cityofsin_ooc | Test Drive 007

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!test drive

Test Drive 007

Test Drive Meme

Considering apping to the City of Sin, but unsure of who to bring or if they'll fit? Feel free to give the setting a test drive here! These are a perfect way of getting your playing sample done for the application.

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→ Comment with the character you'd like to test drive in the setting, with name and canon in the subject line
→ Choose a scenario, or create your own
→ Tag around

Possible Scenarios
01. A New Arrival: Hello, New Person! You seem to have found yourself on a sidewalk in the City of Sin with nothing but the clothes on your back and a stomach chruning feeling of being displaced. Thankfully, the streets are full of people - Watch out that you don't get mugged!

02. Demonic Presences: You were just minding your own business, weren't you? But that's always when bad things seem to happen, and the City of Sin isn't really that friendly. Whatever bar or street you're hanging out in suddenly go dim, filing the area with an unnerving feeling as the shadows on the walls jump out into reality. We suggest you phone a friend for help, or maybe try running?

03. Party Hard: You've been invited to a massive, elegant party at the Tower that spills out it's doors in welcome, by someone who calls themselves the Emperor. Obviously that's weird, but maybe you can get some free drinks and food out of it! This place might not be so bad.

04. Prominence: The City of Sin influences it's population on a weekly basis. Too bad you came right smack dab in the middle of a heavy Prominence. Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, or Pride. Choose your choice of sin and be wicked.

05. Trouble: Not everyone is sunshine and roses here. Some people are violent and cruel, raised in the sludge of a sinful city. And they like to pick on people they think can't fight back. Are you that person? Or are you the Hero who can't stand to watch? Worse yet, could you be the person doing the instigating? Villian.

06. Carnival: The City has carnivals or festivals now and then; you're lucky to catch one! With it's open booths filled with cork gun games and funnel cakes, how can someone not have any fun! Go win your darling a stuffed animal, or meet someone new on the spinning cup ride. You might even see someone you know being talked into sitting in the Dunk Tank.

07. Wild Card: Choose your own adventure in the game's setting!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

To Bucky's way of thinking, 'pal' was a perfectly reasonable way to address someone, since to him, it just meant a friend or, in this case, someone who was being friendly. He didn't know that to some it had become almost derogatory, through sarcastic over-use. He figured it was polite, and he certainly did need help, although he wasn't gonna come right out and ask for it.

Bucky was pretty familiar with that look on the stranger's--Eliot's--face, too, although not usually directed at him from another guy. (Okay, maybe once. Or twice. Well-- Look, he'd grown up in the poorest, queerest part of Brooklyn, he'd had to walk past a handful of gay bars on his way home from work every night, so yes, he'd been flirted with, leered at, even propositioned more times than he could count. He still wasn't real comfortable with it though, just 'cause he never knew how to politely decline said propositions.)

"I'm-- James," he said, hesitating a little over the name. In his head, his father was still James; but he was a grown man now, and being called Bucky by anyone but those who'd known him his whole life seemed a little juvenile. "An' yeah, lost is a good way to put it. I kinda just... wound up here. I was--" dying, but that might scare Eliot off, and Bucky still needed information. "Well, I was kinda in the middle of something, and just wound up here. I don't even know where 'here' is. Just figured I'd... wander around 'til I figured it out."

The description of his arrival got a little quirk of a smile out of Eliot. He was doing his own conversational calculations — breaking things to someone gently had never been his strongest suit, but there wasn't any telling about the man's comfort level with things like magic and inter-dimensional travel. Best to err on the side of caution, no matter how non-freaked-out James appeared.

"Kind of in the middle of something," he echoed. "That's sort of how it works."

Actually — an idea. He reached into his pocket for the silver cigarette case, flipped it open, offering. "Smoke?"

How what works? was what he really wanted to ask, but deciding he didn't want to appear too eager, Bucky held his tongue for a moment. He was glad for it, when Eliot pulled out a slim case Bucky recognized well.

Just the thought of a cigarette made him tense in anticipation, and Bucky nodded his thanks. "God, yes," he couldn't help but mutter, reaching for one of the white sticks. As he pulled it out, tamping it a couple times on his palm out of habit, Bucky did finally ask the question, "How what works? You know somethin' about how I got here?" The last was asked around the cigarette he'd already placed in his mouth.

