if you've had a dose of a freaky ghost

[idesof]

WHO: James Patrick March & YOU
WHERE: Maurtia Falls, Nonah
WHEN: Month of...March
WHAT: Absinthe and general merrymaking
WARNINGS: Standard for March, will update as needed; if you're tagging in and haven't stopped by this just yet I would be ever so grateful if you'd take a quick look and drop the details.





MAURTIA FALLS 002;

[He doesn't spend much time in the house. Not visibly, at any rate. But ah! This morning, James Patrick March, in all his usual old timey attire, not a single button out of place, can be found in the kitchen. Making coffee. Or so it seems, because as soon as the entire pot is brewed? March just makes an expectant face at it. The dark brew promptly turns green, like an odd sort of blushing that has no idea what the color red is. Anyone who knows their liquor should be able to tell what it is. Because yes, he did just brew coffee for the sole purpose of having a pot of absinthe. At like eight in the damn morning. Very reasonable. After all, it's always drinking time somewhere. And whoever's lucky ("""lucky""") enough to walk in on this is, of course, greeted with a broad smile, the pot of absinthe held midair as he asks:]

Would you care for some?

[Get crunk before work, yo.]

MAURTIA FALLS 002; locked to The Countess

[Being able to see auras and turn drinks to absinthe is great, really, and so is having his ghost appeal. But. But. There's something missing and fortunately he's self-aware to know exactly what that is. As he sits in his room and mopes (he's not rich! he's not dead! he's not the world's greatest serial killer WHY IS EVERYTHING AWFUL WHEN HE THINKS ABOUT IT FOR TWO SECONDS), window open so he can smoke comfortably, his thoughts a mess (nothing weird there) of his beautiful wife. The hotel he left behind. How he's even alive at this juncture. The weird device he was given that reminded him of Iris and Liz's efforts with free Wifi and Sally's love of being the ghost in the machine. He's sure he could figure it out if he wanted to, but why would he want to. Modern times were so uncomfortable, which meant they weren't worth too much consideration. Like hell if he'd stop being the guy more than content to sit down and talk to people over a drink. Like the good ol' days!

Moping is interrupted, though. He thinks he hears a voice. A familiar voice. Dismisses it for a moment, then realizes he's never been the sort to hear voices in his pining (he never really had that option, living together and all). So he waits, stops smoking. He smells her, doesn't he? Arguably that's absurd, but...he knows. He's always known where to find her (again, he thinks, the Cortez had something to do with his Spider-Man sense regarding her). So he waits longer, quietly moving to press his ear against the door (as if she'll pass by or just open it and give him a withering stare). Waiting, waiting, then listening to the sound of the pipes. Water kicking in. A shower.

Well. If he's wrong, he can ghost back out with no one any the wiser. He isn't wrong, though, he realizes the moment he exerts some effort to just sort of be in this particular bathroom. He isn't wrong because even behind a curtain, she can't hide her aura. Not from him. He's just so pleased, so giddy, he doesn't even bother to think of another option. Of waiting more (he's waited long enough for her, Goddamnit), or even until she's through. He just tosses back the shower curtain because he's never seen Psycho before, face going from moderately pleased to the hugest, doofiest, happiest grin ever as confirmation hits him in the form of actual showering wife.]

It's you!

[Welcome, Hero. Your husband is here, too, and he's 110% Still Into You.]

MUH-MUH-MUH MY MUH-NONAH;

[Why is he in Nonah? Why aren't you in Nonah, God. Dorian had said Nonah had better imPort PR, so it seemed worth checking out. Because while other people probably think Dorian Gray is a jerk who shouldn't be listened to, March thinks of him as a jerk who should totally be listened to. So he's in Nonah for the day, wearing his to-the-nines old timey attire, with his murder cane that looks just like a normal cane, giving the place a full check out. Why not, right?

He actually causes a bit of a scene at a local coffee shop. In a good way, of course! Three tables end up pushed together, the group clearly content, a delightful noisy crowd that seems to only welcome more, judging by the looks of it. A group of strangers come together over lunch breaks, breaks from studies, the works to talk, to laugh, to swap stories, all equally heard and equally sharing. Aside from the baby in the high chair, of course, the most that little lady does is chew on things and drool, which March finds adorable. But all good things must come to an end, and eventually duty calls elsewhere. So if you walk in on the end of so clearly a good thing, people smiling and regretfully having to get back to the ol' grind or finish up my essay or get home to fix dinner, well! March isn't going anywhere just yet, and after thorough and properly courteous good-byes, if you seem in need of seat and look at him long enough (like, two seconds long enough) well lucky you!]

Care for some company?

[u could get some absinthe in ur frappe and who doesn't want that]

WILDCARD;

[Got something in mind???? Want a starter??? Do it tell me Shia LaBeouf this puppy up.]

Comments

[callhousekeeping]

[Countess has known her husband (the first one, much less dull than the second) is here. As much as he has a sense for her, she has one for him, probably because they spent so long inhabiting the same building, with him constantly chasing her around. Also, there are glasses of absinthe fucking everywhere, so she just leapt to a conclusion.

She knows she can't hide from him forever, at least not without money to go buy some secret little nest of her own somewhere, one that he can't haunt literally or figuratively. But for the moment, she's just been avoiding him by... staying in her room. Away from everyone, actually, while she acquaints herself with this place, and with the paperwork she's been given, reading it over and over.

