George Milton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bindlestifflost) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
apocalypsehowcomm2022-04-22 01:46 am
bindlestifflost) wrote in apocalypsehowcomm2022-04-22 01:46 am
(Open Log) You gotta know when to hold 'em
Who: George Milton, Nick Valentine, and anybody who shows up
When: April 22, starting around 6 PM until
Where: Apartment A-3
Summary: A night for playing cards, drinking beer or b.y.o.b. if harder, snacks and unwinding. Feel free to thread jack and jump all around, at least in my threads. This is just for some relaxed down time and catching up or introductions in a smaller, casual space.
Warnings: None expected. If your characters get to discussing anything triggery or get up to anything spicy, please CW in your individual threads.
Over the past week or so, hand printed signs drawn in sharpie on plain paper have shown up taped to walls around the apartment complex and on any easily accessible bulletin boards at ADI. A couple of them were also delivered to the flophouse with the request they be displayed somewhere the residents might see them.
They read:
Cards and Beer
Friday April 22 6 PM
Apartment A 3
George and Nick's place
You want more than beer
or chips and popcorn
bring your own.
Extra decks appreciated.
The night of, the door to A 3 is propped open. In addition to the dining table, a couple of card tables and cheap folding chairs are set up for games. Two bowls on the coffee table contain chips and popcorn respectively. There's a cooler on the floor in the kitchen filled with ice and cheap beer.
George or Nick will greet people as they come in and tell them to make themselves at home.
((OOC: Feel free to top level with your own character and make whatever prompts you like. George is generally easy-going, but if he catches anyone stealing, getting too hot and heavy in a bedroom, or otherwise being a general jerk about the apartment or the other guests, he will try to throw the offender out. If you want that kind of thread or want to succeed at something nefarious, let me know so we can work it out.))
When: April 22, starting around 6 PM until
Where: Apartment A-3
Summary: A night for playing cards, drinking beer or b.y.o.b. if harder, snacks and unwinding. Feel free to thread jack and jump all around, at least in my threads. This is just for some relaxed down time and catching up or introductions in a smaller, casual space.
Warnings: None expected. If your characters get to discussing anything triggery or get up to anything spicy, please CW in your individual threads.
Over the past week or so, hand printed signs drawn in sharpie on plain paper have shown up taped to walls around the apartment complex and on any easily accessible bulletin boards at ADI. A couple of them were also delivered to the flophouse with the request they be displayed somewhere the residents might see them.
They read:
Friday April 22 6 PM
Apartment A 3
George and Nick's place
You want more than beer
or chips and popcorn
bring your own.
Extra decks appreciated.
The night of, the door to A 3 is propped open. In addition to the dining table, a couple of card tables and cheap folding chairs are set up for games. Two bowls on the coffee table contain chips and popcorn respectively. There's a cooler on the floor in the kitchen filled with ice and cheap beer.
George or Nick will greet people as they come in and tell them to make themselves at home.
((OOC: Feel free to top level with your own character and make whatever prompts you like. George is generally easy-going, but if he catches anyone stealing, getting too hot and heavy in a bedroom, or otherwise being a general jerk about the apartment or the other guests, he will try to throw the offender out. If you want that kind of thread or want to succeed at something nefarious, let me know so we can work it out.))
b
Why is it so complicated?
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'Cause you've gotta follow a specific order or it all won't come together right. Plenty of cocktails you can just toss together, but the bitters go in first to help melt the sugar a bit.
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[That seems like it would defeat the purpose of something sweet.]
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[He slides the bottle of bitters down the counter towards Winter, if he wants to read the label.
Not that they list all the ingredients, since they're typically a secret.]
And haven't you ever had something that's got contrasting flavors? Sweet and sour pork? Salted caramel? If you've got a good combination, it'll make both flavors stand out more.
[Crowley doesn't eat, typically, and doesn't care about food, but he does care about Aziraphale, who likes to talk about food, and Crowley usually listens.]
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[He's had pasta and sandwiches with various flavors, but none of them were sweet-with-bitter. His diet is fairly limited to what's served at the cafeteria, what's in the vending machines, and what his roommate chooses to cook for dinner. He still looks dubious, but he does take the bottle and examine it with a frown, bringing it to his nose for a sniff even.
He makes a face and sets it back down.]
Seems like ruining good sugar.
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[Crowley isn't much for sweet things, typically. Hasn't ever been, but sometimes the point of sugar is to accentuate other flavors rather than to just be sweet, or to soften another stronger flavor, like whiskey and bitters.]
Want to try one?
[He's always been curious and sometimes he forgets that other people aren't.]
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All right. If it isn't too much trouble.
[Martin told him he needed to start trying new things. He might as well try with something simple like a fancy booze. If all else fails, there's still some cocoa left, so he could always have some of that next.]
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[He sets the one he just finished aside and digs out a second glass so he can start mixing the drink for Winter.]