Eliot nodded as he raised a hand to light his own cigarette. No lighter in his hand — in fact, there was nothing in his hand. He just lifted it, inhaled, and the cigarette seemed to light itself.

A little taste of magic to see how James would take it. And then, as he lowered the cigarette to let out that first drag, the kicker, delivered with deadpan matter-of-fact-ness:

"You've been pulled through the barriers of space and time. It's how a lot of people wind up here. I know because it happened to me only a few weeks ago."

Bucky's eyes widened at the display of—— well. He'd call it a parlor trick, except he was standing two feet away, and it was obvious there was nothing up Eliot's sleeve.

He listened to Eliot's explanation of how he'd gotten here, glancing around to take in all the sights, the people milling around and enjoying themselves, not seeming bothered that they'd been pulled from their own lives... "Space and time, huh...?"

Finally, he turned back to Eliot. "Don't s'pose you'd light mine, too, huh? 'Cause I could really use a smoke about now." It was such a huge understatement as to be laughable — but really, he'd already experienced things that, until they'd happened, he never would've imagined possible. He was pragmatic enough to know that sometimes, you just had to roll with the punches, go with what life handed you, and only worry about it when you were alone and couldn't help thinking about it.

Edited (punctuation is hard) 2016-06-23 19:33 (UTC)

James was still taking this disturbingly well. Eliot would be more worried, but hey. It could've been worse. He could've been dealing with someone more like himself.

He lifted his hand again, this time directed toward James, and the tip of his cigarette glowed. That done, Eliot settled his grip on James' upper arm, giving it a little squeeze.

"My condolences." That was an appropriate enough thing to say, right? Eliot lowered his hand, and his fingertips lingered against James' sleeve a half-second longer than necessary. The flirting was no longer top priority in this conversation, but he was still giving it a go.

He turned away, regarding the lights of the carnival. "On the upside, we have Skee Ball."

Bucky gave a small bark of laughter, shaking his head. He figured Eliot was a decent sort, and decided not to bring up the flirting yet; it was subtle, and nothing he couldn't handle, but he didn't really wanna lead the guy on, either.

"There is indeed Skee Ball," he agreed. He shook his head again, the smile crossing his face this time tinged with dark amusement, and a little sadness. "Y'know the really funny thing? I was dead." He swallowed convulsively before continuing, not daring to look and see what expression might be on Eliot's face. "I'd just fallen from a train, over this huge ravine. There was no way I'd survive, and I knew it. I can't decide yet if this is better than the alternative. I mean, I ain't dead... But I don't know what I am, either."

He didn't really give Eliot a chance to respond before taking a quick breath and saying, "Skee Ball, right? Sounds like a blast."

That was about all the introspection he was going to allow himself, at the moment, and more than he'd really wanted in the first place.

Fortunately for his new companion, Eliot was an expert at the avoidance of unpleasant thought. He looped an arm around James' shoulders, turning to direct them toward the arcade tent.

"Oh, you need much more than a smoke," was all he'd say on that particular matter, the words muffled by the cigarette as his free hand reached into his jacket. He drew out a flask, passed it over. Inside was top-shelf bourbon... a lot more than James would expect.

"Feel free," Eliot said. "It never empties."

Never one to pass up a free drink, Bucky's eyebrows rose at Eliot's words. He glanced over as he took the flask, and asked, "Is this another of yer..." Not wanting to possibly insult the man by calling it a trick, Bucky merely lifted his hand to his cigarette in demonstration.

Taking another drag from the cigarette, he exhaled before bringing the flask up and taking what was probably more than an adequate few gulps of what turned out to be superb bourbon. "Wow," he muttered after finally drawing the flask away, coughing a little at the burn.

"Yeah, it's magic," Eliot interjected. Figured that wouldn't come as much of a shock at this point.

He smiled a little when James coughed, steering him again, turning into the tent that was full of bright light and the sound of ringing bells.

"Let's have some fun." He gave the other man's arm a light slap before he spun off, walking the next couple of steps backwards so he could give James an inviting look.

