Harrier Du Bois (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
horrifictie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
jigokulogs2022-03-06 10:07 pm
horrifictie) wrote in jigokulogs2022-03-06 10:07 pm
open: boogie nights
Who ⬤ Harry and the unfortunate people he crosses paths with
What ⬤ Substories and Begging
When ⬤ Mainly the first week of arrival
Where ⬤ Around town
Content Warnings ⬤ Mentions of drug use
I. Money, please! (night after the partying)
[ Harry is in a bind, one which he only thinks is fifty percent his fault. When you break down the math that percentage makes a lot of sense! He had a fifty percent chance of doubling his money, and a fifty percent chance of losing almost all of it. He just fell on the wrong side of fifty because the fates are cruel. The more logical part of his headspace urged him to not gamble it all, but they couldn't stop him from gambling period. History repeats and he's in the same predicament as when he woke up to reality for the first time a week or so ago.
Luckily, he has a time-tested approach to getting more cash. One he readily employs as he looks out for people who look like they at least have some spare change and asks: ]
Hey, you look well to do. I'm a little down on my luck at the moment - can I have some money?
[ Who wouldn't say yes to a 40-something man with *incredible* handlebar facial hair who looks like he's coming down from a day long hangover? Please say yes. ]
Substory: High Definition
[ The rabbit's drugs are surprisingly potent considering his tolerance. The first time he took it he rationalized it as doing it for the advancement of scientific research. The surface level truth was he wanted a hit after being sober for almost a couple weeks. His body still aches from the gunshot to his hip, but that pain is flattened by the first time he takes the drug. When he reports his survey and asks if he could get more, the rabbit tells him all he has to do is report his experiences again.
The next drug he takes turns the whole world black and white, no different than the grainy film reels he (apparently) loves to watch. A voice in his head tells him of the low-budget adaptations of Dick Mullen novels looking just like this, steeped in a gritty *noir* aura that is irresistible to anyone with a passion for genre fiction. It seems only fitting then that he should play up the part. Digging around in the trash nets him a musty old brown overcoat (with a few faded stains on it that he doesn't notice) and his meager cash is enough to buy a cheap novelty detective's fedora to sit on his head.
With that he takes to the streets, notepad and pen in hand, approaching people with a simple "Evening. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?"
The yokai he asks twists her head to a 180 degree to meet him, back still turned, and barks a laugh in his face before continuing on her way. Harry shrugs, knowing this is part of the process, then looks to his next target -- you. ] Hello. I need to ask you some questions, if you have a few minutes to spare?
Substory: Sweet Jacket
[ Now this man's jacket is not *nearly* as sweet as Harry's FUCK THE WORLD leather jacket (which, sadly, did not make the trip to Hell with him) but he can respect a man's right to his fashion choices. As such, he volunteers to chaperone the man across the bridge as a bodyguard. They don't make it more than half-way before three men rush up to them and threaten to kick Mr. Cool Jacket's ass. No way to get past them either. Luckily, Harry has a plan guaranteed to work: ]
Look, over there!
[ Apologies to the poor soul he is pointing at - if you stop he's about to say something *very hurtful* about your fashion choices as a diversion. It's enough for the three men to look with him, even if they have no idea what the big deal is. ]
[ ooc: if you want a special prompt or to plan anything out, feel free to PM me. would especially be interested in an atrocious karaoke thread with one or two people who want to party. ]
What ⬤ Substories and Begging
When ⬤ Mainly the first week of arrival
Where ⬤ Around town
Content Warnings ⬤ Mentions of drug use
I. Money, please! (night after the partying)
[ Harry is in a bind, one which he only thinks is fifty percent his fault. When you break down the math that percentage makes a lot of sense! He had a fifty percent chance of doubling his money, and a fifty percent chance of losing almost all of it. He just fell on the wrong side of fifty because the fates are cruel. The more logical part of his headspace urged him to not gamble it all, but they couldn't stop him from gambling period. History repeats and he's in the same predicament as when he woke up to reality for the first time a week or so ago.
Luckily, he has a time-tested approach to getting more cash. One he readily employs as he looks out for people who look like they at least have some spare change and asks: ]
Hey, you look well to do. I'm a little down on my luck at the moment - can I have some money?
[ Who wouldn't say yes to a 40-something man with *incredible* handlebar facial hair who looks like he's coming down from a day long hangover? Please say yes. ]
Substory: High Definition
[ The rabbit's drugs are surprisingly potent considering his tolerance. The first time he took it he rationalized it as doing it for the advancement of scientific research. The surface level truth was he wanted a hit after being sober for almost a couple weeks. His body still aches from the gunshot to his hip, but that pain is flattened by the first time he takes the drug. When he reports his survey and asks if he could get more, the rabbit tells him all he has to do is report his experiences again.
