#necronomiconman

[riskybee]

               "Hm?" he looks him up and down. Wide surprise. Strudy up on top, this guy was maxed out on the upper body muscle scale. Had this young man been a bit younger and saner, he'd have asked the man about his workout routine. Alas, another time, another universe. Though he can feel the man's inquisitive gaze for a while. "Least take me out to dinner first if you're gonna undress me with those eyes of yours. Wanna shoot your shot? I'm down for the daddy types," winks.

@necronomiconman

[mindsdistance]

"--So you know Toni how, exactly? You two pen pals or something?" You didn't want to deal with this right now--you had a splitting headache and you tasted copper despite there being no blood anywhere in your mouth. You were certain. You checked. Twice.

"--Um,-"

Was this man for real?

"--Did you hit your head or something?"

Last you recalled, you'd met him around the same time as this mentioned Toni. During one of your shifts even. It had been mostly uneventful outside of the daily interruptions of cult rituals and portals being forced closed during your morning shift until they showed up. Three individuals, outside of town discussing the inner workings of MISSION. The very name invoked unpleasant feelings, turned your knuckles white from gripping so hard.

Their conversation of course piqued your interest so you couldn't help but peer into their brains, the usual blue strands forming, though the more you looked into them the more navy in hue they were, meaning those thoughts were slowly delving down into that of more dangerous thoughts, those that wished or wanted to do harm for others. The girl in question, a little older than yourself was an open book, the older gentleman next to them was as well. But the slightly taller man before you was another case entirely. One you had not dealt with before. His thoughts were visible, but broken in and out like a broken tv monitor. The strands attached to him various colors with a similar glitching effect, making static ring in your ears. You wondered what that was about.

"--You okay? I met you both and your friend Rodney earlier this afternoon."

[hattering]

"--I need something especially good this time. I was thinking...Neapolitan? Do you think you could have something made in a few days?" You snickered (mostly to yourself).

unprompted ask / @necronomiconman

Mister Marse already begins strongly with what Sophie can only interpret as a commentary on her quality. As a regular, she expected that the quality of the clothes, considering the ridiculousness of an idea and short, nay near impossible, turnaround time, was much more than "good," and would be more than "especially good." To him, he earns a cocked brow and her arms cross over her chest, index finger tapping on her upper arm.

"Neapolitian? I am familiar," she acknowledges curtly. "Time is certainly a question I could answer if you provide me further details, Mr. Marse." His snickering makes her head slightly tilt to the side, perplexed on the source of his humor.

'Oh, what a dangerous time. He has an idea.'

"What interested you in the styles inspired by Attolini and Caggiula, if I may ask?"

[cyanfloats]

             Click. His ear twitches at the sound, glancing over at the door. Watch the place while I'm. He can hear her words ringing in his subconscious. He furrows his eyebrows, holding his hands up, an aura engulfing the miscellaneous office supplies. His arrival had him tensed up, "State your name now!" at high speed, a lone cup of pens and pencils was thrown directly at the side of his head. 

@necronomiconman random starter