Post by Leon Silverblood on Jun 2, 2009 13:49:03 GMT -5
*Slightly modified (7th post in this thread. wowza)*
Leon sits on a stool at the bar, a bottle of rum in one hand, a cigarette in the other. He looks around at the place and is, for all the right reasons, reminded of the movie "From Dusk till Dawn". He stands in front of the cage, remembering the zombie dancer they used to keep there, though she could more accurately have been described as a caged crackhead, by the way she eyed him. He had something she wanted. He knew what it was, too: brains. Leon smiles at this thought. How rarely any girl was ever really after that. Not that he had any, but still. "Women," he muttered quietly to himself.
Leon placed several first aid kits on the bar, brand new and raided from hospitals and drugstores. "Val! Quit starin at the newcomers, you'll burn a hole in 'em. Gimme a tab for what this is worth. I imagine you have quite the selection here, since every liquor store in the city is bone dry. Yeah I see that grin. Give me some really expensive rum, since it didn't cost you a thing. triple shot in a coke, please". He smiled broadly at the bartender.
The drink, presently appearing, wasn't a triple at all, probably not even a double, the bartender's response to Leon's attempted bluster. And it was cheap rum, too. Bastard. Leon grinned at the man, who grinned back and nodded. "Yes, I did," the burly ass seemed to say.
Turning and walking past the cage again, he headed for a table and was soon lost in thought, idly fingering the knotted nylon hair of a barbie doll that hung from the bandolier across his chest. There were five of them, dangling and dirty, some missing limbs, some bearing the partial burns or melting disfigurements incidental to a nomadic life, or nomadic undeath, in Malton. He may have grunt-mumbled a hello as he passed the lifers at a table, as those who aren't really talking to anyone will do when they must, but who can be sure he wasn't speaking to his synthetic girlfriends? Clearly, he had been one of the lucky(?) few to escape the Malton Lunatarium in the "early days of the outbreak," and now he divided his time almost evenly between trying to stay alive and trying to sow the seeds of his insanity, which of course implies many things. They're all true.
Leon almost falls out of his seat at the table across from Dan where he had come to rest. He doubles over with laughter, unable to speak or breathe for minutes on end after watching the exchange.
Leon placed several first aid kits on the bar, brand new and raided from hospitals and drugstores. "Val! Quit starin at the newcomers, you'll burn a hole in 'em. Gimme a tab for what this is worth. I imagine you have quite the selection here, since every liquor store in the city is bone dry. Yeah I see that grin. Give me some really expensive rum, since it didn't cost you a thing. triple shot in a coke, please". He smiled broadly at the bartender.
The drink, presently appearing, wasn't a triple at all, probably not even a double, the bartender's response to Leon's attempted bluster. And it was cheap rum, too. Bastard. Leon grinned at the man, who grinned back and nodded. "Yes, I did," the burly ass seemed to say.
Turning and walking past the cage again, he headed for a table and was soon lost in thought, idly fingering the knotted nylon hair of a barbie doll that hung from the bandolier across his chest. There were five of them, dangling and dirty, some missing limbs, some bearing the partial burns or melting disfigurements incidental to a nomadic life, or nomadic undeath, in Malton. He may have grunt-mumbled a hello as he passed the lifers at a table, as those who aren't really talking to anyone will do when they must, but who can be sure he wasn't speaking to his synthetic girlfriends? Clearly, he had been one of the lucky(?) few to escape the Malton Lunatarium in the "early days of the outbreak," and now he divided his time almost evenly between trying to stay alive and trying to sow the seeds of his insanity, which of course implies many things. They're all true.
Leon almost falls out of his seat at the table across from Dan where he had come to rest. He doubles over with laughter, unable to speak or breathe for minutes on end after watching the exchange.
