08 Everything is Interconnected

[has_signed_on]

So what will happen today, hmm? It's almost so exciting I want tomorrow to begin just so I can know. There's games I've been playing, ones that I know I'll win, but that's all old and just a bit boring.

Yet I still want to know.

I realize spinning in this chair like a mechanical whirlpool won't do much, but it's not stopping me. Maybe I'll ask someone today how to cure this horrible disease called thrill. Or, I'll see what their sad little answer is!

[Any and all swivel chair spinning (And the laughter that's been coming with it the entire time) comes to an immediate halt, miraculously without evoking the wrath of Bad Ending 6, as Izaya moves to the window to overlook everything. It seems he's conveniently relocated to the top floor for greater opportunity watching purposes.]

Comments

Almost action?

[alwaysaboom.livejournal.com]

[Someone angry may be coming up to see you. In fact, you can probably feel the anger from here, and your spinning chair shall not dissuade her one bit.]

And then I posted to you. Twice. While you're gone. We'll be tagging forever.

[seahorsecaesar.livejournal.com]

For purposes of dramatic convenience, all doors have fogged glass windows. All of them. The better for making mysterious silhouettes of buxom broads in dire need of the assistance of a big, strong man to help them in their time of need.

But that's what some men are there for, right?

One such shadow appears, a very spiky haired head and shoulders cocked just so. The door opens with the most ominous of creaks, and you can almost hear the swanky sax music play as a shadowed figure stands in the door.

I'm not much of a man, and sometimes, even I need a little help in certain matters of the utmost importance. I can't go to just anyone, no. Someone like me needed someone like him, someone with certain skills, certain abilities that set him apart from the rest. He's not so much a man as he is a monster, hidden in a toothy smile that entices and lures as much as it threatens. I needed him...

to solve a problems.

And if looks could kill, this queen could. Delicate glasses rested on a narrow nose, rouged cheeks creating an artificial daintiness on a high cheek-boned face. The only thing between him and God was a long slinky number with a plunging neck and cut high up on his thigh. Stilettos add what his creator didn't, a sway to the hips and just a little extra height. A black gloved hand rested on his hip, eyes almost glaring at the man behind the desk.

I knew he could help me, but he had to prove that to me. Prove he was good enough for me.

"I hear you're the man to see about problems," I said, watchin him close for any reaction. Any twitch, any break in that false face and fake smile I knew he'd turn on me.