Philip (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
radiopalkiller) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-11-19 08:51 am
radiopalkiller) wrote in entrancelogs2016-11-19 08:51 am
[ open ] You're really doing rather well...
Who: Philip & YOU
Where: The bar
When: (backdated to) November 14th
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: It's not like Philip isn't at the bar nearly every day. It's just that today he's got a marginally more compelling reason than on most days.
The Story:
[ He hasn't properly seen anything from his world for a long time. Correction: He hasn't seen his world for a long time. For a horrifying second he thought he was back. That the clock was ticking again, but-- The odd landscape of his supposed mind came before. And maybe if he'd learned his lesson... he'd still be just as dead, who is he kidding? He shakes his head--
--and remembers that he's back at the bar. Long in Wonderland. That, all things considered, he really is doing rather well, for someone with only ninety minutes left to live. The pre-determined universe can stuff it, that's the bottom line here. He knocks back his whiskey, and fills the glass again. Locks eyes with someone else nearby, and decides that he isn't feeling entirely antisocial today. He raises his glass at them. ]
Can I pretend to buy you a drink?
[[ OOC: Philip is mute. Sometimes he writes/types to get his message across, but usually he talks to people telepathically. His info and opt-out post is here. Short version: Getting people to hear his voice is all he can do. Characters may not know/believe this, but he is incapable of any form of mind reading/mind manipulation. ]]
Where: The bar
When: (backdated to) November 14th
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: It's not like Philip isn't at the bar nearly every day. It's just that today he's got a marginally more compelling reason than on most days.
The Story:
[ He hasn't properly seen anything from his world for a long time. Correction: He hasn't seen his world for a long time. For a horrifying second he thought he was back. That the clock was ticking again, but-- The odd landscape of his supposed mind came before. And maybe if he'd learned his lesson... he'd still be just as dead, who is he kidding? He shakes his head--
--and remembers that he's back at the bar. Long in Wonderland. That, all things considered, he really is doing rather well, for someone with only ninety minutes left to live. The pre-determined universe can stuff it, that's the bottom line here. He knocks back his whiskey, and fills the glass again. Locks eyes with someone else nearby, and decides that he isn't feeling entirely antisocial today. He raises his glass at them. ]
Can I pretend to buy you a drink?
[[ OOC: Philip is mute. Sometimes he writes/types to get his message across, but usually he talks to people telepathically. His info and opt-out post is here. Short version: Getting people to hear his voice is all he can do. Characters may not know/believe this, but he is incapable of any form of mind reading/mind manipulation. ]]
no subject
Good fucking riddance, he'd say, only he's not that callous.
As far as burning tapes goes, he's settled for a bottle of whiskey as opposed to lighter fluid since that's likely to be less suspicious. A guy hauling a jug of lighter fluid to the gardens is a probable arsonist; a guy hauling a bottle of whiskey to the gardens is just a sad man who makes despicable life choices.
Either way, the first thing that comes out of his mouth when a voice in his head asks if he'd like to have a drink is, stupidly enough:]
I don't - I don't drink.
[Just ignore the fact that he's got an entire bottle of a very alcoholic beverage in his hand. Also: what the fuck.]
no subject
Somebody else he never thought he'd see again. And Alex was one thing. He was tense smiles and passing nods in places they both knew they shouldn't have been at the time. Alex was the silence between everything they both left unsaid and knew better than to ask. Alex was tips on how to get blood stains out of the carpet.
But Tim? Tim was the first friend he lost, so long ago that Philip doesn't even remember the sadness. Or was it already bitterness then? He can't remember that, either. He glances down at the bottle in Tim's hand, instead. ]
In that case I've got some really bad news about that bottle of iced tea you've got there.
no subject
Tim also finds that he has no rational means to refute the fact that he is indeed holding a bottle of something alcoholic after making it explicit that he doesn't drink. He doesn't see a rational explanation here besides "so I wanted to burn some tapes I have," and that's not really all that rational at all. In fact, it's downright Kralie-esque.
