Owen Vogel | The Penguin (umbrellagun) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-11-13 22:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | blossom, eric draven, katniss everdeen, robin |
Who: Group 2 (Ava, Jack, Luke, and Poppy) and the Penguin Pals
What: Busting a Drug Deal
Where: Property for Sale in Woodinville, 139th Ave NE
When: 1 AM on Sunday, November 14
Warnings: PG-13 style violence, mentions of criminal activity, gunfire, mentions of illegal drugs.
The hotel room in Jack Kersey's name was fairly small, without a single furnishing that could be considered luxury. Though there was nothing wrong with it per say, it held an eerie air. It was the sort of hotel room that could be written up in horror novels as the scene of a gruesome crime that would result in hauntings for decades to come. The bathtub had small chips in the sides, the ideal location for ghostly "blood" to ooze onto the floor and frighten good-looking blonde actresses with lulling careers. For some reason, the overhead light flickered every time someone passed beneath it. And the sink couldn't be turned on without emitting a low squeaking sound that was thankfully drowned out by the running water.
Sitting in one of the old chairs was a man dressed well above the class of the room that surrounded him. The chair was turned towards the window, back to the door, to allow him to stare intently at a small chickadee perched on a telephone wire that ran between his hotel window and the buildings on the other side of the street. As he stared, he puffed on a thick cigar that filled the small room with a thick, heady smoke. The smoke that hissed from his nostrils formed narrow streams that began to expand and curl through the air, rising to the ceiling only to disperse after the slow-moving collision.
After an indeterminate amount of time, the man straightened up in his seat. The chickadee was hopping from side to side, head canted towards the ground and then to the window he hid behind. With a foul smile, he pulled the cigar from his lips, dropping the ash into a provided tray as he reached into the breast of his jet black dinner jacket. The chickadee fluttered to the windowsill as he strode forward, reaching the window with a small bag of seed hefted in his palm. Opening the window just a crack, he spread the seed across the outside edge of the sill before closing the window again. He left the chickadee to devour her feast, taking another drag on his cigar as he strolled towards the door.
Before leaving, he paused in the bathroom, peering into the mirror critically. He smoothed a hand over his stomach, watching the brilliant white of his shirt disappear into his black trousers. Rebuttoning the jacket, he adjusted his black bow tie. Holding the cigar in his teeth, Owen Vogel gave his reflection an enormous grin.
"It's showtime."