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(( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Ven 12 Juil 2019 - 23:24
hunter & tiki And then they chucked me off a cliff but I'm still not dead ; They don't know where I am, I don't know where I am ; They said I'm an anarchist, not like the other kids. |
Running into the mist, your lungs are on fire and you lost track of time. In the sky, the moon is high and so are you. A mess is the proper word to describe you right now, foolish child playing once again with fire. You couldn’t resist to the temptation; the song of the siren was too strong for you to ignore. You had to lost yourself in the night, flirt with the adrenaline, allow it to possess your body. For you, it is your only salvation, your only hope of freedom in a world that keeps chucking you off a cliff to break you down. Your life was once again falling apart. The Satan’s Wheels were gone, once again you remain nothing but a pariah, nothing but a pathetic brat getting into dirty fights for survival. Plus, your encounter with Persephone was constantly playing in your head; you needed this violence, but you still don’t understand how strange it ended – with her in your arms. Quite an ironic end, it wasn’t your place, neither of you. Like you said, you, Tiki, are an outcast. You two are not living in the same world anymore. And you’re terribly jealous it is a poison in your veins. More alone than never, you’re running from some enraged dudes – not sure if it is the police or a bunch of random strangers you annoyed.
Firewhisky was your sole friend, and it might have become your lover too. You still have a bottle in your hand, where you should have a wand to defend yourself. Jumping, escalating, avoiding obstacles, you don’t know how long you’ve been doing that, a smile on your face like it was a innocent cat and mouse game. You act like you don’t care about the bruises and scars all over your arms and body, results of your reckless actions and desperate attempts to live. You laugh, stupid, mocking your own self – loving yourself isn’t your shit. Oh, you display pride, sure – it doesn’t mean you don’t hate your own being. A cruel joke, it is how you see your life.
Suddenly, whereas you started slowing down, and your opponents are catching up, you feel a hand on your arm. The latter drags you out of your track and your thoughts, forcing you to follow a stranger in a dark alley. “Who–“ You can’t speak, your breath is far gone and at this point you wouldn’t mind a tête-à-tête with Jack The Ripper.
When the stranger finally stops, you let escape a long sight. Too numb and lonely to threaten him, you smirk and joke. “Alright angel, you think you're Batman to try to save me like that?” You shake your head and show in the bottle in hands. “I don’t have any fucking money, but I have this.” Your other hand goes to your back, looking for your trusty butterfly knife. Just in case everything ends up in another disillusion.
Firewhisky was your sole friend, and it might have become your lover too. You still have a bottle in your hand, where you should have a wand to defend yourself. Jumping, escalating, avoiding obstacles, you don’t know how long you’ve been doing that, a smile on your face like it was a innocent cat and mouse game. You act like you don’t care about the bruises and scars all over your arms and body, results of your reckless actions and desperate attempts to live. You laugh, stupid, mocking your own self – loving yourself isn’t your shit. Oh, you display pride, sure – it doesn’t mean you don’t hate your own being. A cruel joke, it is how you see your life.
Suddenly, whereas you started slowing down, and your opponents are catching up, you feel a hand on your arm. The latter drags you out of your track and your thoughts, forcing you to follow a stranger in a dark alley. “Who–“ You can’t speak, your breath is far gone and at this point you wouldn’t mind a tête-à-tête with Jack The Ripper.
When the stranger finally stops, you let escape a long sight. Too numb and lonely to threaten him, you smirk and joke. “Alright angel, you think you're Batman to try to save me like that?” You shake your head and show in the bottle in hands. “I don’t have any fucking money, but I have this.” Your other hand goes to your back, looking for your trusty butterfly knife. Just in case everything ends up in another disillusion.
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@hunter huntzberger
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Mer 31 Juil 2019 - 18:48
What am I doing ? Absolutely no fucking clue. Wandering in the street like some kind of drunken hobo, hoping to shake off the one too many shots I drank tonight, half-smoking a cigarette because I don't remember how to. Why am I feeling like this ? I have a great life. I chose to walk away from my career. Why do I feel the need to take pity on myself and wallow in the streets of Inverness ? Sighing, I decide to head home, choosing to go by foot because I clearly had too much to apparate. I have just started walking when I hear footsteps coming my way, a guy running in my direction, probably chased by some other guys. I could just let him pass, watch the show. But no. Great knight, who probably took one or two lessons from the characters I portrayed on stage, I choose to help him. When the man arrives next to me, I quickly grab his arm and pull him in a tiny alley, running at full speed. I don't care if he can follow me or not, I'm just giving him a hand.
