dresden_kink | Dressing Room

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Dressing Room

Ack! Close the door; people are changing in here!

This post is for RPG shenanigans. The rules stand. A short refresher: don't be an asshole.

This post-specifics: multiple characters are okay. Characters specific to alternate verses are okay. OCs are okay. Your journal coming in to hang too is okay. There isn't a formal scenario here; it's an open sandbox where all characters and community-watchers can come and play. If your thread is going adult-only, put up a notice in the subject line. If it's going into trigger territory, don't be an asshole: no noncon-noncon'ing anyone, watchers included. Don't start OOC shit.

And have a blast!

(Don't have a dreamwidth account for your character(s)? Go check out

dw_codesharing. If there's nothing on the first page, dig deep. Lots get missed, especially when new codes go out. Also, check out the code sharing post.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Swimsuit Edition.

The guy really thought he was an idiot, didn't he? Well, when you set yourself up as the standard... and, because whatever his opinions are on The Wizard (quote unquote), he's not totally uncharitable, it's not like he doesn't know what he looks like, what people who watch the movies and only see 'big and still big' when they look at him must think. And it's not like he didn't put that out there sometimes, encourage it. He thought back to the first time he'd met Dresden, and heh, yeah. How much things changed, and how much they stayed that same.

Like that growl. He's heard that before. Midway between the smartass comments and when buildings started burning down. "No," he said, kept it in the steroid-monotone. "I cut eyeholes in it. It's how I get my intel."

Oh. That's rather old school of you. I thought Marcone was all about modernizing crime. [He eyes the... sort of odd lunch things for a moment, but discards any ideas related to them. Maybe Marcone's got him on a super healthy diet. Marcone would be the type to micromanage his employees that way. Stars, it almost mad him feel sorry for poor Cujo. He needed to be free to roam the fields and chase cats in his natural environment.

... Wow, that thought got away a bit there.]

Okay, not that I need the help, but have you seen a sylph around? Shortish thing, has dragonfly wings, kicks up gusts wherever it goes?

Hendricks sees him looking and pops open his box of bao, picking out one-- mm, bbq pork-- and making a point of peeling off the little paper and eating it in two bites, making Dresden wait while he chews and swallows. Mmm, bao. He's glad the current office is so close to Jackson; he gets cranky if doesn't get his fix once a week.

"What?" he says, as innocently as he can after. "Like the one that made me lose my page?"

(ooc: boo, account!juggling fail.)

[Harry has no idea what those dumpling things are, but they smell good. Better than the BK burger he grabbed on the way over here. Oh, another reminder that crime really does pay and Harry is too noble to bend his morals even slightly. Woe is he.]

Uh, no. That was me. I thought it was funny, but then you looked ready to pull a gun, so maybe not. [That's the absolute closest to an apology Hendricks is going to get.] Come on, it's in Marcone's territory. I'm practically doing him a favor by taking care of it. [And Harry won't get paid if he can't find the thing and stop it.]

(OOC: There needs to be a DW-equivalent to the LJ Login plug-in.)

"I knew it was you, Dresden." Well, no. He'd been 99% sure it was Dresden. But it was nice to have the complete confirmation-- he wipes his hand on his napkin, and eyes the remains of his lunch. He'd been planning on saving most of the bao anyway-- had bought the two boxes for exactly that reason, half of them chocolate filled and coconut cream for pete's sake-- and the salad will keep easily. And if Dresden will stop eyeing it all, he'll feel less like he's teasing a starving puppy. The guy could really use a few extra pounds.

He pulls up the mental files, brow creasing because he doesn't have Marcone's recall or need the same masks he dresses up in-- sylphs. Well, Alexander Pope probably isn't the go-to for this one. "Air elemental in the Windy City, huh?"

He doesn't bother to say that all of Chicago is Marcone's territory. No matter what Dresden might think, he's not stupid.

[He's not staring. Really. His interest is just a little piqued over what's in those dumpling things Cujo had been enjoying so much.]

Yeah. We get them a lot in the warmer months. I think they take the Windy City thing as their right to play around here. It's all fun and games until they start off a cyclone in the middle of a public place. [He's clearly speaking from experience here.] I could get this one to leave if I could just find the damn thing.

