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[youngtimer]

NeverAcorned - Standard UN || HoratioV - Fog/Lighthouse UN || 5ofDiamonds - Casino Business || Odyssean - Anonymous/Sock UN

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, NEVERACORNED. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 208.52.15.25 *** NEVERACORNED has joined 208.52.15.25 <NEVERACORNED> This is the private channel for Horatio Hargreeves. Leave me a message and I'll reply as soon as I can. If this is related to the Lucky 38, please start your message with a '38' so I can prioritize. <NEVERACORNED> Spammers will be banned, IP tracked, and have their index fingers broken. Have a nice day. :)

Comments

[youngtimer]

[he can't help but laugh at the response: he's never seen a harpy react to extreme things before, okay, and it's funny. like those NatGeo photographs of pissed off birds]

I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. It's just - [he makes a little 'floof' gesture near his neck with his hands] - wasn't expecting that.

And yeah, I am. Back home, I had the ability to time-travel. I can give you the Cliff Notes explanation or the long one.

[the waiter shows up at that point, and he orders himself a large black coffee to start, figuring they'll need some time before they actually order lunch]

[isawallflower]

[ Riley's face remains fully red, especially when Horatio laughs. ]

It- it's just a- bird thing. [ She mumbles it, under her breath as the waiter comes along. Oh dear. She gets herself some tea. Riley and coffee don't really mix well. ]

You— I'm- how's time travel make you...that old, but you- you look, so— young!

[youngtimer]

It's neat. Please don't be embarrassed about it.

[when she makes the inevitable comment about his appearance, he chuckles, leaning back in his chair]

It's because when I tried to travel back to the time I left, I messed up the equation that made it possible. My consciousness came back through in one piece, but my body reverted to the age I was when I first moved through my timeline. Think of it like coming back home from a trip and only having your baby clothes to wear, only ... it's your whole self.

[isawallflower]

[ To go back and everything... All of it being like when she was even younger...

Riley shivers. ]

That...sounds genuinely awful, I'm sorry. [ She hesitates. ] So... Does that...mean you're...like, an adult...?

[youngtimer]

[her reaction catches him by surprise: Riley is the first person to actually say 'wow, that sounds awful'. everyone else either doesn't believe him, or thinks he's lucky to get a second chance. his careful, cheerfully-acerbic mask falls for a moment and he lets out a huff of disbelief.]

Yeah. It's even worse when all you have to wear is a closet full of school uniforms. I was honestly relieved when I showed up here, it meant I had options. But - yes. I was fifty-seven when I showed up here. Which means there's a forty-four year disparity between what you see and what's going on between my ears most of the time. It's also how I wound up being a bartender and, eventually, the manager of the Lucky. I don't blame you for judging me a bit on that. Most people do when they look at me.

[isawallflower]

[ After everything she's seen and been through, frankly she'll believe anything with little convincing. Once a staunch "ghosts probably aren't real" person, she's learned to roll with the punches. ]

O- oh, I definitely wasn't— [ judging him, but...she was, wasn't she? ] ...Okay, it wasn't really...judging, I just...don't have a good relationship with alcohol.

[ This is weird. Knowing he's an adult... That changes this but she's not sure in what way. She's all thrown off-guard. You have to signal different things to adults and other kids...right? ]

[youngtimer]

Noted.

[their drinks come, and he raises his to her in deference]

Here's to my not pressing about that unless you actually ever want to share, then. People have enough shit to deal with here, without having to dredge up their past.

[action], some days after the network snuff film

[boneshears]

[He doesn't stand on ceremony. Instead, he gathers supplies. A bottle of local booze, high proof. Several containers of home cooking made with care by himself and Montgomery, all neatly sealed in tupperware and frozen for easy reheating convenience. And of course: Grand Bois' favourites from the conbini. It's not just people that miss each other. There's a sharp rap at Horatio's door, and if he doesn't answer, the sounds of the lock being deftly picked soon after.]

Horatio? It's me.

[isawallflower]

[ A toast to something like that? How...strange. Strange but welcome. Her smile's caught between the mask she puts on for adults and a genuinely grateful twitch of her lips, as she raises her cup in return. ]

Yeah. Here's to...letting people take that first step. When they feel like they can. [ A moment later, quickly: ] To, uhm, you too? I hope- I don't wanna pry, like, about any of the...sensitive stuff.

cw: (apparent) underage alcoholism

[youngtimer]

[Gabe will, indeed, have to pick that lock. When he opens the door to the Presidential Suite, he'll find that it is in absolute ruin: every piece from the neatly kept bar and beverage station smashed on the floor in a sea of glass and porcelain. the tea boxes have been thrown. Horatio's axe is embedded in the middle of the sofa, and fluff is everywhere. any piece of furniture that could have been broken and mangled has been, and there are splintered bits of wood everywhere. the windows have been smashed, and Dolores' usual window seat is abandoned.

The mannequin herself stands near the door to the guest room, as if staring in. The only reassuring detail may be that the amount of blood on the floor is negligible: spotting here and there, as though Horatio cut himself by accident over the course of his rampage, but nothing bad enough to worry about.

Gabe's sharp eye would notice that while the bar is empty, there are no broken bottles. If he peers into the guest room or passes Dolores to go in, he will discover the answer to the puzzle: Horatio, curled up unconscious on the guest bed, surrounded by empty liquor bottles]

[youngtimer]

[so there's a crack in that mask, he realizes, his own smile growing. good. he takes a sip of his coffee and pauses a moment to critique the brew. not bad, but not the best, his expression plainly says as he shrugs]

Honestly, there's not much I won't talk about. From before I got here, or after. I'm not really big on the mushy, feel-good conversations where everyone pours their hearts out, but ... If anyone asks me something, I tend to answer. And I'm a fairy, so ...

