(no subject)

[slippin]

WHO: Jimmy and company
WHEN: December
WHERE: Inn and out
WHAT: Catch-all (just closed starters for now but more are coming! this was a lie)
WARNINGS: NONE YET





[ Hit me up here to plot something specific (PM and disco also good if you wanna get really intense)! Otherwise you can expect more of Jimmy's stupid bullshit + Christmas festivities. ]

Comments

for marcos

[slippin]

[ It's snowing. Snowing again—packing snow, big fat flakes. That's what Jimmy's thinking about as he descends into the wine cellar, speeding through the mental math of chilly springs plus wine-induced warmth minus pinpricks of cold times however fast it's falling...then again, he reasons, hauling open the hefty wooden door, there might be a novelty factor. Snow coming down, watching the flakes melt as they hit the water.

The cellar's so big it's more of a cave. Jimmy skips the racks of wine closest to the entrance, feeling like an explorer on the hunt for dusty, expensive vintages, examining the labels tied to each bottle with loops of string. He's returning a bottle to its berth when, in a gust of cold air that seems to run right through him, his lantern goes out.

A pause. A sigh. Then, taking full advantage of the cellar's acoustics, Jimmy lets out a groan. ] Really? [ He has no reason to believe anyone can hear him, no reason to think entities of the spectral persuasion are involved—other than the fact that he can't go three feet without bumping into one—but it's a big empty room. A wine-lined abyss to yell into. ] Can't a guy drink something besides tea? [ He waits, even though it's stupid. Stands there in the dark listening for eerie laughter or death rattles, or, who knows, some dead snob who's gonna lecture him about his taste in wine.

Nothing.

It's not until he feels for a bottle that the rasp of metal, the sound of a lock wrenching shut, echoes through the room. ]

for lu

[slippin]

[ Subtle Jimmy is not. Even sans hi-vis suit and tie, he's not really in possession of a poker face—so depending on how observant she is and how much of a shit she gives, Lu might already be familiar with a wide array of expressions. Surprise. Bewilderment. Fear. Fearful bewilderment, as well as its pals creeping unease and slow-dawning dread.

But that's been in the halls, at meals. He hasn't gotten close enough to actually speak to her until today, standing at a window looking out over the garden. It's early, which means three cultists are scurrying around replenishing and rearranging seeds and nuts displaced during the night. Jimmy doesn't beckon her over—there are limits to his lack of subtlety—but he'll make room if she shows any interest.

He points at a complicated diamond pattern composed of rows of alternating bulbs. ] I think I've seen that before. [ A pause. ] Yeah, I definitely have socks like that.