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Entry tags:
ASGARD; ic contact
"You've reached Jim. 'Fraid my hands are otherwise occupied. Leave a message."
text | video | audio | (action??)
"You've reached Jim. 'Fraid my hands are otherwise occupied. Leave a message."
text | video | audio | (action??)
private text
Where do you want to meet?
private text
Now now, I picked last time. Your call.
private text
Loki Welcome Hall. I'll meet you.
private text
I'll be by ASAP.
[aaaaand he's not lying, guess who's heading over immediately.]
action
His clothes are still as unassuming as his eyebrows, but the coat has changed to a jacket that is still bulky enough to hide more than enough knives on his person. There's not really anyone around, so he has no problem with approaching Moriarty, nodding toward the stairs.]
Come on up. Although I don't really come here often, so it's nothing special.
action
the change in coat is noted immediately and met with clear approval, the satisfied quirk of a (somewhat more assuming, perhaps) brow, but he's wasting no time in crossing to the stairs, leisurely pace keeping him close to Barty as he goes.]
Oh, I'm sure it'll be special enough.
[some eyes know to see more than what the decor has to offer. anything of yours will be delicious, dear, he's certain. wandering up the stairs doot doot doesn't mind if he does.]
no subject
If you keep your expectations low. I'm not even sure if I have furniture left at this point.
[He moves up the flight of stairs and then down the hall toward the room which number I never bothered looking up or anything and opens the door, glancing through before holding it for Jim like the gentleman he was raised as.
There really is only a bed and nothing else, apart from how one of the floorboards looks suspiciously loose. Huh.]
...someone stole my belongings from here.
no subject
... either really quite sad or really quite pathetic. which to settle on? both?? Jim casts an eye about, but there really isn't much for it to fall on. that floorboard goes duly noted, of course, being that there are more or less no other defining features Barty what even
but with that done, the vague look of "oh you poor thing" that had crept up onto his face slips away again he's strolling across empty space to perch himself down on the bed. this time when he looks up at Barty, his face is that of a man who's just told a really awful joke and is doing his best not to laugh at it.]
Cosy.
[there's the punchline aw good no we shouldn't laugh should we poor man no wonder you go around dressing in those drab things you haven't even got a wardrobe to call your own]
Careless of them. [of them] Anything important?
no subject
[The mock-pity makes him smile and he shakes his head, shoulders lifting slightly.]
I don't stay here these days. It's just a home away from home. [He walks into the room himself, suspiciously eyeing the floorboard. Huh indeed.] A largely empty home.
He stole my things and brought them to his place, so I didn't bother carrying them back again.
[It's a healthy relationship.]
no subject
You've got a lot to thank your nose for, you know. [all this attention you get, Barty!! gosh!! it's certainly not your fashion sense I mean it might be the glorious way you tick but the n o s e the nose surely gets some credit
it's as much of a are you going to tell me more of that story? as he'll bother with.
quickly though, with all the attention span of a gnat, his eyes flick back down to that floorboard. he didn't miss that suspicion boyo.]
Probably not an equal exchange, but maybe worth a look.
no subject
I stroke it in appreciation sometimes.
[He might have said more, but instead he just shrugs as Jim changes the subject and crouches down, that Bartemius Crouch, to pull at the floorboard and discover...
...socks. Neatly folded and colour coordinated no less.]
Ah. There they are.
[He gets up again, trying to gather the air of someone who hasn't just found his socks hidden under a floorboard.]
Let's stop looking before we find my underwear.
[Asgard's secrets no one wants to know Nr. 102: Barty Crouch jr goes commando.]
no subject
p.s whoever your boyfriend is, I like him.]
Trouble in paradise?
no subject
No, no. He's just underwhelmed by his enemies, so he does ...things when he gets bored. You shouldn't read into it. I don't.
[He decides to just leave the floorboard the way it is, because knowing the Master he'd be able to tell anyway, and walks over to the bed, sitting down next to Jim.]
What do you do against boredom?
no subject
[a pause to shrug, languid and flamboyant, and gesture vaguely around the otherwise empty room.] Here I am.
[Jim's boredom is a fickle thing. before his stunt back on the rooftop an entire universe away, it had sat like a thin film over everything he did. when he didn't do, or did without difficulty, the lack of stimulation would create a vacuum into which that sticky film would creep, a PVC suit for the inside of his mind, filling in crevices and restricting, choking.
here, it's been different. here is fresh and new and that's been enough, to begin with. starting from scratch has been a marvel. but it's been months now, months, and freedom begins to cloy and clog and paint film afresh— it'll dry eventually, he imagines, and when it does he's back to the grind.
so here he is.]
Shall we talk child abuse?
[ might as well give our game a name, and since that's what it comes down to...!! ]