13 April 2012 @ 12:50 am
4th Pocket  
[Action; 1125 Taylor Road]

[...Mion is just. Standing in her room. Staring down at her body. She slowly reaches up... and grabs her chest.]


What the fuck is this supposed to be?

[...that's not Mion at all. This is Diamonds Droog, and he's having the start of a long, long day.]


Hey, green-haired girl living with Slick - Mion, I guess? If you're in the body of grown human person with gray streaks in the hair above his ears... that's my body. Don't you do anything dumb with it.

[Action; Clothing Store]

[Sure is some girl arguing with the drone worker]

Whaddaya mean you don't sell suits fitted for girls? It's 'cause of these, ain't it?

[Droog is gesturing angrily at Mion's chest.]

Goddamn lousy stupid chest nubs.

[OoC: replies will be from [personal profile] nowthedaughterofmyboss]
29 February 2012 @ 05:48 pm
3rd Pocket  
[Action; Downtown; Afternoon]

[Sure is Droog in his Very Dapper Hat and a suit, smoking a cigarette as usual. The one thing out of the ordinary is the large, brown-paper wrapped parcel he's carrying, roughly the size of his torso - a little taller, a little thinner.

Oh, and he's smiling. It's a bit frightening.]

[Action; Outside 463 Stone Street; Evening]

[Anyone walking around the area will no doubt hear the brassy tones of what is unmistakably a mighty fine saxophone. Droog is sitting on the porch, jacket and hat off as he plays his new instrument. It's all slow jazzy things, like dark bars and shady deals, a casual walk away from the crime scene. Sometimes he goes to something faster, jazz and flash and hard liquor.

He doesn't seem to be paying attention to anyone else around]


Being a banker kind of takes all the fun out of casing a place. Not that money means anything in this dump...

My point is: any of you have any skill with musical instruments? And none of those new age punk things or electronic ear-piercers. Real instruments.

Barring that, who plays pool?
29 January 2012 @ 09:57 pm
2nd Pocket  

[The voice on the other end sounds rather faint at first, then louder, then faint again, as if they keep moving the phone closer and further away from their head - or vice versa]

Okay, now press the- not that, the other one, the... come on, you can shoot a cue, you can dial a phone, it's not that- look, nevermind, just set it here, I don't even care.

[There's a clunking noise, like the phone hit glass almost, and the volume steadies]

Slick, Deuce, what's up on your end? I'm in... a situation.

[Action A; 463 Stone Street]

[That sure is Droog's body sitting at the kitchen table. And that sure is Droog's head in a jar. And that sure is his face mashed up against one side of the glass in the most undignified manner as his hands clumsily jam the filter end of a lit cigarette against the other.

Unsurprisingly, it's not working. He knows it's not working. But he's still trying. Addiction is a powerful thing.]

[Action B; outside 463 Stone Street]

[You probably notice the headless body in a dapper suit wandering around like a chicken with its head cut off an idiot, waving its hands about likes it's trying to feel around for something. You probably next notice the head in a jar lying on its side on the lawn, the irritated face of a very angry mobster clearly visible and, the reason you noticed it, its voice clearly audible.]

No, to your left... other left, come on. Over here, come on, closer, closer... no, that's towards the house, I'm over- damnit, this should not be this much trouble.

[Action C; Grocery Store]

[It's while browsing the aisles, looking through the various labels and brands that suddenly you find yourself face to face with another person. Not because you reached the end of the aisle, but because there is a head in a jar just sitting on the shelf, glaring angrily at you.]

Yeah, what are you looking at?

[Action D; Some street on some hill or even slight incline]


[A string of curses doppler's past you, or perhaps it coming straight towards you, or whatever. The point is, it's headed downhill, and if you bother to look, you can clearly see some kind of jar rolling down the street and a man in a suit chasing frantically after it. Only the man doesn't have a head, and the cursing seems to be coming from the jar]


[Perhaps you could go stop the jar for him, since he's obviously having trouble catching up with it. Or perhaps you could do the wise thing and pretend you didn't see and go about your day.]
14 January 2012 @ 05:18 pm
1st Pocket  
[Action; 463 Stone Street]

[Droog's eyes shoot open and he's out of the bed the moment the alarms start blaring. The shit... this sure isn't the hideout or his apartment or any place he'd reasonably go to sleep in. Where is his hat... wait, no... WHERE IS HIS BODY!?

You now have one (1) confused gangster in the master bedroom. And for Droog, confused means violent.]

[Action; Around town while the alarms are going]

[Luckily, the 50s still know how to give someone a decent suit, even if this one is on the bare end of decent. In any case, now properly dressed and probably armed, DD is stalking around town on his own, looking casual as only a professional criminal can while everyone else is in chaos, wandering in the general direction of the alarms but also getting a decent look around.]

[Phone; around 9am]

Slick. Deuce. Boxcars. It's Droog.

[And that's all that really needs to be said IF YOU DON'T GET THAT, THIS CALL AIN'T FOR YOU, OKAY?]