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

One minute he's got a forkful of salad in his mouth, reading about Creeley and HD and savouring the way two people can mix their words, and the next there's a wind from nowhere-- in the opposite direction of the gentle breeze that's been cooling his face-- and he's lost his page and a bite of chicken.

The underside of his watch face starts to tingle, like when he was a kid adjusting the tv antenna and Mrs. Kovacks upstairs was vacuuming-- magic. He puts his fork down casually, leaves the chicken in the dirt, and opens his book again-- A Note on Canadian Poetry, this time. Not that he's reading it. He slides his phone onto the page, leans back, starts scanning the crowd in the reflective surface, stretches out one leg so he can get at the gun at his ankle if he needs to.

So much for a quiet lunch.

[Harry's not a PI for nothing and takes note of how Hendricks shifts after his fun little spell. The big guy is just a bit too cool, his posture a bit too awkward-looking, and his eyes just barely not moving enough on the page to be reading.

Stars and stones, and people call Harry paranoid. He's got nothing on the Outfit's upper hierarchy.]

[Harry sighs, loud and dramatic, and trudges over Chicago's Lawn to Hendricks.] Hang fire, Cujo. There's kids around, let's not give 'em a show. [He pauses, then smirks.] It'd look bad if I kicked your ass in front of the entire city.

Yup. There he is. He turns his phone off before it goes the way of the last four he's lost to Dresden's errant antitechnology field. At least he stuck his recent edits in Evernote.

"Dresden." He doesn't bother to hide his sigh. No point in making the wizard wonder if he's glad to see him. Heh. Like he'd wonder. His eyes narrow despite himself. It's like being in middle school all the time. "You lost or something?"

[Stars, Harry's gotten warmer welcomes from the White Council. For a second, he thinks about turning around and walking away, but he's never given up a chance to be a nuisance, has he?]

No. Working a job. [He plants his staff and leans on it.] What about you? Marcone let you off the leash? [He tilts his head, looking at the book and starts to make a crack about it but... What the hell is Cujo reading? He frowns.]

He sees Dresden looking and turns the book over, hiding the spine and cover. What, he can't be an asshole back? Maybe the guy'll take a hint.

...Probably not. It's Dresden.

He grunts instead. "I get lunch breaks, Dresden. What kind of case?"

Not that he cares what Dresden does or anything. Not that he doesn't know the skinny idiot handles cases every month that don't get him blown up or set on fire or drag Hendricks and his boss and the whole city in after him. But you don't survive a couple Dresden encounters without learning to ask what might be around the next tree, waiting to eat your face. And this close to the boss...

(ooc: I'm headed to bed! Will be around in the morning!)

[Cujo autonomously asking a question? That's impossible. He must be on orders from the boss to collect information. Harry's spine stiffens a bit and he casts a look around the park, trying to spot any other button men that might be around.]

None of the good Baron's business. Unless he's to blame for the wyldfae getting antsy. Then he and I are going to have words.

[It's possible. Maybe that book Cujo's hiding is a how-to guide for summoning sylphs. You never know, and with Marcone (and, by extension, Hendricks) it's always good to go for maximum suspicion.]

(ooc: Okay! Goodnight!)

...Right. Middle school. It's all coming back to him again. Dresden is as touchy as a thirteen year old with a new haircut. Why is he surprised?

Oh wait. He's not.

Hendricks snorts, flips his book open and spins it back facing the right way, searching for his page. "Pretty sure wyldfae aren't your jurisdiction, Dresden." Oh his life. He says stuff like that. Straight face and everything. Not that Marcone's had talks with the wyldfae lately or anything anyway, but Dresden's too much fun when he gets all indignant, and it's none of his business, anyway.

And it's Hendricks's lunch break. He's not on the clock. He takes a drink of ginger ale to hide his smile.

[Harry is being very mature right now, thank you. Notice how he hasn't set anything around Hendricks on fire yet? He's grown.]

In Chicago, everything is in my jurisdiction. [He's getting growly, like Mister does when Mouse forgets who's the head of the household.] Just because I left my cloak at doesn't mean I won't break out the Wardenly whoop-ass on you.

[He leans over to see what Cujo's reading.] Collected Essays of... What, are you hiding a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition in the dust jacket there, Cujo?

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!)

no subject

okay, gotta ask, who is that AMAZING PB?

Lee Reherman, plus Photoshop

Excellent selection. 8D

http://is.gd/XntAtW Sometimes. ...Some other times we never speak of. http://is.gd/jg5gHU

.... ohmigawd. :dying:

We can only assume there was copious amounts of alcohol involved. And possibly the fae.

He looks so *happy* about it.

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?

He looks so happy about it.