Turning right in a restaurant back alley, we come to a stop. The stranger sighs, and I do the same, feeling the adrenaline pump in my ears, spinning in my brain. It's been a while since I've done something like this. "Alright angel, you think you're Batman to try to save me like that?" Giving him a side glance, I frown at him, pulling my hair back. "What ?" Why is this guy calling me an angel ? More confused than ever, I watch him giving me the bottle in his hand. "I don’t have any fucking money, but I have this." Shruging, I take the firewhisky from his hand and put it at my mouth. The liquid burns my entire body and I know how much I'll regret this tomorrow, but I don't care. "I don't need your money." That's right, I have plenty. Listening for a moment, all I hear is the soft shivering of the street rats and my partner's heavy breathing. No sign of anyone chasing us. Smiling again, leaning towards him, I give him back his bottle. "What'd you do to those guys anyway ?"
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Dim 11 Aoû 2019 - 23:07
hunter & tiki And then they chucked me off a cliff but I'm still not dead ; They don't know where I am, I don't know where I am ; They said I'm an anarchist, not like the other kids. |
The stranger is in fact… Strange. He too doesn’t seem to understand why he helped you. It could be a rush of adrenaline or simply the will to be somebody’s hero, there’s no coherent explanation. You could think about it and start an inquiry but, Merlin, you’re too high to have so many questions popping in your brain. Your joke doesn’t lend either, when he serves you a side glance for calling him an angel. You laugh and to clear his confusion up you answer with a sigh: “The thing is, that I would prefer you to be an angel rather than a demon. I already sold my soul.” Well, maybe if an angel touches you, they would be damned in Hell with their fallen brothers. That’s how rotten the world seems to perceive you. Not that you try to deny it. It was easier this way. Being hated, nobody expects you to be better.
Directly under the light of the moon, you can detail your new partner of misfortune as he drinks some of your precious liquor. “Nice haircut.” You notice, catching your breath from the pursuit. You never saw him in these streets. You would remember, you’re certain. In the dark, your eyes glimpse as they slide on his figure. Yes, you would remember him, not only because you remain the kings of these filthy streets, this guy also has a je-ne-sais-quoi that make him interesting to look at. You shrug when he says he doesn’t want your money, like you didn’t just say you didn’t have some. You let the silence reign for an instant, to be sure you were alone. Smiling back at him, you take back the bottle and swallow a bit. To his question, you reply with another one: “You’re not from here, are you? Or you were gone for a really long time.” Every reasonable soul around here would know not interfere with you in the middle of the night. Everybody who tried is in a deep mess now. Like a black cat, you’re known to bring bad luck. The guys who were running after you had a taste of it, when you duped them into a scam. Giving a faint smile to the stranger, you decide to have some fun. “I’ve played them. Not like a flute, no. It was so easy, you won’t believe it! I’ve played them like the cheap kazoo they are. Poor guys. You know, sometimes, the ones chased are the bad guys.” Sticking out your chest, like there was something to be proud of, you stretch out a hand to let him to shake it if he wished. “Allow me to introduce myself: I’m a total bastard.” You take a step back and wink. “Well, sometimes I can be a little nice to unfortunate souls who helped me. So, I guess we’re good, for now. What’s your name my savior?”
Directly under the light of the moon, you can detail your new partner of misfortune as he drinks some of your precious liquor. “Nice haircut.” You notice, catching your breath from the pursuit. You never saw him in these streets. You would remember, you’re certain. In the dark, your eyes glimpse as they slide on his figure. Yes, you would remember him, not only because you remain the kings of these filthy streets, this guy also has a je-ne-sais-quoi that make him interesting to look at. You shrug when he says he doesn’t want your money, like you didn’t just say you didn’t have some. You let the silence reign for an instant, to be sure you were alone. Smiling back at him, you take back the bottle and swallow a bit. To his question, you reply with another one: “You’re not from here, are you? Or you were gone for a really long time.” Every reasonable soul around here would know not interfere with you in the middle of the night. Everybody who tried is in a deep mess now. Like a black cat, you’re known to bring bad luck. The guys who were running after you had a taste of it, when you duped them into a scam. Giving a faint smile to the stranger, you decide to have some fun. “I’ve played them. Not like a flute, no. It was so easy, you won’t believe it! I’ve played them like the cheap kazoo they are. Poor guys. You know, sometimes, the ones chased are the bad guys.” Sticking out your chest, like there was something to be proud of, you stretch out a hand to let him to shake it if he wished. “Allow me to introduce myself: I’m a total bastard.” You take a step back and wink. “Well, sometimes I can be a little nice to unfortunate souls who helped me. So, I guess we’re good, for now. What’s your name my savior?”
