfectly with the over-the-top skull that rested right between his legs, hooking his belt together.
Over all, he thought he looked the part. The part of a business man.
Greed smoothed his hands over the front of his suit and popped the collar. He formed a knot with a black tie, slid it through. Missed a few times, had to redo the whole thing more than once. But once he got the fabric to cooperate, he jerked the tie tight against his neck. He liked the feeling for a second, snarled with the jaw of a crocodile, then released. His fingers pulled down the collar, flattening it under the lapels of his blazer.
Ok, so maybe it wasn't his usual attire. But for a man who wanted it all, he definitely had the airs about him. The homunculus rolled his shoulders back, laughed, and grabbed a glass of of iced whiskey from a nearby lamp-table. Swallowed both ice and liquor back.
It was nearing that time. Greed padded over to his radio clock and thumbed a button. It blinked back a steady 10:45 in electric red. He placed his drink down on a window sill and laced his fingers behind his back. Gave his knuckles and shoulders a good crack before heading out into the main hall, leaving the sultry tones of the music behind him.