nookiepowered: (security (smile))
Most people who invited friends over for breakfast invited those friends to their home, not their office. Then again, most people who invited their friends to their home for breakfast

a) had a kitchen
b) had friends who don't effectively live next door to their office
c) were most people, which Bo was not. Hell, the jury was still out on whether Bo was even people.

All of which added up to a security office full of J,GoB doughnuts, Perk coffee, and orange juice that was not a pitcher of mimosas and would never be, no matter how much someone with an unpronounceable Russian last name might bitch wish otherwise.

It also added up to a crapload of leftover doughnuts, coffee, and still-not-mimosas once those friends were no longer in residence, because somebody was so not used to doing breakfast for more than two, and had way overcompensated.

[OOC: First thread is for breakfast with the Canuckian travelers, second is open office hours!]
nookiepowered: (with Trick (smiles/buds))
For all that the outside of Trick's beloved Dal Riata looked like just another entrance down Bad Decision Alley, the inside was warm and comforting, with wood that polished until it glowed and comfortable stools and chairs that had been worn down by years of patrons.

It was the perfect place to relax and unwind, whether with a beer after a long, hard day. Light Fae and Dark could mingle and rub elbows without exchanging more than dirty looks or fanged glares. The Dal was a Waystation: a neutral, Fae-only pub, where they were free from the need to mask their true nature.

It was still a little bit before the dinner rush, which meant the bar itself was more empty than not. Which, considering the group about to enter the Dal, was probably for the best.

You're sure this is the right address? )
Later... )

[Preplayed with the splendiferous [livejournal.com profile] regretiz4suckas, [livejournal.com profile] godgavemecable, [livejournal.com profile] chose_humanity and [livejournal.com profile] glacial_witch. NFB since off-island, but OOC=A-OK! Dyson and Trick's conversation folded, spindled, and mutilated from Lost Girl 1x01, It's A Fae Fae Fae Fae World.]
nookiepowered: (action (swing))
"Seriously?" said Bo on entering her office. Because seriously?

Bad enough that all her calls to Portalocity were coming back Contact Declined this week, like somebody over there was actively trying to make sure she couldn't escape to Wales and certain undead residents thereof when certain feelings she lived with every day started twisting up the dial to Spinal Tap levels, but now this?

This being a security office now liberally bestrewn with colorful latex circles and squares (equal opportunity desecration; she supposed that was nice), battery-operated objects of various sizes and shapes, some more humanoid than others ("TENTACLES, KENZI? REALLY?"), some even already turned on (...shut up) like the line of yellow plastic ducks merrily buzzing their way across her desk.

Like her libido needed any had-to-have-come-from-'Dite's encouragement this week? And as for the leather swing hanging from a sturdy pair of chains affixed to the ceiling in the middle of the room...

Actually, that looked kind of fun. Maybe it would even cool her off a little bit?

Orrr maybe not. On the other hand, working up a sweat as she swung back and forth was keeping Bo just dizzy enough to forget why she was supposed to be annoyed about this.

{Aaaaaaand the followthrough, because there's always followthrough.}

[OOC: Office redecoration modded with permission, nay instigation from [livejournal.com profile] regretiz4suckas. Open, but... sex pollen. Succubus. Probably not safe for work despite the fact that she's at work.]
nookiepowered: (bath (inna towel smiling))
"Okay so yes, I have a giant bathtub and you don't?" Of which Bo had recent mildly saddening reminder. "But I still say the room service makes up for it."

[OOC: for the gentleman in question.]
nookiepowered: (surprised (OMFG))
Saturday's weirdness? It hadn't exactly gone away, but it had died down a bit when Bo hermited herself up in her own place for a few days. Enough that she could talk sanely to insane people and while the delivery guy from Pizza Planet stumbled away muttering about the best tip ever, he was still conscious and vertical at the time, so it counted as a win.

So... maybe it was safe to try venturing out? She had to come into work sometime, after all, and things were still kind of...warm, but not out of control when she stepped out the door into the street.

One walk to school through the oh, so fresh air and twelve sneezes later, she'd found out the answer to that the hard way.

Which was why it was Bo who stumbled now -- out of the janitor's closet.

From behind her came the shuffle-scrape-THUD of someone doing the first three steps of a soft-shoe before giving up and collapsing to the floor with a faint but not unhappy groan.

"Don't you judge me. Don't you DARE judge me!" she stammered defensively to... an empty hallway.

Right. Okay. She'd get to her office eventually, but right now she'd just stay here and hold up this wall for a minute or an hour or two. Until she figured out why, even buzzing with energy as she was now, Bo was still hungry.

--
[OOC: Highly likely to be some flavor of NWS. Expecting two, but open to random encounters of the polleny variety! Though for the sake of not juggling logistics, let's OOCly limit the unexpected to people it's safe to have random polleny encounters with.]
nookiepowered: (action (reading - smile))
This week's postcard was from Barbados, actually, not Morocco. It still put a much-needed smile on Bo's face as she relaxed in front of the tv with a Guinness in honor of other absent friends.

[OOC: for the tricksy tiny one. No, not him. The other tricksy tiny one. The one she's actually met.]
nookiepowered: (action (reading - smile))
This week's postcard was from Barbados, actually, not Morocco. It still put a much-needed smile on Bo's face as she relaxed in front of the tv with a Guinness in honor of other absent friends.

[OOC: for the tricksy tiny one. No, not him. The other tricksy tiny one. The one she's actually met.]
nookiepowered: (smiling (in bed))
"Oh look, there's a ceiling."

Because, you know, yesterday, there hadn't been.

There hadn't been a Mitchell, either.

The math here will not be left as an exercise for the student, though Kenzi will undoubtedly do it anyway.

[OOC: For the resident!]
nookiepowered: (smiling (in bed))
"Oh look, there's a ceiling."

Because, you know, yesterday, there hadn't been.

There hadn't been a Mitchell, either.

The math here will not be left as an exercise for the student, though Kenzi will undoubtedly do it anyway.

[OOC: For the resident!]
nookiepowered: (z - dude (bed))
Bo didn't like that a weekend wakeup -- before she even opened her eyes -- of "at least it couldn't be worse than last Saturday" was starting to become habitual.

Know what she disliked even more than that? When she was wrong.

"What the *&^*&$&^%&(^%)*_^)$&%^$&*^%&^%^&*@@@?!1!?" She said it before the mirror, she said it to the mirror, she said it after the mirror. Then to her closet -- how the hell was she going to go to work like this? -- but by that time she'd at least managed to cut off the What the...

Then she said, "*&^*&$&^%&(^%)*_^)$&%^$&*^%&^%^&*@@@?!1! I need pants!" but that was to her phone.

[OOC: for the dude on the other end of the line.]
nookiepowered: (z - dude (bed))
Bo didn't like that a weekend wakeup -- before she even opened her eyes -- of "at least it couldn't be worse than last Saturday" was starting to become habitual.

Know what she disliked even more than that? When she was wrong.

"What the *&^*&$&^%&(^%)*_^)$&%^$&*^%&^%^&*@@@?!1!?" She said it before the mirror, she said it to the mirror, she said it after the mirror. Then to her closet -- how the hell was she going to go to work like this? -- but by that time she'd at least managed to cut off the What the...

Then she said, "*&^*&$&^%&(^%)*_^)$&%^$&*^%&^%^&*@@@?!1! I need pants!" but that was to her phone.

[OOC: for the dude on the other end of the line.]

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Bo Jones. Or maybe Dennis.

December 2015

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