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And they say drinking never solves anything. for alfred
"There are a great many variables in that logic," Alfred muses, his own cup of tea warm and still steaming in front of him. He hasn't taken a sip yet, wanting to avoid burning his tongue. Besides, Marty seems to need conversation just as much as she needs the drink. "What is on your mind? And don't say nothing because something is clearly eating away at you."
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✞ · @herslaughter : / &. / continued from here.
“oh, well. that’s exhausting. i’m sorry,” for several seconds, helena sounds genuine in her response, but then — “sounds like a skill issue on your part, boo.”
@herslaughter// starter call
Marc feels her long before he sees her. It's something akin to Spiderman's spidey-sensess the way the skin on the back of his neck crawls at the feeling of something (or someone) dangerous being nearby. Black and silver cape flutters softly in the wind as he turns to face the source of the feeling. With the way his neck practically vibrates in alarm he's expecting to be facing something big and bloody. He doesn't anticipate her.
In the back of his mind, Khonshu stirs, offering a warning of his own. There's something special about her, something or someone simmering beneath the service... "Who are you?"
❛ Wow, you talk. I thought you were just a background extra. ❜ for arlo
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, — ❛ Shite! ❜ — all but sure he was alone ... except for, well, his lingering companions. His face flushed hot, sudden embarrassment crashing over him as he processed the fact that he had been caught speaking to those who were, to most people, not there. ❛ You'll give someone a heart attack! Creepin' around like that. ❜ Arlo called back with a deflective wave of his arm, hoping the sensitive details of his odd one-sided conversation had gone unheard.
“i think someone’s listening.”
answered! <3
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✶ ⁺ ☽ ₊ ◑ · @herslaughter .✦ ݁˖ / &. / “i think someone’s listening.”
“mon dieu,” aurora lights up — only literally, not otherwise, because it is terrifyingly dim out here and marty had to bless her with the bad news on top of that. “what makes you say that?”
@herslaughter / starter call.
" aw, sonuvabitch, " grouses, desperation cloistering the rumbling edge of his tone a timbre higher. dean is slack, legs splayed akimbo, torso only just hoisted up by the pockmarked bridge pebbling into the leather cloaking his sagging shoulder. denim rends open over a black-oozed wound at his thigh. dark red mats the fabric. his knuckles, too, slake with crimson, shuddering the shells together in his palm as he shucks open the shot gun barrel. slicked in, grip unsteady, dean huddles the weapon back to his chest & holds the nozzle high. " it's been one hell of a tuesday & i ain't about to go under to another ancient freak. "
@herslaughter // from here
The cursed, shapeshifting man can't help but emit an amused cackle as Marty comments on how "her" ass looks great in a specific pair of jeans. With no one immediately nearby to overhear the slip, Patchwork Jack lets his accent bleed through as he replies, "right? I might need to get myself a pair of these. Sorry I am judgin' you for choosin' fish out of all things. You allergic to a good burger or somethin'?"