"Yeah, magic," Bucky muttered. When your best friend suddenly goes from a hundred pounds soaking wet to a hulking mass of muscle with super strength, you see a guy rip his face off to reveal a red skull underneath, and you maybe have some enhancements running through your blood now too - really, at what point do you just give up and go with it? Whatever that point was, Bucky seemed to have passed it. "Sure, why not?" He took another swig of bourbon.

Bucky couldn't quite help the pleased smile that spread across his face at Eliot's exuberance, though he tried by biting his bottom lip. Finally he just shook his head a little, before giving the other man a conciliatory smile. "Not that I ain't flattered," he said kindly, with a significant look, "but I think you and I might have different ideas for 'fun', in some areas." He was trying to let the guy down easy; no, he wasn't into in any of that, but Eliot had been nothing but kind and helpful to him, and he had no problem what the guy was into - he just wanted them to be square from the beginning, with no misunderstandings between them.

It wasn't even that Bucky wasn't curious - growing up in his neighborhood, you heard, even saw things; anyone would be curious, right? But nice fellas just didn't do that sort of thing, or so he was told, and so he'd never considered it. Not seriously, anyway.

Eliot would contend that if some of the smile left his eyes in that moment, nobody could blame him. But it also wasn't the first time he'd been let down, and so far, it was pretty high up on the scale of polite rejections.

At least the guy had noticed. Sometimes you practically had to resort to sky writing to get a straight guy to give you a straight answer. Funny how that worked.

"Skee Ball," he repeated. Message received. James was still in need of a distraction, so he wasn't jumping ship. They'd just see where things went.

Eliot reached out to take the flask, long enough to take a long pull of his own, then offered it back to James as they approached the row of machines.

Bucky grinned and nodded, relieved that Eliot took the message with good grace. "Skee Ball," he repeated.

Reaching out for one of the small wooden balls, he hefted it in his hand for a moment, considering. "It's been a while since I did this," he murmured, almost to himself. "Wonder if I still remember how," he added jokingly.

Taking another swig from the flask (and wasn't that a kicker, not having to worry about taking too much and having nothing left), he handed it to Eliot before pulling his arm down and back along his side, before swinging up and letting go, watching the ball shoot along the ramp toward the target holes─

somewhat faster than he expected, and carrying right over even the highest slot, bumping into the roof of the game with an audible whump! before falling back down. It managed to land in the 20 hole, but Bucky wasn't paying attention to it anymore, staring down at his hand as if it were a foreign object.

"Uh... didn't used to be able to do that..." he muttered.

Eliot posted up at the next machine over, drinking from the flask one more time before spinning it closed and returning it to his jacket. For now. He then picked up a ball himself — well, it was more like he lowered his hand, and the ball was drawn toward it like a magnet, hovering over his fingers when he turned his hand over again. He wasn't always one to use magic for such trivial things, but in this moment, he couldn't resist a little showing off.

And then James went and got distracted by his own hand.

"...roll a ball?" He figured that wasn't actually what he meant, but what else could it be?

Flexing his hand, Bucky shook it out and shook his head. "Didn't used to be that strong. I didn' roll it that hard," he muttered.

Picking up another ball, he turned to Eliot and tipped his chin. "Come on, then. Lessee how good ya are. And none a that funny magic stuff, either. Skill only, pal. Don' think I didn't see that thing you just did." He might have been focused on his own roll, but he had excellent periphery vision, and the fact Eliot hadn't even leaned over to grab a ball from the basket hadn't been lost on him.

Bucky wasn't being belligerent on purpose, either; he was used to giving grief to his friends, and getting it right back. Eliot was quickly becoming a friend, and it was just natural for him. It had been a while since Bucky had had to make friends that weren't already brothers-in-arms, who might not take kindly to the back-and-forth ribbing he was used to.

Eliot responded to that little bit of ribbing with a lingering, smirking look, regarding James from under lowered eyelids while he took a long pull of his cigarette. Like okay, I see you.

If it came off as slightly flirtatious? That was just the way his face worked, really.

He readied himself by passing the ball in between both hands, just so James could get a look at how the weight landed in his palms. No magic here, see? Nothing up his sleeve. The ball rolled, easy as you please, hopped upward, bounced off the rim of the 30-point bulls-eye, and settled down into 20.

