Post by Lt. Vic Valentine on May 11, 2012 0:35:02 GMT -5
Vic sat in her apartment in the dining room. In place of dining room furniture she had a grand piano and a wall off bass guitars, a few fiddles, and various types of keyboards on shelves. The lid to the piano was shut and covered in stacks of case files from work. She had to take a break and just play around.
The wall opposite her had two stacks of Marshall amps and mixer between them as well as a stereo system to hook them to when she chose to be a terrible neighbor. After a few moments of playing some Beethoven like a crazy person she slammed the lid to the keys shut and got up. A well stocked bar ran the wall paralled to the piano. She got out an absynte glass, a cube of sugar, her absinthe spoon, and a bottle of water. She placed the spoon over the glass and then sht esugar cube on the spoon. She pured absinthe over the spoon and sugar cube. After a moment she struck a match, lit the alcohol soaked sugar cube on fire. She gave it a second or to so it may catch flame nicely and then dumped it into the absinthe now in the glass, causing the drink itself to light up. Quickly she would take some water and pour it into the absinthe and then began drinking it. She took a hefty swig before smelling the drink. She always liked the bohemian method.
A moment later she pulled a drawer in the bar and pulled out what looked to be a hand rolled cigarette, however, the smell of it disagreed that it was tobacco. It was something much fresher and shared the same color as the absinthe.
She dragged, herd it in, and then exhaled. After a few puffs she took another drink of her absinthe and soon put the 'cigarette' out and then tucked it back way in the drawer.
As it was the evening, she was not in her day clothes. She wore a purple nightgown with a matching robe over it. Her living room was adorned with signed albums from ACDC's Powerage album to Elton John's Rock of the Westies album to Willie Nelson's Stardust album. In place of a mirror at her bar was a guitar signed by the late Stevie Ray Vaughan. Under it was a shotgun signed by Charlton Heston.
On the bar, in a small ornate box, were all the bullets pulled out of her body from over the years. With the two from a couple of weeks ago the box now had 12.
She set her absinthe on the piano and pulled a few papers off one of the stacks and the crime scene photos and set them where her music sheets would go. She read the pages and looked at the photos as she opened the keylid back up and began tapping away at some Frank Sinatra, not really paying attention to the playing, just doing it like it was a natural reflex.
After a moment she stopped, she had been working pretty balls to the wall lately and she only played ol Blue Eyes these days when she wanted Harvey. She grunted slightly.
They had been very tight lipped about things, of course. They were so busy with work too that they hadn't much time for eachother. They were always together at work, and sometimes work would go afterhours with them falling asleep at their desks back at HQ. She sighed and then placed her head on the piano.
"Damn it."
Vic had forgotten he was supposed to come over. She had been burying herself so much into the case files that it had slipped her mind. She went back to reading the files and began tapping out "My Kind of Town"
"This is my kind of town, Gotham is, my kind of town, Gotham is."
She shook her head laughing, exasperatedly, these cases were frying her brain. She groaned and put her head on the keys making that unmistakable cat walking around on piano keys sound.
The wall opposite her had two stacks of Marshall amps and mixer between them as well as a stereo system to hook them to when she chose to be a terrible neighbor. After a few moments of playing some Beethoven like a crazy person she slammed the lid to the keys shut and got up. A well stocked bar ran the wall paralled to the piano. She got out an absynte glass, a cube of sugar, her absinthe spoon, and a bottle of water. She placed the spoon over the glass and then sht esugar cube on the spoon. She pured absinthe over the spoon and sugar cube. After a moment she struck a match, lit the alcohol soaked sugar cube on fire. She gave it a second or to so it may catch flame nicely and then dumped it into the absinthe now in the glass, causing the drink itself to light up. Quickly she would take some water and pour it into the absinthe and then began drinking it. She took a hefty swig before smelling the drink. She always liked the bohemian method.
A moment later she pulled a drawer in the bar and pulled out what looked to be a hand rolled cigarette, however, the smell of it disagreed that it was tobacco. It was something much fresher and shared the same color as the absinthe.
She dragged, herd it in, and then exhaled. After a few puffs she took another drink of her absinthe and soon put the 'cigarette' out and then tucked it back way in the drawer.
As it was the evening, she was not in her day clothes. She wore a purple nightgown with a matching robe over it. Her living room was adorned with signed albums from ACDC's Powerage album to Elton John's Rock of the Westies album to Willie Nelson's Stardust album. In place of a mirror at her bar was a guitar signed by the late Stevie Ray Vaughan. Under it was a shotgun signed by Charlton Heston.
On the bar, in a small ornate box, were all the bullets pulled out of her body from over the years. With the two from a couple of weeks ago the box now had 12.
She set her absinthe on the piano and pulled a few papers off one of the stacks and the crime scene photos and set them where her music sheets would go. She read the pages and looked at the photos as she opened the keylid back up and began tapping away at some Frank Sinatra, not really paying attention to the playing, just doing it like it was a natural reflex.
After a moment she stopped, she had been working pretty balls to the wall lately and she only played ol Blue Eyes these days when she wanted Harvey. She grunted slightly.
They had been very tight lipped about things, of course. They were so busy with work too that they hadn't much time for eachother. They were always together at work, and sometimes work would go afterhours with them falling asleep at their desks back at HQ. She sighed and then placed her head on the piano.
"Damn it."
Vic had forgotten he was supposed to come over. She had been burying herself so much into the case files that it had slipped her mind. She went back to reading the files and began tapping out "My Kind of Town"
"This is my kind of town, Gotham is, my kind of town, Gotham is."
She shook her head laughing, exasperatedly, these cases were frying her brain. She groaned and put her head on the keys making that unmistakable cat walking around on piano keys sound.