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@hunter huntzberger
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Jeu 29 Aoû 2019 - 21:39
The short run made my heart pump a little bit too fast for my taste. Only a few weeks since I've left professional dancing, and I can already feel it. My muscles loosing strenghts, my bones feeling empty. “Nice haircut.” Shrug of confidence, as if the compliment was ordinary. And somehow, it is. Like a Greek god who knows he is good looking, I almost feel bored when people point it to me. And yet, it should help me, in my state. But no. Dismissing the hair conversation, I try to make small talk. I could just leave this guy alone, but I need a distraction. "What'd you do to those guys anyway ?" His smile has a strange feeling around it, like he's the devil himself and I have just walked into his master plan. “You’re not from here, are you? Or you were gone for a really long time.” Choosing to play fair - my drunken mind doesn't really care about those kind of questions anyway - I answer. "Second one." I don't even remember how long it's been. Around four years, maybe. Life as a professional ballet dancer seems to pass quickly and very slowly at the same time.
“I’ve played them. Not like a flute, no. It was so easy, you won’t believe it! I’ve played them like the cheap kazoo they are. Poor guys. You know, sometimes, the ones chased are the bad guys.” He seems proud. I don't know why he should be proud of being a bad guy, but maybe life treated him badly and that's how he deals with it. The stranger gives me a hand, and I look at it a little bit too long. Should I shake it ? “Allow me to introduce myself: I’m a total bastard.” Well, no then. No hand for him. Too drunk to care, but not enough to not realize when someone is making fun of me. “Well, sometimes I can be a little nice to unfortunate souls who helped me. So, I guess we’re good, for now. What’s your name my savior?" Frowning slightly, I debate whether I should answer truthfully or not. Choosing the ruse, I lay back against the wall of the restaurant. "Well, what do you think my name should be ?" If the total bastard doesn't give me his name, why should he know mine ? I may be trying to be a good guy, but I'm not stupid. Still, curiosity killed the cat. "Have you ever played kazoo ? It's pretty fun." Side glance, bottle at my lips, big gulp.
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Lun 7 Oct 2019 - 0:22
hunter & tiki And then they chucked me off a cliff but I'm still not dead ; They don't know where I am, I don't know where I am ; They said I'm an anarchist, not like the other kids. |
The adrenaline is still pumping in your veins, making it feels like it was pure magic. You could just stretch your hand to blast a flame out of it like it was nothing or go knock on God’s door to show him the finger. It would teach him a lesson, not to let his angels fall in misery for they are born in the wrong cradle. You’re feeling good, way to good and this is a problem. Troubles always find you. But, when you’re in this state, you are the troubles. A big and devilish smile on your lips, you answer his question with enthusiasm and details, too drunk to hide your foolish pride in your mischiefs. The stranger makes you understand he was a long-gone soul from here and you give him a odd look. “Why on earth would you come back here?” A question more for yourself than him. Why the hell would someone willing come back here in all place? It is possible you know him, maybe you already had a drink together. It is possible for you are used to short-lived relationships like that. Letting it slide, you keep on your logorrhea about tonight’s adventure.
When you offer him to shake your hand, he doesn’t. Frowning, you shrug and take a step back. Is he wise enough to not touch the devil? At least, it is funny to watch him ogle on your opened hand like he did. He doesn’t give you his name neither, and you pout before reflecting on his potential designation. “Hairspray.” You nod. “Hairspray is good for now. I’ll change later, maybe, if I care.” It isn’t much but you do with what you have. “And it wasn’t a joke, people really designate me like that. Sometimes I don’t even know them, and they still call me that.” You depict that as a pleasantry, because all your life is one. You barely need to be an asshole anymore for people to judge you as one -your reputation is strong. Too strong. And you too weary to do anything about it. For now.