Eliot shrugged a shoulder. It was nothing special, but now they were tied.

"No super-powers required."

Bucky rolled his eyes, at both the look he got from Eliot, as well as the little showmanship he gave before actually rolling the ball. He still watched the ball closely, looking for any signs that Eliot was manipulating it; he knew that these weren't parlor tricks, and the other man didn't have to be touching something to use his magic.

He had to smirk a little at Eliot's nonchalance, acting as if he'd meant to get it in the 20 spot in the first place. Guy had confidence down to an art-form, that was for sure.

Taking a drag from his own cigarette, then flicking the ash off, Bucky reached for another ball. He only pulled his arm back just past his leg, but flicked his wrist at the end of the release to add a little spin and momentum. Rolling up the plank, it landed on the edge of 30 and 40, but with the added spin, it neatly fell into the 40 slot, and Bucky couldn't help his own pleased grin.

Feeling more confident himself, he shot Eliot a pleased look. "Yer turn, hot-shot."

Oooh, so they were actually trying now. Right, then. On his next throw, Eliot put a little more effort into his aim. After a nice, easy roll, the ball hopped up into the 30 hole.

"And yet you're the one not playing fair." From the look of things, at least. There was a story behind whatever had made that ball roll wild on James' first throw, but Eliot wasn't going to pry. Only tease.

Bucky couldn't help but laugh at Eliot's words. He spread his hands in his own gesture of 'nothing to see here'. "It's all in the technique, my friend. Twist'a the wrist. Takes practice, though. Figured every boy over the age a thirteen knew that." Feeling bold, he winked at Eliot, smirking.

Deciding to be fancy, and not really caring anymore about score, Bucky tried aiming off to the side, for one of the top 100 holes. This time, he wasn't as lucky, the ball went too far, before circling back down to earn only 10 points. He lifted his arms again, this time with a shrug. "Ya win some, ya lose some." He took another drag of his cigarette. Between Eliot's friendly company, the cigarette, and the exceptional bourbon, he was certainly feeling a lot better than he had been, that was for sure. So, he was in some weird City where apparently magic was possible.

At least they had skee ball.

Speaking of the bourbon: while they traded turns, the flask came out again, and Eliot passed it over before taking a healthy swig of his own. So maybe this encounter hadn't resulted in an ideal outcome from Eliot's perspective. The guy was enjoyable enough just to hang out with.

There were a few lucky rolls on his part, but in the end, Eliot's game came out to a modest total of 190. He shrugged it off while he crushed the butt of his cigarette under his shoe.

"So, which neighborhood did they drop you into?"

Bucky didn't do much better than Eliot in the end, but for once he didn't really feel very competitive; it was more about the companionship, the gentle ribbing and teasing and back-and-forth, the ability to forget, for a while, all the other things he had on his mind. That was priceless to Bucky.

At the question, Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away in embarrassment. Sighing, he dropped his arm and gave an aggrieved sigh. "Red Lantern. My apartment's awful. Looks like a drag queen walked in, started to decorate, and then just... exploded." After a moment, he gave a shrug. "It's a helluva lot better than anywhere else I've ever lived, though, 'cept for the decor. Bed's pretty comfy." And big. Worryingly big, since there was absolutely no reason to make a bed that big just to sleep in. And certainly not for just one person. "It looks like a high-end queer hotel."

He wasn't trying to be offensive - that was honestly the most polite term he knew, from his time.

Eliot had heard worse in his life, delivered with a lot more vitriol. Anyway, by now he was pretty solid on the fact that James wasn't from around here, temporally speaking.

"Better than a low-rent one, at least," he quipped. "You should come over to the Gardens sometime. We keep our seediness resigned to the back alleys."

Bucky tilted his head in concession; it certainly was nice to not be living in a slum (again), that was for sure. Of course, at this point, anything was nicer than sleeping out in the wilderness of Europe. Looked at from that perspective, what was some garish wallpaper and an alarming amount of glitz?

"Ooh, the Gardens," Bucky teased with a smile. "Fancy name. Seediness doesn't bother me, so long's people leave me alone. What other people choose to do is their own business, I figure. So long as it ain't hurtin' anybody."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Test Drive 007

It happens, lol.

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