Mɪᴛᴄʜᴇʟʟ Hᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
viced) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-03-20 11:45 pm
viced) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-03-20 11:45 pm
But take the spade from my hands
WHO: MITCHELL HUNDRED and RICK BRADBURY
WHERE: a r o u n d
WHEN: March 21st
WHAT: Friends having dinner
WARNINGS: stupidest fucking friends
There were only certain times that a one Mitchell Hundred agreed to do something normal. Like having dinner with a friend. Mitchell didn't do normal things, more content to stuff whatever was free and accessible into his mouth along with another three or four cups of coffee, in the middle of reviewing papers, work, or proposals. Now that he wasn't the Mayor of the City, though, he was finding he had more time. Oh, he was still busy. He was still damn good at being busy, but the two jobs he had were not really enough to keep him occupied like City Hall had. He could only review his designs so much, still rusty from too long not designing buildings, the last thing he'd put together before this had been --
Jesus, he didn't need to think about that. Not here.
This was stupid, anyway, saying alright to dinner with a friend was one thing, but he did it so rarely that he intimately understood that people would think it weird. Then again, people meaning imports, here. He wasn't a public figure anymore. He didn't have an office, or media appearances, or people watching his every move like a hawk. There was something...invigorating about that, even though he itched to be back and doing something important, it was nice to...fade for even just a short time. Nice to be out of the public eye and someplace were he could satisfy his vices and needs without having to worry about who was watching, who was there with the camera he had to subtly shut off, and who was just waiting to see if he'd slip up. He didn't, of course, he was meticulous and careful, for that reason alone.
But here he was, tapping a finger against his arm while he sucked down a cigarette, stupidly having agreed to actually taking his former bodyguard out for his birthday. Thankfully, by now, his arm had (mostly) healed, although it still ached from Ace's attack, animal wounds and bites a familiar pain in his (proverbial) ass.
WHERE: a r o u n d
WHEN: March 21st
WHAT: Friends having dinner
WARNINGS: stupidest fucking friends
There were only certain times that a one Mitchell Hundred agreed to do something normal. Like having dinner with a friend. Mitchell didn't do normal things, more content to stuff whatever was free and accessible into his mouth along with another three or four cups of coffee, in the middle of reviewing papers, work, or proposals. Now that he wasn't the Mayor of the City, though, he was finding he had more time. Oh, he was still busy. He was still damn good at being busy, but the two jobs he had were not really enough to keep him occupied like City Hall had. He could only review his designs so much, still rusty from too long not designing buildings, the last thing he'd put together before this had been --
Jesus, he didn't need to think about that. Not here.
This was stupid, anyway, saying alright to dinner with a friend was one thing, but he did it so rarely that he intimately understood that people would think it weird. Then again, people meaning imports, here. He wasn't a public figure anymore. He didn't have an office, or media appearances, or people watching his every move like a hawk. There was something...invigorating about that, even though he itched to be back and doing something important, it was nice to...fade for even just a short time. Nice to be out of the public eye and someplace were he could satisfy his vices and needs without having to worry about who was watching, who was there with the camera he had to subtly shut off, and who was just waiting to see if he'd slip up. He didn't, of course, he was meticulous and careful, for that reason alone.
But here he was, tapping a finger against his arm while he sucked down a cigarette, stupidly having agreed to actually taking his former bodyguard out for his birthday. Thankfully, by now, his arm had (mostly) healed, although it still ached from Ace's attack, animal wounds and bites a familiar pain in his (proverbial) ass.