He gulps another mouthful of alcohol and asks you about playing kazoo. “Yeah…” You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, funnier than being chased around I guess.”
When you offer him to shake your hand, he doesn’t. Frowning, you shrug and take a step back. Is he wise enough to not touch the devil? At least, it is funny to watch him ogle on your opened hand like he did. He doesn’t give you his name neither, and you pout before reflecting on his potential designation. “Hairspray.” You nod. “Hairspray is good for now. I’ll change later, maybe, if I care.” It isn’t much but you do with what you have. “And it wasn’t a joke, people really designate me like that. Sometimes I don’t even know them, and they still call me that.” You depict that as a pleasantry, because all your life is one. You barely need to be an asshole anymore for people to judge you as one -your reputation is strong. Too strong. And you too weary to do anything about it. For now.
He gulps another mouthful of alcohol and asks you about playing kazoo. “Yeah…” You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, funnier than being chased around I guess.”
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
@hunter huntzberger
@hunter huntzberger
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- C'est méga court, déso, dis-moi si tu veux que je rajoute des trucs !
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Dim 20 Oct 2019 - 18:32
“Why on earth would you come back here?” With a shrug, Hunter dismisses the question. Not his fucking business. Aside from him, no one needs to know why he's there, in Inverness, after quitting a promising career. Even Niamh doesn't know the whole truth. And to be honest, the dancer doesn't really understand what he's doing here either. Not here, at this moment, although he doesn't quite grasp why he's talking to that evil guy. But here, in Scotland, in Inverness, in Hungcalf. Maybe that's why he got parachuted in this dark alley with a demon. The imp doesn't seem to care that Hunter refuses to answer his question, for he goes on and on about how a bastard he is. Not really impressed, but not bored either, he just stays and listen, drinking now and then.
“Hairspray. Hairspray is good for now. I’ll change later, maybe, if I care.” Shruging, both palms elevated towards the sky, the former star gives a little nod. "Perfect." And he doesn't even know how well it fits. His memories from the dressing rooms and his hands trying to tame those messy locks with tons of hairgel and hairspray are still very vivid, being only weeks ago. “And it wasn’t a joke, people really designate me like that. Sometimes I don’t even know them, and they still call me that.” Not trying to get involved with his own life, the American welcomes the new information with a pout, not really interested again. If the little bastard wants to think he's important, let him. "Have you ever played kazoo ? It's pretty fun." The little devil laughs, with this kind of awkwardness that means he doesn't really understand the question. That's not a big deal. “Yeah… Yeah it’s pretty fun, funnier being chased around I guess.” The dancer grins, nodding as if to agree. Being chased around can be fun, if the other guys are not trying to kill you. Handing the bottle to this dude, Hunter gauges him. His tongue passes against his upper lip, moistening it. Finally, with a ticking of his tongue, he decides he's still interested. "So what do you do ? You don't seem like a professionnal kazoo player." Or else they would've already met. "Or is it your job to be chased around ?"
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Sam 16 Nov 2019 - 18:11
hunter & tiki And then they chucked me off a cliff but I'm still not dead ; They don't know where I am, I don't know where I am ; They said I'm an anarchist, not like the other kids. |
The stranger seems to accept his new nickname easily, not that you would care otherwise. Hairspray is so perfect for him than you can’t accept any critics on your choice. As you speak, you notice the disinterest of the man for your words, too drunk to care about what you say but wise enough not to disturb you. He pouts, and you feel a smile coming on your face, trying to decide if you like his attitude or not. You let the benefice of the doubt to him as he saved you of stupid and ugly monkeys. That was a fun chase, but you could have lost if he wasn’t there. You keep on talking, to honest for your own good. And if you weren’t playing it as a joke, it would be a pity party. The brat trap in a life he doesn’t want anymore. The guy who becomes the devil because everyone expected him to do so. Ah, what a joke.
