John "Pyro" Allerdyce (
ex_outofcontrol435) wrote in
asgardmeridiem2013-05-20 03:02 pm
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Entry tags:
[open] if you don't shut your mouth, you're gonna feel the floor.
Who: John Allerdyce and, perhaps, you.
What: Crossing the line and getting his ass fired.
When:Night 267
Where: Baldr, either at the bar or wandering.
Rating: PG-13 for John's mouth and potential violence, will mark up if needed.
[They knew that he drank on shift. They knew that he mouthed off customers and occasionally even told them to get right the fuck out of the bar. But they were strapped for employees, so they held onto him.
Until he got extremely loaded on this particular evening and started - or attempted to start - a fistfight with his boss. The large, burly man had just enough colour to be angry, so he joined in gladly, and it got to the point where Pyro had to pull his knife. One long cut up his boss's bicep later, Pyro's ass was out on the street.
You can find him:
A) Standing in the open doorway of the small bar, hollering abuse at the owner/bouncer who just threw him out, his arms and face badly bruised and a slight list to his walk;
or
B) Wandering through Baldr with a fresh bottle in his hand, a steady stream of muttered annoyance trailing behind him. There may be shadows of bruising left, but they'll be hard to make out in the darkness.
It's hard being Pyro, damnit. So much manpain, so little time.]
What: Crossing the line and getting his ass fired.
When:Night 267
Where: Baldr, either at the bar or wandering.
Rating: PG-13 for John's mouth and potential violence, will mark up if needed.
[They knew that he drank on shift. They knew that he mouthed off customers and occasionally even told them to get right the fuck out of the bar. But they were strapped for employees, so they held onto him.
Until he got extremely loaded on this particular evening and started - or attempted to start - a fistfight with his boss. The large, burly man had just enough colour to be angry, so he joined in gladly, and it got to the point where Pyro had to pull his knife. One long cut up his boss's bicep later, Pyro's ass was out on the street.
You can find him:
A) Standing in the open doorway of the small bar, hollering abuse at the owner/bouncer who just threw him out, his arms and face badly bruised and a slight list to his walk;
or
B) Wandering through Baldr with a fresh bottle in his hand, a steady stream of muttered annoyance trailing behind him. There may be shadows of bruising left, but they'll be hard to make out in the darkness.
It's hard being Pyro, damnit. So much manpain, so little time.]
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[She literally has no idea whether to laugh or just stare in horror. So she ends doing a combination of both. The laughter rises in her throat but she manages to suppress it into a cough. She clears her throat and looks down on him.]
Smooth move.
[But it's with that bemused affection that she often displays.]
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And that fall made him notice something. His lighter is in its proper place, but in the other pocket, where he's taken to carrying the switchknife again...
He fumbles around in the pocket for a minute, then curses again.]
And my knife's gone.
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Sit down, drink that, sober up, and I'll go find your damn knife.
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The werewolf's probably got it. Dickhead.
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[He gestures around his head with his hands.] Tall, curly hair, total pussy. He'll either try to act tough or cry like a goddamn kitten.
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[She turns on her bracelet and wanders a bit away, looking on the ground to see if he didn't actually just drop it and not realize it in his state of intoxication.]
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[While she's gone, he hangs his head between his hands and breathes deeply, willing the nausea away.]
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[She's sure to edge that in before she walks away.]
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He's going to bring it to me.
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[He sighs, looking up at her.]
Thank you for getting my knife back, Oswin. Better?
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[Okay, much more than once. She can't hold her alcohol at all.]
Much better. How are you feeling?
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[That's another thanks. He doesn't do many at once - maybe one direct one a year.]
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[She gives him a soft grin.]
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Sit down, my neck hurts. I won't puke on your shoes, promise.
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Neck hurts, eh?
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[He shrugs his shoulders, shakes out his arms, moves his legs a little. Nope, no lingering aches or pains.
But it's starting to hit him that he's out of a job.]
Where else am I gonna make money like that? I'm not waiting tables.
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Come work in the lingerie shop. You have great taste.
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[she swings her legs on the bench.]
Just find another to work at?
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It's a shit job. Just gotta find something else with tips.
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[She grins up at him.]
I could teach you to make souffles and we'd open a shop.
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