Yeah, no. He's not gonna go there. But he does have an excellent diversion in the form of - ]
Are you talking in my head right now?
no subject
Not big on having an actual voice, sorry about that.
[ He almost starts up his usual spiel right there, that ever so helpful standard disclaimer about his abilities, but that would just give the impression that he's trying to keep the conversation going, wouldn't it? Which he doesn't. Which of course he doesn't. ]
--No, I'm not reading your mind. Yes, I've got a pen and paper if you're more of a reader.
[ Well. ]
no subject
He can adjust. Probably.]
Should I ask why or how, or is that, you know...difficult subject?
no subject
[ They talked. Last time- last time they still talked. That sits in his stomach like cold water. He pours himself another glass, and empties it again, all but in the same motion. Even the difficult subjects lose their edge after a few bottles. ]
no subject
Yes.
[Yes. Yes. All of the above.]
no subject
[Jo sends a wry smile in Philip's direction as she crosses over from where she'd been toweling mugs dry at the other end of the bar, setting her towel aside as she folds her arms and leans against the counter opposite him. She's had a long time to get used to the way Philip communicates-- doesn't bat an eye at it anymore, and seeing him in the bar? Well, he's as much of a mainstay there as she is.
There's nothing out of the ordinary about his being there, but the recent event had been a difficult one, like so many others. Maybe he needed a drink with a little extra kick to it today.]
You're chatty today.
[She's pretty sure reaching out at all counts as 'talkative' for Philip these days.]
no subject
[ He huffs a laugh though. Chatty, that's a good one on any day. He's even got the decency to look sheepish about it, because there's still people-- Still enough people he doesn't want to withdraw from, enough people he wants- badly wants to stop seeing as countdowns to the day they leave. Except he does, on the worst days. And the good ones have felt scarce again, lately... ]
Just something on my mind that's almost worth half a transmission. [ He pauses, and almost waits for her to ask. And then he doesn't: ] Thought about calling dibs on the last event. Some of it, at least. [ He raises his hands defensively. ] Don't ask me where the zoo aspect came from though, that's not on me.
no subject
[She flashes him a genuine smile, because even if the bar has been her home for the last three and a half years, she hasn't forgotten who it used to belong to. Philip might as well be royalty as far as the bar staff is concerned.
She pours a drink for herself so that she can join him, raising an eyebrow.]
So that was you, huh? I was having trouble figuring out who might've been responsible for that one. You think you're gonna claim it? I don't think anyone would blame you if you didn't want to. Not like you chose it.
no subject
[The telepathy doesn't really bother her. Not in the slightest.]
I'll have whatever you're having. Haven't tried that brand yet.
[The list of what she hasn't tried is continuously shrinking though.]
Might I ask what the occasion is though?
[She's curious. She hasn't turned down the offer very often because usually people don't offer. So this is a nice change, actually.]
no subject
And his head is apparently so jumbled up that now he's hearing voices in his head that aren't his own.]
Sure thing, darling. We've both got nothing better to do.
[Despite this voice in his head being a slightly uncomfortable subject, he rolls with it. After all, magic is weird, and so is Wonderland. And he's pretty sure the source of it is the cute man raising a glass to him a few seats away.]
no subject
[Really, anything that can get his mind of sort of having his secret exposed to a madman he barely knows will do, but Dorian has delicate tastes. The smell of wine was intoxicating, but it wasn't quite strong enough to knock him out. Just perfect.]
[All at once, he thinks he hears a voice call to him.]
Oh? I wouldn't mind at all...
[He looks around, but he doesn't see anyone's lips moving.]
[He does see a man looking at him. Maybe he spoke and Dorian wasn't paying attention?]
... Sir.
yoooo
Especially not by--
A telepath?
Interesting. Regis isn't here for drinks, exactly - he doesn't need to drink - but he enjoys people-watching and observing the comings and goings of the mansion population. With the initial surprise passed by with as much notice as anyone might give a street seller, the man decides on nodding and moves to take a closer seat.]
There can't be any harm in it. Something warm, if you please.
[All pretend, but he can play along.]