[Harry sighs and scans the area. The urban canyon is picking up dust, but there's nothing to point towards a more supernatural influence in the area.]

Playing hide and seek with the wind. Sounded like Dresden. ...So did it's all fun and games until there's massive property damage.

Hendricks scans the crowd, drains his ginger ale while he's at it. "How many you tend to deal with a year?"

He glances at his watch. Yeah, he can make time for this.

It amazes him, sometimes. Like now, seeing it. Dresden doesn't realize what it means that he does this-- what it meant when when he handed Marcone those papers, his signature as the voice of the White Council. Lara Raith realized. Mister Vadderung realized. And the wizard just kept treating Chicago like his own playground. But on paper... well, it would be good to see how he operated, when the world wasn't at risk.

[Harry may be refocusing on his task at hand, but he's still eternally suspicious of Hendricks. Well, more like Marcone-through-Hendricks. As far as Harry's concerned, Cujo is an extension of Marcone's will, albeit a large red-headed extension. He turns the question over in his head for a long moment, trying to figure out what Marcone could gain from knowing the answer. He has no doubt every word he says will be relaid back to the Baron.

Nothing comes to mind though.] While the weather's changing, twice a month. They calm down after the seasonal shift.

[A strong wind suddenly hits, nearly knocking Harry over. He stumbles, leaning on his staff to stay upright. With his free hand, he digs into a pocket and pulls out a jar of iron fillings. Getting it open one-handed takes too long and before he can manage, the wnd dies back down.] Dammit!

He's on his feet in an instant, hand on his gun at his holster, one hand up to keep the dust from his eyes.

"And to think I was enjoying the heat wave. ...what's that?" He tips his chin at Dresden's jar.

[Harry grunts, annoyed and frustrated. Sylphs are never easy to deal with. He'd love to just hex the thing, but there are people around and that'd be a bad idea.]

Iron. If I can catch the sylph with some, it should knock it out long enough for me to banish it back to the Nevernever. [He fights to open the screw top of the jar.] Of course it gets stuck when I finally get a shot at the faerie.

Of course it does. It's been a while: he almost missed Dresden. Almost. What the hell. His blood pressure needed the exercise.

He stands down long enough to pack his lunch back up in the bag it came in, sticks his book in the bag too. He pulls his phone out of his pocket-- still turned off. Time for the test.

"Dresden." He points, a bench about ten feet away. "Go stand over there."

[Harry's eyebrows shoot up and he laughs openly.] What? Seriously? This isn't a problem you can solve by going all rabid mafioso on it. These things whip up tornadoes and hurricanes for a laugh, Cujo.

[Belatedly, he frowns and folds his arms.] And I don't take orders from you, pal.

Because he's the one approaching the problem with iron and force. Right.

"Christ, Dresden. I want to check my phone."

[Harry narrows his eyes at Hendricks, disbelieving. He's probably going to call his boss or something. Harry needs to wrap this up soon.]

Do whatever you like. Just keep out of my way while I'm wizarding. [And with that he stalks off across the park, as surly as any wizard ought to be.]

He rolls his eyes as the wizard stalks away, powering up his phone and tapping out a quick email. He's not sure where he expects someone to find him a kite and some chalk at noon in the office, but someone will manage. That's what they get paid for.

Then he calls himself an idiot, grabs his beg, and legs it after the wizard. "Dresden."

[Harry's still trying to get that damn jar open. It's like the clichéd pickle jar. Where's Murphy when he needs her?

He's... kind of surprised when Cujo comes back. He figured that their tense detente was over when he walked off.] What? What'd I just say? [It's not as combative as usual; he's simply confused by Cujo's continued presence.]

(OOC: bedtime!)

"Maybe I like this," he grunts. Manages to keep a straight face even. He's not even tempted to take the jar and open it for the guy-- watching the struggle is far too entertaining. And he needs some fun out of this. He'd really wanted to finish that chapter on HD. "Look, these things are mischievous, right?"

(ooc: night!)

Like this... [Cujo has feelings? Next you'll tell him he has a life outside Marcone's business. His brain can't quite handle that. He does see Cujo watching him with the jar and glares, turning half away so continue to fight with the top out of view. He really needs a spell for times like this. What's the Latin equivalent of 'open seasame'?] Yeah, that's the MO for all the Fae. Why?

