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hopalongcharlie (hopalongcharlie) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Charlie smiled when he recognised the soul of a fellow fan of the more colourful end of language, it was always a pleasant surprise. "I might not be quite that bad, but like I said, Wednesdays are for paperwork, and then rewarding myself with a pint when I'm done!" It might not be he healthiest strategy around, but it was working for him. Plus having Rose help him with the money side of things was an advantage. "Yeah. I'm sure some people love it, but not me."

He listened carefully to what she was saying, nodding his understanding. "Okay, gotcha," he said, taking a deep breath and sighing it out again. "It's probably easier if I explain," he said. "I mean the pain I can deal with, I've got a couple already and even if it's more painful I doubt it's as bad as dragonfire burns," he said. Of that he was pretty confident. Also the bite, with the spreading poison had been excruciating.

He walked over to the low couch and sat down, adjusting his leg by hand so it was resting in front of him. "Owning the club isn't my first career. I was a dragon handler in Romania, and coming up on twelve months ago I fucked up a visiting Vipertooth bit me. They're really fucking venemous and I lost over half my leg to save my life," he said, pulling up the right leg of his jeans to display a few inches of his prosthetic, currently a bright blue with white spots. "I've been thinking of getting something on the stump to make it as interesting as the fake part. But there's scarring from healing it over and a bit of old burn scar from a few years back," he said, rubbing his thigh along the seam of his jeans.