Suddenly, you’re talking about kazoo and he comes along. Your guardian angel offers you the bottle and you shallow more than you should in your state, shivering as the liquid burn your insides. It feels good, it feels real. It is what you desire. Your head gently hits the wall behind you, and you close your eyes. The world begins to dance, but you really feel seasick. His stare is on you, definitely trying to know if you are worthy of his time. “Like what you see?” You ask jokingly, without moving. You’re used to feel the gaze of people on you, more often for bad reasons than good ones. Finally, you open your eyes to look at him as he asks you a new question about your job. Oh, so you’re worth his attention? What a shock.
“Depends on who you are and what you’re looking for. The only limit is imagination.” And money, a demon’s best friend. Your answer is completed with a smirk and a hint of fire in your eyes. “Otherwise, you can find me in the Devil’s Snare.” You drink a little more, thinking about your boss and how he chose because you were the perfect wild card. “And you, Hairspray, tell me what you do in your life to run that fast ?”
Suddenly, you’re talking about kazoo and he comes along. Your guardian angel offers you the bottle and you shallow more than you should in your state, shivering as the liquid burn your insides. It feels good, it feels real. It is what you desire. Your head gently hits the wall behind you, and you close your eyes. The world begins to dance, but you really feel seasick. His stare is on you, definitely trying to know if you are worthy of his time. “Like what you see?” You ask jokingly, without moving. You’re used to feel the gaze of people on you, more often for bad reasons than good ones. Finally, you open your eyes to look at him as he asks you a new question about your job. Oh, so you’re worth his attention? What a shock.
“Depends on who you are and what you’re looking for. The only limit is imagination.” And money, a demon’s best friend. Your answer is completed with a smirk and a hint of fire in your eyes. “Otherwise, you can find me in the Devil’s Snare.” You drink a little more, thinking about your boss and how he chose because you were the perfect wild card. “And you, Hairspray, tell me what you do in your life to run that fast ?”
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
@hunter huntzberger
@hunter huntzberger
- Spoiler:
- Encore une fois, méga court, désolée !!
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Dim 24 Nov 2019 - 10:47
The dancer doesn't have anything left to do but drink alone with this weird dude, wondering how he got here and why he chooses to stay. Making small talk seems to be the best way to get to know a person, and at this moment, it appears more difficult than it ever has been for him. Hunter know his way under a person's skin, under a person's clothes even. But right now, not even knowing the bastard's name, the wizard is asking himself why he chose to stay, as well as asking the demon what his job is. "Depends on who you are and what you’re looking for. The only limit is imagination." And again, not a real answer. Sighing slightly, Hunter readies himself, preparing himself to leave. This guy doesn't really seem to want to chat.
"Otherwise, you can find me in the Devil’s Snare." Ah, finally, an information. Interested at last, the dancer falls back on the cobblestone street. "What's that, a pub ?" The boy didn't really strike him as a barman, but never judge a book by its cover, they said. The information finds itself a way into the dancer's brain, in a spot labeled places to go or to avoid, don't know yet.
Eventually, the demon chooses Hunter is worth asking questions to. "And you, Hairspray, tell me what you do in your life to run that fast ?" Not wanting to elude, too tired and drunk to be anything but honest, the dancer shrugs. "I'm a professionnal ballet dancer." There's some kind of pride in his voice, and there should be. Star dancer in the London Royal Ballet, then for the American Ballet Theatre, the wizard was choosen by the Bolchoï, before eventually choosing to quit. This reality strikes him as he takes another gulp of alcohol. "At least I was. Now, I don't know what I'm doing."
- Spoiler:
c'est aussi très court, désolée
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Jeu 5 Mar 2020 - 10:20
hunter & tiki And then they chucked me off a cliff but I'm still not dead ; They don't know where I am, I don't know where I am ; They said I'm an anarchist, not like the other kids. |
You can’t help but play a little, putting on a masquerade to mask your identity. Dominating your small talks and refusing to answer honestly at his questions, you are surprised Hairspray is still putting up with your bullshit. It comes to a shock to you that he hasn't yet tried to cut you off by pretexting some important business to attend, or any other kind of lie like this. Finally, and because deep down you like the attention and not being alone, you let some pieces of information cross your lips. The name of the Devil’s Snare is dropped, some name that still stings in your heart and soul. It is your home, yet it feels more and more soulless for you and you begin to have the desire to start something new. But you don’t have any resources for now and times are tough for your business, clients tend to freak out when aurors crash into your fav hideout. Argh, you don’t want to think about the future for now.
