OPEN

[paterelohim]

Who: Chuck Shurley and YOU.
When: Friday-Sunday of the event
Where: all over the place! (and Purgatory)
Summary: Rule 63 is fun.
Warnings: TBD.

[Chuck is having a weird week- as is the rest of the city. After spending the first half of the week going through various and sundry traumatizing experiences, he- she decides to get out into the world and spend the weekend basically being irresponsible. Except at night, when she's in Purgatory, doing her new managerial duties and busily drinking on the job.

Friday is for lurking around various bars and restaurants, engaging in some healthy day drinking and wasting money on arcade games. She's pretty convinced that she's awesome at air hockey when she's drunk. Which is a lie.

On Saturday, she spends a lot of the day roaming around the Underground Mall vicinity aimlessly and eating weird bacon-based foods. She might also be sitting in a city square on the edge of a huge fountain, tongue sticking out in concentration as she busily paints what appears to be a... giant invisible dog.

Sunday has her in a park somewhere, playing an expensive-looking acoustic guitar- mostly Simon & Garfunkle, the Beatles, whatever she can remember without too many mistakes. Which isn't always successful. She's singing softly, too, trying to get used to her new, very unfamiliar voice.]


(ooc: A couple closed threads are posted below, but everything else is totally open!)

Comments

[matereloah]

[That doesn't even deserve a response, just the most withering look in all of humanity.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[That just slides r i g h t off him. He does, however, hand her the sawed off to prop the trunk up.]

[matereloah]

[She'll just be over here, propping the trunk up and ignoring u. Yes. Yes good.

And going through the crate contents somewhat neurotically, choosing things in no immediately discernable order and tossing them into the trunk just so- this amulet going near the front, this box nestled off to the left. Once in a while she murmurs some order to Erik to not pick up this thing, or to get that thing first.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[He just chuckles soft, working beside her. Not questioning how things are put inside, and he doesn't expect questions as to were he got all of this to begin with. More so since it's the last of the vehicles to be loaded up.]

[matereloah]

[It takes them a decent half an hour to get everything in- half an hour of placing things, of arranging, of suppressing winces when her sweater roughs over a deep scratch.

At the end, she places the last gun inside and looks at him expectantly.]

What about the last one? The amulet?

[magnetic_magpie]

Right here.

[The last crate had a large tool bag in it - all the various amulets, herbs - and never you mind where he got organic herbs for hellhound proofing, salt, bottles of holy water where in there, but tucked inside a pocket was a padded leather drawstring bag. He opened it and tipped the amulet inside out into his hand, holding it by the cord for Chuck's inspection.]

[matereloah]

[Chuck leans in closer to look at it, taking the amulet gently from Erik's hand and cupping it in hers. She inspects it from every side, but almost briefly; she seems more engrossed in the thing itself, holding it a little away and seeing how it falls when she makes a vee with her hands.]

That's perfect. Where did you get this?

[Even as she looks at him questioningly, her hand draws the amulet into a closed fist, quiet energy passing into it undetectable to anyone.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[He grins, all pride.]

You described it and I made it.

[He looks away.]

My family were jewelers Chuck. I've done this type of work before.

[matereloah]

[She nods with a fairly pleased sturgeon face.]

Nice.

[Another look at the amulet, and she goes to the open driver's door, leans in, and hangs it from the rearview mirror.]

There. It's perfect.

[She closes the door hard and beckons Erik over, lazily climbing onto the hood to chill.]

Which pretty much makes this Miller Time.

[magnetic_magpie]

Glad you approve.

[He snags one of the mechanic's stools, pumps it higher and sits, leaning with his back against the grill of the Impala.]

Hopefully you only mean Miller figuratively or I'm afraid I'll be honour bond to educate you in beer.

[matereloah]

[Chuck is already perched on top of the hood, backed up over halfway to the windshield. But just for that, she reaches down with her foot and nudges the back of his head obnoxiously.]

You know what- maybe I did mean literally.

[magnetic_magpie]

[He just lightly pins her foot with his head.]

You'd have to pay for the beer.

[matereloah]

[She makes a disgruntled noise and tries to pull her foot free, bracing her hands on the hood.]

No problem. I make the big bucks now.

[As manager. Yes.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[He keeps it for a moment, then lets go suddenly.]

Do you now?

[matereloah]

[SCREECH she falls flat on her back with a dignified thud.]

You know what, not cool. One of these days I might just snap.

[magnetic_magpie]

[He laughs, scooting and turning halfway to look over the hood at her, giving her the most innocent look ever. Except for that impish gleam in his eyes.]

Oh really now? At me?

[matereloah]

[As soon as she's up properly, Chuck spies that look and instinctively draws her legs closer, out of his reach. Ish. Never mind that, pay more attention to the sarcasm all over her face.]

Yeah. Maybe. I don't know, I think I could take you.

[magnetic_magpie]

[Oh come on. Don't you trust him?]

Doubt it.

[matereloah]

[NO.]

I can drink you right under the table. That means I'm awesome at fighting, too.

[magnetic_magpie]

[BUT WHY.

Also: laughing.]

No it doesn't.

[matereloah]

Didn't anyone tell you the rules of drunk?

[ d u h this is simple stuff]

[magnetic_magpie]

I think Europe has different rules.

[Utterly mock serious.]

[matereloah]

Well, if you count Imperial pints and gays on scooters.

[magnetic_magpie]

I'm more thinking those who brew beer which is a suitable replacement for food.

[matereloah]

[She shrugs and waves her hand dismissively, clearly rejecting the very idea of Europe.]

As great as that sounds, Europe is way the hell out there.