Repose

Who: Damian and Leena
What: Leavin' on a Jet plane
Where: New Jersey
When: Current, after this
Rating: Two bat Shadow babies are in New Jersey, are they going to stay out of trouble?

( All my bags are packed )

Is there anywhere that delivers out to the carnival?

[public]

would anyone be in favor of entertainment a little more salubrious than music & art and a little less soul-baring in nature? celebration of summer, albeit a little late, with barbeque and music, perhaps a less-than-hostile takeover of the green?

Who: Misha and Billy
What: Visiting Hours
Where: The Quiet Home
When: A two-hour block of time @ nowish
Warnings/Rating: Who knows!

The Quiet Home was real quiet. It didn't matter that it was visiting time, because most folks hidden away in Repose's forest, they didn't have much folk keen to visit. So, despite it being afternoon and visiting time, there wasn't a whole lot of life in the big old visiting room. Patients were sitting 'round in various states of messy, drooling on chess pieces and rocking in chairs that had seen more years than some family bibles. But it was a quiet sort of afternoon.

Misha was sitting near the door, legs crossed and on a faded red seat. He was quiet too, but not like the folks 'round him. He'd cheeked his pills that morning, which he did most every morning, and he was on good behavior just so no one got wise. He didn't get to go working for hours yet, and he was hoping Billy would show, because he could do with some entertaining.

He was dressed in drawstring pants, with the drawstring pulled clear off, and his shirt was white and thin. His black eye was turning to yellow, and he looked like every other patient in the room. Even his damn sneakers, discarded a few feet away, were lacking laces. Now, Misha wasn't a suicide risk, and he was allowed real clothes, but not at group visiting times. Wouldn't do for someone to get a hold of his shoelaces and string themselves up in the middle of visiting. It meant the tall, willowy boy didn't look real pretty, but at least his nails were a fine shade of Knackered. Feet and hands, seeing as he wasn't wearing shoes. The soles of his feet were filthy from the old floors, but he reckoned noticing that might make someone wise to how lucid he was. Now, it would be true to say he wasn't having the most lucid of days, but he wasn't bad-off like he got sometimes. And it wouldn't do to have folks think he was anything but a model nutjob.

[The day after this, shipped directly to the bar, addressed to Artemis Scarlet.

It comes with no note inside. All things considered, to most anyone it would appear to be a mis-shipped box.]