The next drug he takes turns the whole world black and white, no different than the grainy film reels he (apparently) loves to watch. A voice in his head tells him of the low-budget adaptations of Dick Mullen novels looking just like this, steeped in a gritty *noir* aura that is irresistible to anyone with a passion for genre fiction. It seems only fitting then that he should play up the part. Digging around in the trash nets him a musty old brown overcoat (with a few faded stains on it that he doesn't notice) and his meager cash is enough to buy a cheap novelty detective's fedora to sit on his head.
With that he takes to the streets, notepad and pen in hand, approaching people with a simple "Evening. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?"
The yokai he asks twists her head to a 180 degree to meet him, back still turned, and barks a laugh in his face before continuing on her way. Harry shrugs, knowing this is part of the process, then looks to his next target -- you. ] Hello. I need to ask you some questions, if you have a few minutes to spare?
Substory: Sweet Jacket
[ Now this man's jacket is not *nearly* as sweet as Harry's FUCK THE WORLD leather jacket (which, sadly, did not make the trip to Hell with him) but he can respect a man's right to his fashion choices. As such, he volunteers to chaperone the man across the bridge as a bodyguard. They don't make it more than half-way before three men rush up to them and threaten to kick Mr. Cool Jacket's ass. No way to get past them either. Luckily, Harry has a plan guaranteed to work: ]
Look, over there!
[ Apologies to the poor soul he is pointing at - if you stop he's about to say something *very hurtful* about your fashion choices as a diversion. It's enough for the three men to look with him, even if they have no idea what the big deal is. ]
[ ooc: if you want a special prompt or to plan anything out, feel free to PM me. would especially be interested in an atrocious karaoke thread with one or two people who want to party. ]
no subject
Oh, is that all?
[Never mind then, though, because he's been a menace to society for worse reasons than wearing this jacket. He lifts the bottle back to his lips for a swig, but he isn't turning away from this exchange just yet. What is the goal here, should he start swinging, and if so at whomst...]
All of your new friends look in need of a different type of conversation, and pal, you don't seem like the type of man who can talk the talk.
[Just at a glance, no offense, there's a hierarchy of dangerous fellas on this bridge right now and Harry is not at the top. Andrey raises a loose fist and makes a show of faux-punching himself in the jaw, complete with popping sound effect, in case it were unclear what kind of conversation he's talking about.]
Well? Want me to oblige?
no subject
AUTHORITY - You are not on his level. Good news: neither are the thugs threatening you. Let him do his *thing*.
Harry clears his throat and takes a couple steps back, gripping his sweet jacket companion by the wrist and forcing him to move with him. ]
Help yourself.
[ THE THUGS - The men roll back their shoulder, the bald one among them addressing Andrey with a click of the tongue. "We don't have any problem with you. Walk away and you won't wake up sore tomorrow." ]
no subject
Promise?
[Which, like, he says — but he hastens forward into the fray anyway a heartbeat later. The bald one is first; Andrey smashes the bottle into his temple and his forehead into his nose, which is enough to drop the guy and leave Andrey open to get punched in the back of the head.
He gets punched in the back of the head. The scuffle ("scuffle") that ensues is more of an artless brawl than a demonstration of polished skill, but only one of them is brandishing the broken end of a liquor bottle — so it isn't much of a contest.
With one thug left, as Andrey gets kicked in the chest and staggers back closer to Harry-and-jacket-guy for a moment, he gives them both a wild-eyed look, and—] It is an eyesore. That jacket.
[no offense, anyway, give him a min]
no subject
EMPATHY - You cringe with the smash of the bottle, the sound it makes reverberating through your skin with a sharp crawl, and suddenly feel very bad for the men. It doesn't even matter that he gets hit in the back of the head, not when he seems to be *enjoying* himself through it all.
COMPOSURE - You're able to step back and move your sweet jacket friend with you, averting collision with the wild eye man. But that comment turns you cold.
INLAND EMPIRE - Oh fuck. This guy is on another level entirely.
HALF LIGHT - Don't run. If you run it will be so much worse for you than staying. ]
Fuck, fuck. [ He mutters under his breath, feet forcefully planted to the spot and watching the man continue on the brawl. Harry clacks his teeth and looks back to the man in the sweet jacket. He should stay, but this poor sap with soft hands that haven't worked a hard day? This guy needs to get out of here. He leans back and in a hushed voice. ] Kid, *run*. Now.
[ SWEET JACKET - The man's eyes widen and he looks to the other side of the bridge, a whole new world waiting for him. Or, at the very least, the other side of town. He swallows dry, glancing between Harry and the men fighting, and takes a leap of faith. His sneakers kick off the ground and he books it, sprinting with legs on fire to get to the other side. Will he make it to the promised land? ]