He's going to regret this. He can already tell. He should just go back to his bench, finish his salad, and read his damn book. Johnny must be rubbing off on him, making him chase after the wizard and fall into his pool of Only To Harry Dresden like this.

"So don't go looking for the aftermath." He shrugs. "Set a trap."

Right. I'll set a trap with no thaumaturgical link to the sylph and a park full of innocents around. Do I look like MacGuyver to you? [He snorts and gives up on the iron, tucking the jab into his pocket. His masculinity can't take fighting with the damn thing anymore.

No mafia enforcer is going to tell him how to do his job. He's got an eye on the park and long cranefly legs. When the sylph comes back, he'll chase it down.]

Christ, he's as receptive as Marcone when he's got a bug up his butt and his sour face on.

"Don't make it so complicated."

He scrubs a hand at his face. He'd say he didn't get paid enough for this, but he gets paid an obscene amount.

"Look, I got someone bringing a kite for me, okay. And chalk. I don't know this shit. But that could work, right? Make some fun for it."

If you fly it, they will come?

A kite. [You thought he looked disbelieving before? This is his I Don't Believe You face.

He sighs, explosively, like the entire world exists just to annoy him.] Okay, on the off change you're not screwing with me? It's possible, I guess. If the sylph goes for the kite, could maybe lead it to a circle to contain it.

Because on a scale of one to migraine, he's the one who does impossible things all the time.

He ignores the face. It's what he does with Marcone, too. "Then let's try it." He turns, scans back toward the office buildings-- jerks his chin when he sees one of Branen's crew booking it across the intersection, a brightly colored box kite in her hands. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Okay. [This is weird and unprecedented. But really interesting. Cujo. Acting on his own. The geek in Harry just wants to take notes and investigate the hell out of this.

He leans on his staff, watching Hendricks go to meet the courier. There is indeed a kite visible in her hands. Maybe this isn't a scheme. Or maybe Harry just can't see the angle.

Either way. Interesting.]

He gets the kite-- and the text waiting for him as soon as he turns his phone on again, taking advantage of Dresden's distance to check it. Sighs and taps one out back, promising nothing's wrong and to fill Marcone in on the situation when he's back. Apparently John just can't believe he'd want to fly a kite on his lunch break.

"Here," he grunts, as soon as he's back. He's half surprised Dresden's still there. He holds the kite out. "What do you think?"

His life outside of work is a wondrous thing? The question is really who ELSE has seen those pics...

Marcone threatens to show them to Gard. It's his trump card with Hendricks.

No one ever said the man doesn't play dirty.

IKR.

It's all right. I'm sure Hendricks has his own Marcone-motivators when need be.

All are nonverbal long stares of silent disapproval. Hendricks is good like that.

He has an entire repertoire of stares

I love that's canon. EH is the best thing Butcher's written. <3

John's determination to condition himself (he's a MONSTER) & Hendricks patient omg boss. <3

And Gard being a BAMF. I want to watch the John. Hendricks, and Gard Show.

Hell, I would just watch the Gard show. With Hendricks and John the occasional guest stars.

IT'D BE LIKE A GENDERSWAPPED THREE'S COMPANY. omg. want.

omg roommates. BEST ROOMMATES EVER.

WHO WILL SHE CHOOSE, the big teddy bear or the irritable control freak? Five seasons of UST.

In the end, control freak hooks up w. the surly neighbour. Best episodes are when her boss drops by.

Just so long as the boss has mad chemistry with everyone. Surly neighbor included.

It's generally agreed that all episodes he's in should really just end with an orgy?

Very much agreed. Oh Donar, how so awesome?

The surly neighbour lives in the basement suite? Donar just plucks him out when it's dinner time?

Donar as landlord? And Harry lives in the basement apt a whole season before they know he's there?

Omg. John looking out the back window before the reveal. His "...when did we get a DOG?"

Gard: "That is not a dog. That is a small dinosaur."

"Fine. Then when did we get a DINOSAUR?"

They try to call Animal Control and Harry comes out to yell at them for trying to take his dog.

He's lived here as long as they have! What do they mean they don't believe him!