Prosaic
StarBoi
Skai@Mass City
Then Bo's not all that bad! He's helping get rid of the meta pests through alternative methods.
Marx
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Bio
Will I ever come back? Maybe! Probably not! Who knows!
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Glad to have you on board, friend.
There we go, post's up.
@Mass City
It may be impractical, but it makes Beau happy. And in the end, isn't finding happiness what really matters?
Harper's eyes trailed his charge as she left he table and made her way over to him, polishing off his drink and setting the glass on the table before she reached him. "Ruby, I know you well enough to know you're not done," he sighed as she took the seat by him and locked her arm with his, noting her attempt at pouting. After five years he had gotten used to most of what she threw at him, especially when she was doing her best to manipulate him. "My job is to make sure you don't run away and to retrieve you when I do," He went on, holding his tongue as the front she had been giving him came to a quick end.
A long blow of air spilled out from between his lips as he watched her remove the little device and earplugs. "If I wasn't so nice I'd smack that out of your hands or jaunt before you had the chance to turn it on," Harper said, turning to the bar and plopping his elbows onto the counter. "Try not to make my life hell for too long, would you?" Harper made no effort to look over at her, waiting for whatever it was that she was planning to do; his way of letting her get away with her double dealings.
"Sorry," she murmured.
"No. You're not." Harper flatly said, planting his hands over his ears.
The silent scream hit his ears first and hardest, a little side effect to having hyper sensitivity to sounds, smells, tastes, and so on. For a moment his composure was held, though that was only a moment. His body went wild trying to combat the wretched sensation blasting his ears, his extra eyelids shielding his eyes, trying to maintain a balance in pressure, his palatal valve sealing and preventing him from having to breath for the next few minutes as his mind tried its best to calm the rest of his body down. Cold sweats, mild convulsions, blood dripping out of his nostrils, Harper could only hope that he'd black out soon enough. The gods must have been looking down on him for moments later everything turned black and his head hit the table. Sweet release.
Harper came to with a note by his head. His eyelids retracted and his dreary gaze jumped from the counter to the table where Cedric and the pyro had been, it now empty.
"I'll be seeing you. Give my love to Ruby. With love Elijah Craig."
"Cunt," H rolled his eyes as he flicked the sheet off of the table before looking down to his arms where there was a dull throbbing pain matching the faint ringing that still lingered in his ears and deep in the recesses of his mind. Where the empty glass once was, there was only the base of the glass, it having shattered from its proximity to the high pitched sound, leaving a trail of glass embedded in his arm, right up to his shoulder. The skin had already tightly sealed around it, which meant that he'd have to tear them out so his arm could properly heal.
A quick trip to the bathroom as a long line of profanity later, Harper stepped out of the club, taking a moment to try to jaunt to the roof of the building across the street. When the only result was a spike of pain surging through his skull, he guessed that the sound had done a solid job scrambling his brain for the time being. Best bet was to just follow her trail. All things aside, he was a damn good bloodhound.
Just a note to everyone in the RP.
Beau has been in the city for all of a couple of days now. It's not that likely that he'd be known about by anyone outside of those who are government agents or affiliated with the government and there's a decent chance a good portion of them wouldn't be all that privy to his general location unless they were actively hunting him. Unless people have ties with people in the Michigan/Illinois area, he should be nothing more than an article in the news some five years ago to Los Angeles residents.
Harper falls in a pretty similar category, given his circumstances.
If there's any problem with the above though, by all means let me know.
Edit:
How I imagine Owlman's cards
Just cross your fingers for a really good role.
And picking a fight with Ohr when a roll doesn't go your way is always an option!
@zaga2575
Approved mate.
Your stats:
•Business Jargon - 13
•Charisma - 7
•Caffeine resistance - 20
•Office Pranking - 1
•Organization - 20
•Number of Workplace Violations - 15
•Self Loathing - 2
•Professionalism - 11
The rolls of the gods, tho.
Can't wait to see what you're cookin up.
Better be quick, you two. The clock is ticking.
And I'm sure Eli will take everything Harper had to say well.
"You must take me for a special brand of idiot if you think I'm not well aware of that," Harper said as his eyes caught the dark eyed dark haired mother fucker who looked intent on breaking up this little event even moreso than Harper himself. Harper did his best to listen to what the lunatic was saying, but it mostly came out as garbled gibberish wrapped up in an atrocious accent. For a moment he glanced to the man Ruby was meeting with, his expression clearly reading 'What did he say?' As the kid laid things out for him, he mouthed an 'Oh,' before returning his focus to the pyro, letting the boy who he now recognized as Cedric drone on.
"I'm afraid I'm not all that sure I can take that offer, Mr. Wessex." He glanced to Ruby, placing the blade tighter against his skin as he did, before returning his focus to the suave governmental boy. "You two have five minutes. Since you know who I am, you understand a bit of my track record. Neither you nor I want my past to become present now, do we?"
Harper dropped the knife on the table, spreading his fingers out and jaunted, disappearing as quickly as light could fill the empty space, reappearing by the pyro. "Time starts now," He said with a snap, "Tell the pyro he can buy his own fucking drink while he tries to think up more convincing threats." H paused only for a moment to take a quick whiff of the scent the pyro had. "Rotten meat. Delightful," he sighed, disappearing once more.
Harper dropped onto a stool at the bar, swiveling around to the bartender. "Vodka 'n Cranberry, hold the vodka. Wessex over there insisted to put it on his tab," He ordered, giving a point toward Wessex as he mentioned the tab. The drink came seconds later and Harper turned to patiently watch the two and count the seconds as they passed. He could only hope the oh-so-lovely pyro would leave him be, though judging from what he saw a minute prior, that was very unlikely to happen.
Harper always hated clubs.
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