![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
poorlittlerichboyLogan's flipping through old photos on his cell as he walks, trying to find a saved shot of Homecoming night, with Lilly and Duncan and Veronica and himself all laughing like idiots, and for a fraction of a second he doesn't notice he's stepped into new territory. Then the change in the light registers, and he looks around, surprised, alarmed and searching.
He's tall, and angular, with features that seem caught somehow between sharp handsomeness and little-boy softness of cheeks and lips. There are more shadows around his eyes than any boy his age should have. He rubs the back of his head with one hand, and adjusts the laptop he's carrying.
And then Mickey comes forward, and his mouth twists into a disbelieving smirk. He notices the 2-D effect, and shuffles from side to side trying to see it work.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
He straightens, and looks solemn. "Arthur, King of the Britons."
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
...Well, that just takes all of the fun out of it. "As of about forty-five seconds ago, to find out where I am and what the fuck is going on here." Noting the lack of helpful information-giving, he adds, "Yeah, I'm pretty used to waiting on that kind of thing. But I will find out! And on that day...I'll probably be the last to know and/or in mortal peril."
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important."
"Because it's a Python reference," he explains with exaggerated patience. "Nothing's more important."
He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
"I believe world peace is the accepted first answer. Preferably not because suddenly everyone on the planet is dead or lobotomized, but whatever. Does that make one or two? Let's say one. Then, let's see, an end to world hunger? Or disease? I suppose disease could be number three, but then where does the harem of lingerie-clad tequila-bearing sexbots fit in?"
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
"What's he wishing for and do I like him?"
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
"Well, I think most of the people back home are really looking forward to me being first against the wall - what can I say, I'm irresistible. I'd be banking on my charm to get me by." It's said with utter sincerity. A cheesy grin would just be over the top.
"Otherwise...uh, I can consume impressive amounts of alcohol and party drugs, so maybe I could be used as a guinea pig for dangerous substances? Or I suppose there's always kicking the shit out of people or selling my ass. Would you say this is more of an American Revolution, a French Revolution or a," dramatic mushroom-cloud hand gesturing, "full-scale The Stand or Left Behind-style apocalypse?"
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
"Milk or dark. Just not anything that's been left out in the open by persons unknown." He's starting to think maybe he ate a "special" chocolate or something himself. Because seriously, Disneyland? His bar for insanity is set pretty high these days, but 2-D Mickey Mouse? What the fuck?
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
"They should put you guys in charge of writing essay questions for AP Art History. The answer to everything could be 'What is Dada?'" Deciding nothing's currently about to jump out and kill him and he needs a drink to get through the rest of this, he pulls out a flask and takes a swig of bourbon. He rolls it around in his mouth for a minute before saying, "Pirates, for my beloved alma mater. And ninjas for the essential light-dark, yin-yang balance of the universe, and 'cause they're awesome."
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
"You're just asking? You're not actually going to ask me to turn out my pockets? Damn, security around here's getting lax." He puts away the flask and smiles sweetly. "Nope, no sharp objects here."
((Logan Echolls, from Veronica Mars. Post![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hogwarts_hocus, where he was subjected to various emotional traumas and took various stupid risks. So, par for the course, pretty much.))
He's tall, and angular, with features that seem caught somehow between sharp handsomeness and little-boy softness of cheeks and lips. There are more shadows around his eyes than any boy his age should have. He rubs the back of his head with one hand, and adjusts the laptop he's carrying.
And then Mickey comes forward, and his mouth twists into a disbelieving smirk. He notices the 2-D effect, and shuffles from side to side trying to see it work.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
He straightens, and looks solemn. "Arthur, King of the Britons."
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
...Well, that just takes all of the fun out of it. "As of about forty-five seconds ago, to find out where I am and what the fuck is going on here." Noting the lack of helpful information-giving, he adds, "Yeah, I'm pretty used to waiting on that kind of thing. But I will find out! And on that day...I'll probably be the last to know and/or in mortal peril."
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important."
"Because it's a Python reference," he explains with exaggerated patience. "Nothing's more important."
He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
"I believe world peace is the accepted first answer. Preferably not because suddenly everyone on the planet is dead or lobotomized, but whatever. Does that make one or two? Let's say one. Then, let's see, an end to world hunger? Or disease? I suppose disease could be number three, but then where does the harem of lingerie-clad tequila-bearing sexbots fit in?"
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
"What's he wishing for and do I like him?"
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
"Well, I think most of the people back home are really looking forward to me being first against the wall - what can I say, I'm irresistible. I'd be banking on my charm to get me by." It's said with utter sincerity. A cheesy grin would just be over the top.
"Otherwise...uh, I can consume impressive amounts of alcohol and party drugs, so maybe I could be used as a guinea pig for dangerous substances? Or I suppose there's always kicking the shit out of people or selling my ass. Would you say this is more of an American Revolution, a French Revolution or a," dramatic mushroom-cloud hand gesturing, "full-scale The Stand or Left Behind-style apocalypse?"
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
"Milk or dark. Just not anything that's been left out in the open by persons unknown." He's starting to think maybe he ate a "special" chocolate or something himself. Because seriously, Disneyland? His bar for insanity is set pretty high these days, but 2-D Mickey Mouse? What the fuck?
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
"They should put you guys in charge of writing essay questions for AP Art History. The answer to everything could be 'What is Dada?'" Deciding nothing's currently about to jump out and kill him and he needs a drink to get through the rest of this, he pulls out a flask and takes a swig of bourbon. He rolls it around in his mouth for a minute before saying, "Pirates, for my beloved alma mater. And ninjas for the essential light-dark, yin-yang balance of the universe, and 'cause they're awesome."
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
"You're just asking? You're not actually going to ask me to turn out my pockets? Damn, security around here's getting lax." He puts away the flask and smiles sweetly. "Nope, no sharp objects here."
((Logan Echolls, from Veronica Mars. Post
hogwarts_hocus, where he was subjected to various emotional traumas and took various stupid risks. So, par for the course, pretty much.))
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-11-27 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-29 05:38 pm (UTC)