Spike Spiegel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gottaknockhard) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2014-04-01 09:31 pm
gottaknockhard) wrote in paradisalogs2014-04-01 09:31 pm
Entry tags:
I want to ride on this carousel
Who: Spike, Vicious, and OPEN
What: Best friends hang out (aka Spike wakes up from a coma and starts on a loss in which he and Vicious forget all about betrayal and blonde women - so naturally, he invites him to a bar)
When: April 1st
Where: the Death Match
Rating: PG-13
He picked the furthest table from the entrance, the one that was cast in the most shadow, knowing instinctively which Vicious would have chosen. Maybe it wasn't the most inconspicuous bar they could have gone to, but it had the benefit of being both close by and having the furthest resemblance to a room in the clinic. That was good enough for him.
And what better way to get woken from a coma than to get drenched with beer in the first establishment he entered? Luckily for the owner, Spike could barely be bothered to be annoyed at the rudimentary prank, or be offended at the waste of perfectly good (he assumed) alcohol. Instead, he ordered another, emphasizing that he'd like it in a glass, which is what he's currently waiting on while he inspects the damage to the leftover pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
He sighs heavily when he can't get a single soggy stick to light and tosses it on the table. The only thing that might brighten his mood is if Vicious has a more animated reaction when he crosses through that door, and his eyes flicker towards the entrance to make sure he doesn't miss it. -- Of course, Vicious hasn't had the pleasure of being tied to a bed for the past few weeks and his reflexes may save him. Either way, he doubts he'll be as generous with the owner as Spike just was.
His perspective must be warped when this is his idea of a good time, but he can't feel sorry about that. Every day is a holiday when you're Spike Spiegel.
What: Best friends hang out (aka Spike wakes up from a coma and starts on a loss in which he and Vicious forget all about betrayal and blonde women - so naturally, he invites him to a bar)
When: April 1st
Where: the Death Match
Rating: PG-13
He picked the furthest table from the entrance, the one that was cast in the most shadow, knowing instinctively which Vicious would have chosen. Maybe it wasn't the most inconspicuous bar they could have gone to, but it had the benefit of being both close by and having the furthest resemblance to a room in the clinic. That was good enough for him.
And what better way to get woken from a coma than to get drenched with beer in the first establishment he entered? Luckily for the owner, Spike could barely be bothered to be annoyed at the rudimentary prank, or be offended at the waste of perfectly good (he assumed) alcohol. Instead, he ordered another, emphasizing that he'd like it in a glass, which is what he's currently waiting on while he inspects the damage to the leftover pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
He sighs heavily when he can't get a single soggy stick to light and tosses it on the table. The only thing that might brighten his mood is if Vicious has a more animated reaction when he crosses through that door, and his eyes flicker towards the entrance to make sure he doesn't miss it. -- Of course, Vicious hasn't had the pleasure of being tied to a bed for the past few weeks and his reflexes may save him. Either way, he doubts he'll be as generous with the owner as Spike just was.
His perspective must be warped when this is his idea of a good time, but he can't feel sorry about that. Every day is a holiday when you're Spike Spiegel.