[a little wave of his hand takes the place of finishing the sentence: she's probably well aware that fairies can't lie]

[boneshears]

Dolores.

[A concerned nod of greeting. He's had to pick his way over the glass carefully to avoid slashing his paw pads, and peers through the door to see Horatio surrounded by the liquor bottles. His jaw sets. He's already had time to do this much, at least.

He sighs, and moves back past the mannequin to the kitchen, putting the food in the freezer and the booze on the bar, filling a surviving glass with water, ice and sacrificing some of his own painkillers to set up some succour from the hangover that was definitely hanging over the unconscious faerie's head. And then he starts the slow process of cleaning up the mess. Liquor bottles are removed to recycling. The shards of glass and smashed furniture are swept into bags and dropped into the garbage chute. Dolores is politely moved to her seat with various murmured apologies for doing so as he sweeps the room, and returned to her post once everything's free of splinters. By the time he's done, his jacket is hanging neatly from the haft of the embedded axe, and his sleeves are rolled to the elbow.

With the apartment tidied, he returns to the guest room, dropping the one, surviving chair down as he sits. As soon as Horatio stirs, he speaks.]

Your door lock's shit. Didn't even have to get the good tools out.

[He's at least polite enough not to smoke. He's less familiar with it, but he can smell perfume in the room and he's not about to ruin that.]

Horatio. Please drink that water and take the painkillers.

[isawallflower]

[ And yet. She's not! So, he trails off, and Riley tilts her head in that birdlike way of hers. ]

So...? I'm sorry, the, uh— I've only really spent time with Miss Lusamine and- well, Celeste while she's been one, in terms of like...fairies.

[youngtimer]

[he makes a little sound of mild surprise as he tilts his head in the opposite direction to her, smiling a little]

Aha. Celeste already knew because of me, and Lusamine's pretty new to it, and she doesn't seem like the type of person who'd find out by example, so that makes sense.

[he shrugs]

Fairies can't lie without feeling really serious pain.

[isawallflower]

...Oh.

[ Well. First of all, poor fucking Celeste, and second of all— ]

I...genuinely had no idea, uh. That must be... Wow.

[youngtimer]

It sure was annoying to find out, let me tell you.

[he takes a sip of his coffee, thinking for a moment]

Do harpies have anything that inconvenient?

[isawallflower]

Um... No?

[ But she doesn't sound so sure. Being a harpy... In only a year—less than, if you deduct the time it took for her to change, the time she spent a manticore—it's become an intrinsic part of her. ]

The most inconvenience was really just...the change itself, um... Like, I get distracted by shiny things, sometimes? But I don't really mind that. It doesn't sound as...difficult to deal with, as being literally unable to lie.

<WhiteWizard>, forward dated to 5/6, post temp changes

[softspokenlandlord]

Atem's not back

he's not back i need to go find him please help me

ive messaged other people too, we need as many as we can muster, people who can help with this

please Horatio i can't just sit here, i need him found.

Action

[youngtimer]

[were you expecting a friend in your apartment? because there's a friend in your apartment after a familiar flash of blue light. he was prepared for this and has a bag over his shoulder. first aid kit? definitely.]

He was headed to the Arcade, wasn't he? Let's go.

[softspokenlandlord]

[Ryou is startled, naturally, and he's back to being a werewolf, so that means his tail arches upward and he bristles from neck to back...but once he realizes it's Horatio, he calms down again. He doesn't look at Horatio immediately, because he's too busy trying to find his travel bag, so he can shove his laptop into it.]

Y-yes, he was. I've messaged other people, we're...we're going to meet outside the apartment complex! I have to get out there, I have to...!!

[...He sounds massively panicked, as is probably expected.]

[youngtimer]

[Horatio, now also a wolf himself - and decidedly shorter, his coloring black and dark brown - subconsciously leans forward to sniff Ryou. he smells like stress. Reassuringly, Horatio nudges their cheeks together, then steps back and shakes his head. damn these pack instincts, they're making it really hard to maintain his I Don't Care That Much facade]

Okay, let's go. Lead the way.

[youngtimer]

I got lucky, some fairies with moth wings get the whole 'mesmerized by light' thing, too. I missed that one. Good thing, with the casino being full of all that neon and shit.

[he chuckles a little to himself]

You know, the changes are hard, but ... they're not the hardest part, sometimes. Sometimes it's more ... [he pauses, trying to put his words in order before he finishes the thought aloud] ... knowing that you have to live here, the best way you can, and deciding what the hell that even looks like.

fair warning i love how his full name sounds so i'm gonna milk this speech quirk

[alchepistol]

[[ from here ]]

[ When their eyes meet, she smiles. Begins to move towards him, too. She'll be all business in a moment, but he'd made an impression on her, and she's glad to have this particular hypothesis confirmed. ]

I thought "NeverAcorned" might be you, Horatio Hargreeves.

[youngtimer]

Saint-Germaine. [he grins, completely pleased to see her again] Welcome to the Lucky. Come on, we'll use the VIP bar for some privacy. People will know where to find me if they need me.

[he'll start leading her across the main floor, past the velvet ropes that signal the start of the slot machine rows, waving to whoever's manning the cashier's cage at the moment] Did you have a hard time finding the place?

i don't know at what point in june the alchemesses moved into the 38-8 so /dodges issue

[alchepistol]

[ She shakes her head. ] It's a known landmark, so I had no trouble.

[ She keeps perfect pace with him, despite any crowds or other obstructions en route. If he checks, he can see she still has the pistol in her holster (unless this casino has a no-weapons policy, in which case she surrendered it upon entry as is protocol). ]