open RP

[moralimperative]

An all-purpose post for all of your devot!RP needs. - post a prompt/starter/anything - pick a character for me to reply with (or don't) - ??? - profit!

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discussed.

[captainfuckingmagic]

[ Harry was hurrying. That wasn't really an uncommon state with him, it's just that normally he didn't really have such a purpose to his hurry. Normally it was more a general, bumbling type hurry - today, there was intent to it. It was weird, having intent, having purpose. What wasn't weird was the source of the purpose. It was always Perry, wasn't it? If not Perry, then Harmony. If neither one of them, some dead person, and given that as far was he was concerned right now, Perry was probably dying and Harmony was incommunicado, perhaps it was all three situations at once. That was just a horrifying thought. It didn't really help things at all, made him try and hurry more, made him trip over his own feet, his shoelaces, forget that his hoodie was on inside out because after the call in the early morning/late night he hadn't had the presence of mind to put it on correctly. (And to be fair, he barely did anyway. The interruption only provided an excuse for the normal. Yay.)

But it wasn't hard to make it to the right location, looking for Perry like his very own life depended on it - and this was how he did most things that mattered to him, with absolutely everything he fucking had, which was what made him tenacious and amazing and such a fucking easy target when viewed through the wrong lens. But, luckily, it paid off, because there was Perry, lying in a bed, looking a bit worse off but beeping a steady enough bass line to be moderately reassuring. ]

Hey, you know it's your turn to clean the filters at work.

[vanshrike]

[This was really what he deserved, leaving Harry out of jobs the idiot had agreed to in the first place. LA had been ordinary before Harry Lockhart arrived to fuck everything up; his very existence brought cheap paperback novels to life, pontifical villains and all. Perry glared halfheartedly at the intruder upon his drug-fueled haze-- on the one hand if he was lucky and not injured quite as badly as he felt, Harry being present meant he might talk his way out of spending any longer in this hellhole than necessary. On the other, it was particularly difficult to give a shit at present where he was so long as it meant he didn't have to move. He pressed one hand against the throbbing in his head, ignoring the twinge of an IV he didn't care enough about to be cautious of.]

Blow me. You never remember them when it's your turn anyway.

[captainfuckingmagic]

[ Yes, well, his general ineptitude and shit of that nature doesn't and has never necessarily precluded him from actually caring about whatever it is he's haphazardly trying to work on or effectively putting in more danger by default of his very presence. By this point he just accepted glares as a form of slightly affectionate greeting: if you bothered enough to feel strongly enough to glare at him, then he considered that a good thing. ]

Yeah, well, you always tell me I don't do it right anyway. It saves time, just waiting until you do it.

[ He wanders a little closer though, because in as much as he might not be entirely fond of settings like this, he's not going to just pussy out now that he's actually here. ] You okay?