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

[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.

[magnetic_magpie]

[He reaches over, flicking her foot.]

It's Canada. More European than American.

[matereloah]

[She backs up a few inches.]

This place hasn't talked to Europe since the Garfield Administration.

[magnetic_magpie]

[He snags a lace loop with his thumb, making a tutting sound.]

Are we really going to take timelines and connections to the wider planet? Because I have math and I can hut you with it.

[matereloah]

[She gives him a slightly odd look, raising an eyebrow. And of course, snark.]

Man, math's the reason I failed out of Starfleet. Do we have to?

[Pulling her foot away from him and scooting up the hood a good ten inches.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[Whaaaaaaaaaat?]

You brought it up.

[He just scoots up a bit, leaning on the hood more.]

[matereloah]

[Chuck resolves this by backing up to the windshield so she can rest her ass comfortably against some kind of incline, and sitting Indian-style.]

I'm sorry, but all statements must be submitted in writing.

[magnetic_magpie]

[Fine, powers work anyway. He can magnetize shoes to the car. Good luck moving those feet.]

I abolished paperwork on Genosha and as a foreign ruler you need to respect my customs.

[matereloah]

[Have a super duper unamused look as she wrenches her feet out of her shoes, then proceeds to take her socks off and throw them in his face.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[He catches them and throws them back, with nothing but a smirk.]

[matereloah]

-hey! [She deflects them miraculously then sends the forgotten shoes tumbling to the floor with her foot, because screw those things. The metal feels nice and cool under her bare feet. She gives Erik a questioning, judging-u look.]

Are we all done now?

[magnetic_magpie]

[He just chuckles, seating himself backwards on the stool so he can lean over the hood.]

Probably not.

[matereloah]

[Chuck slowly starts sliding down as well until she's reclined against the windshield - then sits up only to take down her bun, then lays back again, hair free. Idly she tugs the hoodie further up her shoulders.]

I can't believe you're giving her a Delorean.

[magnetic_magpie]

That was your suggestion. After thinking about it a while.

Not that I minded having something to really play with.

[He leans over, lightly resting his cheek on her shin.]

Not that this wasn't enjoyable - the amount of precision needed for the Impala, really getting to go tech happy in Sam's, working on making function and hardiness shine without being utilitarian on John's truck, but that Delorean is art.