What’s that, a pub? You smirk. “Yeah and no. More like a speakeasy, a quiet place to come and have some good times y’know. Nothing too shady don’t worry. But because some clients don’t like being disturbed, you need a password.” As you speak, you nonchalantly shrug. “I can give you this week’s pass, for being too much of a good guy.” A hand lost into your hair, you crave a cigarette right now or anything that can burn and make your lungs decay.
Drinking what’s left of the bottle, you end up asking some question about the stranger. How does it come he runs so fast? When he responds, you have to stop yourself to laugh -not expecting that of an answer. “Wait, you’re being serious? Stop drinking immediately! You have to preserve your body.” You exclaim jokingly, lightly tapping on his shoulder in a friendly manner. You don’t grasp why you’re being joyful right now, something about being surprised made the alcohol in your body more vigorous. But you sense something is wrong with his last words. “Awn, poor dude, don’t tell me you’ve been kick out, I’m enough of a loser for us both!” Speaking of broken careers of ballet dancers, it sure reminds you of another story… Eyebrows frowned, your head tilts on the side. Your guts screaming at you to not try to connect theses stories -Hermès being the bitch she can be, you have another proposition for Hairspray. “Do you need any distraction? You don’t very seem fond of what you have in mind. It’s on the house, for tonight.”
What’s that, a pub? You smirk. “Yeah and no. More like a speakeasy, a quiet place to come and have some good times y’know. Nothing too shady don’t worry. But because some clients don’t like being disturbed, you need a password.” As you speak, you nonchalantly shrug. “I can give you this week’s pass, for being too much of a good guy.” A hand lost into your hair, you crave a cigarette right now or anything that can burn and make your lungs decay.
Drinking what’s left of the bottle, you end up asking some question about the stranger. How does it come he runs so fast? When he responds, you have to stop yourself to laugh -not expecting that of an answer. “Wait, you’re being serious? Stop drinking immediately! You have to preserve your body.” You exclaim jokingly, lightly tapping on his shoulder in a friendly manner. You don’t grasp why you’re being joyful right now, something about being surprised made the alcohol in your body more vigorous. But you sense something is wrong with his last words. “Awn, poor dude, don’t tell me you’ve been kick out, I’m enough of a loser for us both!” Speaking of broken careers of ballet dancers, it sure reminds you of another story… Eyebrows frowned, your head tilts on the side. Your guts screaming at you to not try to connect theses stories -Hermès being the bitch she can be, you have another proposition for Hairspray. “Do you need any distraction? You don’t very seem fond of what you have in mind. It’s on the house, for tonight.”
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@hunter huntzberger
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Re: (( terminé/hunter )) strangers in the night.
Dim 15 Mar 2020 - 10:50
As the demon child offers him the password for the Devil's Snare, Hunter nods his head. Even though the wizard assures him it's "nothing too shady", he doesn't really quite trust him. And why should he ? The guy litterally described him as an asshole. But Hunter is curious, as always, and to be quite honest, he craves the adrenaline. So he picks a pen inside his jacket (he always keeps one, in case a girl asks for his number) and starts to write the password given by the drug dealer.
When the conversation starts to turn around his case, howerver, the dancer doesn't play a part, and answers honestly. "I'm a professionnal ballet dancer. At least I was. Now, I don't know what I'm doing." Shrugging to keep the feelings away, Hunter is relieved that his found comrade chooses to laugh if off. "Wait, you’re being serious? Stop drinking immediately! You have to preserve your body." Pouting, the American man thinks that it doesn't really matter, as he's only a teacher now. "Awn, poor dude, don’t tell me you’ve been kick out, I’m enough of a loser for us both!" Waving his hand in the air as a way of dismissing the idea, Huntzberger shrugs. "Nah man, am just retired. You're the only loser here." A smirk on his face, the dancer watches the child's expression, maybe expecting him to get angry.
So, when the wizard offers him some drugs, Hunter feels quite disapointed. The tiredness washes over him and he's not really interested anymore. "No thanks. Raincheck though ? I'll come check your speakeasy." Getting up, he waves to his new friend and leaves, looking for the nearest chimney to go back to Niamh's place - he's obviously too drunk to disapparate.
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