[Victor sounds a bit nervous about putting out an open channel. He's still covered in dirt and you can see his shovel lent against a tree in the distance
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Forward-dated to the day before the final mob-showdown.imjustprettySeptember 21 2010, 19:21:52 UTC
[Stan's not running anywhere in particular, other than away from Harry. He tears down a side-street, surprisingly quick and steady on his feet for a man with as high an alcohol level in his blood, and dodges several townspeople before he comes to a stumbling halt at a T-crossing. He looks left, then right, a bit frantic. Now what?]
[When he finally sets off again, he's going neither left nor right. Instead, he jumps/scrambles across the shallow ditch that separates the transverse street from the town's graveyard. He knows the graveyard well; it's a good place to hang out and drink if you don't want to be disturbed. He's reaching into his coat as he goes, fishing for the bottles of moonshine. There should be somewhere in the graveyard where he'll be able to ditch those.]
((Hi! Hope it's alright I'm randomly spamming your journal. I think Stan's going to drop the bottles in the next tag and is then going to slink off and hide in a crypt. Victor can come across Harry snooping around, and they could find the bottles together, maybe? Oh
( ... )
[Harry comes sprinting down the side street after Stan, startling the same townspeople Stan dodged. They shake their heads as he passes. It's just Officer Besmertni again. Poor man needs to settle down, have four or five kids to take up that energy.]
[He reaches the crossing just in time to catch a glimpse of Stan disappearing among the trees and tombstones.]
Kowalski!
[He jumps the ditch, still running full-sprint. He's had it with this day, this week, this month, this year, Christ, the past two decades. Chief doesn't want him getting involved with the carnies, 'specially with O'Brien's girl shot, says he knows Harry'd just make it worse. Pick a fight. Says he doesn't have the people sense God gave a crocodile.]
[If he can't do anything else today, he's going to collar Stan.]
[Stan weaves through the tombstones and then slips behind a tree, pressing his back up against it and digging for the moonshine bottles. One, two, three, four--there should be a fifth. Should he keep it? One can't hurt, can it?]
[He drops the four flasks on the mossy graveyard ground, and then jumps as he hears Harry yell his name. Goddammit, that crazy cop. Better not risk it. Stan pulls the fifth bottle from his coat as well and leaves it with the others, then sets off towards the oldest, mossiest and most run-down part of the graveyard. There are a few crypts down there. If he's lucky, he'll find an unlocked one to hide in.]
Next tag to Victor, if'n you want. If not, I'll just handwave Harry deciding to get snockered.some_go_madSeptember 23 2010, 00:53:23 UTC
[Harry stands a good twelve feet into the graveyard, angry, intent, listening-dammit, Kowalski, you're a drunk, you shouldn't be that light on your feet, where the devil could you've-]
[The fifth flask clinks against the others as Stan sets it down, a tiny, sharp sound. Harry's head whips around, towards the sound, and he's off, darting between the tombstones-he almost comes up against one, in his hurry, and slaps a hand down on top of it, vaulting over instead of running 'round.]
[As he tears around the tree, he catches his foot on a root, and plants face-first into the ground. He lands on one of the flasks, crushing it under his hip as he rolls to one side to get to his feet.]
[The glass jabs up into his side, stabbing through his worn police jacket, and he hisses and jumps to his feet.]
Jesus, Mary, Mother of-
[The stink of moonshine's everywhere-and the stuff, by the feel of it, is in the bloody slices in his side. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus
( ... )
Comments 69
[When he finally sets off again, he's going neither left nor right. Instead, he jumps/scrambles across the shallow ditch that separates the transverse street from the town's graveyard. He knows the graveyard well; it's a good place to hang out and drink if you don't want to be disturbed. He's reaching into his coat as he goes, fishing for the bottles of moonshine. There should be somewhere in the graveyard where he'll be able to ditch those.]
((Hi! Hope it's alright I'm randomly spamming your journal. I think Stan's going to drop the bottles in the next tag and is then going to slink off and hide in a crypt. Victor can come across Harry snooping around, and they could find the bottles together, maybe? Oh ( ... )
Reply
[He reaches the crossing just in time to catch a glimpse of Stan disappearing among the trees and tombstones.]
Kowalski!
[He jumps the ditch, still running full-sprint. He's had it with this day, this week, this month, this year, Christ, the past two decades. Chief doesn't want him getting involved with the carnies, 'specially with O'Brien's girl shot, says he knows Harry'd just make it worse. Pick a fight. Says he doesn't have the people sense God gave a crocodile.]
[If he can't do anything else today, he's going to collar Stan.]
Reply
[He drops the four flasks on the mossy graveyard ground, and then jumps as he hears Harry yell his name. Goddammit, that crazy cop. Better not risk it. Stan pulls the fifth bottle from his coat as well and leaves it with the others, then sets off towards the oldest, mossiest and most run-down part of the graveyard. There are a few crypts down there. If he's lucky, he'll find an unlocked one to hide in.]
Reply
[The fifth flask clinks against the others as Stan sets it down, a tiny, sharp sound. Harry's head whips around, towards the sound, and he's off, darting between the tombstones-he almost comes up against one, in his hurry, and slaps a hand down on top of it, vaulting over instead of running 'round.]
[As he tears around the tree, he catches his foot on a root, and plants face-first into the ground. He lands on one of the flasks, crushing it under his hip as he rolls to one side to get to his feet.]
[The glass jabs up into his side, stabbing through his worn police jacket, and he hisses and jumps to his feet.]
Jesus, Mary, Mother of-
[The stink of moonshine's everywhere-and the stuff, by the feel of it, is in the bloody slices in his side. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus ( ... )
Reply
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