Fair warning, it's really just straight up alcohol, so take it slow if your tolerance is shite.
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[He thinks that's wrong. It feels wrong. He must have had alcohol at some point, the memory is just gone. If that's the case, though, it's been a damn long time.]
When my serum worked. It wouldn't matter. But now it does, so. I'll take it slow.
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[Everyone is failing this poor man, especially considering the few details Crowley has about his existence.
It looks like it's going to fall to him. Fortunately it doesn't take especially long to make an old fashioned, so he offers the second glass out in short order.]
Won't be an issue if you don't like it.
[He's not going to get like, offended or anything.]
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[Now he's trying new things. As much as he's not really fond of trying new things. He accepts the drink, gives it a mildly suspicious sniff, then has a sip. A small one.
... it's not great. Not terrible-- it's not citrus-- but it's not great, either. He considers it a moment, and has another, equally small sip.]
It burns, kind of.
cw: does it count as alcoholism if its a demon
[Crowley has a small handful of coping mechanisms and most of them aren't especially healthy, with alcohol sitting somewhere in the middle of the list. It's also one of the most accessible ones here, without his plants or the Bentley.
Logically, he knows that plenty of people don't drink, but he has a hard time wrapping his head around it when it's been so central to his existence on Earth.]
That'd be the alcohol part, this isn't the top shelf whiskey, I'm afraid. [Not having money is hard :( ] If you're not into it, we could try to scare up some ginger ale, that'll lessen the burn without making it taste rubbish.
I think it still counts :P
[Drinkable, but not necessarily pleasant. He sets the drink back down. He'd rather have his cocoa. Also, no ginger ale; he knows what that is and he's not really a fan.]
I don't like carbonation. I brought a drink, I can just have that.
[He slides the glass over a little. Crowley can have the rest of it, he wants.]
Thank you, though. I'm supposed to be trying new things.
😔
[It's about not being sober. How else was he supposed to get through the 14th century or the Spanish Inquisition.]
Fair on the carbonation, though. S'a bit weird when drinks have got bubbles in 'em.
[Bubbles weren't exactly a common thing in drinks for most of human history.
He's going to commit a small crime and just pour Winter's drink into his own glass. Things like Germs just don't occur to him, unfortunately.]
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What he is going to judge is the motive. His eyes narrow at little as he guesses:]
You want to be drunk.
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I mean, it's not the goal right now, I do actually like whiskey, but sometimes th'point of alcohol is for it to be alcohol.
[How can anyone expect him to be sober in this economy.]
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It doesn't bother you? Not being. Alert. Full faculties. In a place like this.
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You were a solider, weren't you. [It's not actually a question. He already knows the answer, which is why he continues after shrugging.] The whole full faculties thing isn't as big of a deal if you're shite at all that fighting nonsense.
[Drunk!Crowley vs sober!Crowley are both equally fucked if something or someone decides to hurt him.]
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[It's where his chosen name even comes from. Winter Soldier. He considers Crowley a moment, eyes on his right cheekbone.]
Do you want to know? Not how to fight. Unless you want that. But how to break a hold. Fall down without hurting yourself. Get one hit in so you can run. I can teach that. If you want.
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He does look sort of startled by the offer, if a bit amused at the same time.]
Eh, that's not exactly the issue. [There's a second of hesitation as he glances around, making sure no one is loitering nearby.] Imagine you've got yourself something like a lion, that knows perfectly well how to handle itself in a fight, and then you turn it into a caterpillar. No amount of practicing hitting things is going to turn it back into a lion.
[That was a weird metaphor.
But the point he's attempting to make is that the crux of his issue isn't entirely about skill or knowledge. He's been fighting since the beginning. But he's been fighting as a demon, either in that form or with those abilities, and learning how to throw a punch isn't going to give him back his power.
(If he were smarter, he might realize that it'd help regardless, but he's too hung up on the human thing to really consider it.)]
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I used to have superior strength, speed, and healing. I have had to learn to adapt, as well. How to use my body in new ways. So it still might help the caterpillar stay alive to work on it.
[If nothing else, it might help him learn how his new human body works. He shrugs, though.]
But only if you want to.
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Second of all: valid.]
That's not quite on the level of what I'm talking about, but I appreciate the offer.
[Does he? It's debatable, because these things are complicated and he's not used to needing help, or having it offered.
Time for a partial distraction, which starts with a gesture at Winter with his glass.]
What's your deal, then? You're not an alien, are you?
[That seems to be a bit of a theme.]
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[He curls the metal fingers in his pocket with a soft buzz of gears.]
I don't remember much. I've been told I used to be a person.
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I hate to be the bearer of bad news, mate, but I'm pretty sure you're still a person.
[He's got a metal arm and some obvious hang ups, but he's also clearly got like... feelings, and opinions, and that's about all that's needed to be A Person in Crowley's book.]
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I wasn't. If there was a person here before HYDRA, they scooped him out to put their own shit in. I'm. Still working on being one again.
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