One thing she does not know is that James is about to yank the shower curtain back. And since surprising her always goes so well, Countess immediately chucks a full bottle of shampoo at his head, defensive and ready to rip out a throat if she needs to.

Which she might. Because it's Jimmy.

She drips and looks frustrated, glaring at him.]

Christ, James, what the hell is wrong with you? I thought I got you to stop doing this shit sixty years ago!

[idesof]

[Goes so well indeed! The shampoo bottle turned husband missile lands with a dull thud as it bounces off his thick skull and a surprised grunt as his hand leaves the curtain to rub at the spot she hit. Like it's an actual thing that hurts instead of just a bottle to the noggin. Which it does hurt, in the way it hurts his ghost ego; he hadn't had time to go all ghosty, and back home that likely wouldn't have been a problem. Ah, the troubles of mortality: one cannot just rely on their afterlife haunting abilities instead of actually dodging such blows.

So the moment's pause on his end is less actual hurt and more, huh, look at that, he can take a hit and now Countess knows it (which is good and bad, but that's par for the course in their relationship). The moment's pause before he notices that glare and does his best for a properly shamed face despite the fact they both know better.]

Darling. [With the patented "did nothing wrong, doesn't understand the wrongdoing here" whine.] I was excited. Feels like an age since I last saw you!

[It's...been two days..............]

[callhousekeeping]

[Well, she does now know that she can beat him with a bottle of shampoo, if necessary. Always good to have a secondary tactic up one's sleeve. But she assumes that, if she's alive again, he is too, since they were pretty equally dead and stuck in the Cortez the last time she checked.

She sighs and slides a hand through her hair, turns off the shower and continues to drip as she crosses her arms over her chest, watching him like she thinks he's even more stupid than he is. The fact that she doesn't even reach for a towel is almost a dare, touch me, asshole, and see what happens.]

It has not been an age. And even if it had been an age, I was in the shower. Even you have better manners than that, or at least you used to. Has being alive again made you lose your mind?

Nonah

[enucleation]

[ Kaneki just wanted a coffee. In fact, he didn't even know if this coffee shop was any good; it was the first time he visited it, and as usual Kaneki asks for black coffee, no sugar, no cream.

Out of paranoia, he looks around for a moment and his eyes sure meet March's, but he is polite enough to look away because it's rude to stare - but March decides to move and approach him. ]

Ah- sure. Go ahead.

[ no absinthe pls he can't have that ]

[idesof]

[Be still his heart. Seriously, he's just stumbling over all sorts of interesting auras lately. So maybe he's away from his hotel and his wife is no longer technically bound to him, okay, but these auras though. He sits across from Ken with his own coffee (half gone, lukewarm, black and plain as well, ignored mostly), smile small but pleasant. Nothing too overeager now, gotta play the game properly.]

Do you always prefer your coffee plain and black? [Haha inside "I can see your aura" jokes, what a good day.] I've never found a better way to take it, truth be told.

[enucleation]

[ march calm yo tits

Kaneki is polite as always, not minding the other striking up conversation. He will talk right back and offer a smile and look how cute it is, it's as if kaneki's soul is white and pure. ]

It's the only way I can have it, really. [ March can assume Kaneki is making an hyperbole about how much he likes black coffee, or go ahead and see that something is up. Because it is. ]

I'm Ken Kaneki. [ he offers a small nod ]

u gonna go blind from all those absinthe-flavored frappes dude

[unwiseheart]

[ He had been looking, of course. A crowd that big was eye-drawing and even someone who's typically withdrawn, like Nicolas here, can't help but watch them. It's just unfortunate he doesn't look away quick enough to avoid March's attention. He'd already claimed his own table, a far smaller one, by the window, but close enough to be called next to March's three tables.

Being caught staring leaves him momentarily flustered and he looks away despite being caught, mumbling words that come out with a clear Russian accent, ]

Uh, no, no, I was just-- [ Something something. He sighs at his coffee (black, very little cream) and peeks up again, grimacing. ] Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. You had quite a crowd of friends there.

and get hairy palms?

[idesof]

[Russian accent? No problem. March is new, he has yet to have any bad experiences here with Russians. Not that it really matters, not when the Russian in question is positively radiating black. One doesn't give up on a cute boy just because he's shy or awkward, March doesn't give up a dark heart just because it's...well, there are no reasons for March to give up a dark heart. He'll even abduct families if he has to. So clearly Nicolas has no reason to stay sitting so far away, nothing horrible can happen.]

Had being the key word. [Past tense!!! But the present's still got promise, judging from the way March tilts his head, ever-so-interested in this new fellow. Perhaps it's easy to tell why he attracted a crowd in the first place. He just gives off that vibe of a people person.] Do you live around here?

no that's lycanthropy

[unwiseheart]

[ March may have no problems, but so soon after the occupation, he's gotten a few wary stares already. ]

Around here? Oh, no. [ Nicolas lives absolutely nowhere, but he does a good job of concealing that general wear and tear that someone who's only just met likely won't guess. If he looks shabby, it may be because he always does. ] Passing through. I just like the bakery they use here...

[ And he can't but note something odd about this man himself, though being friendly to strangers was hardly worth taking a closer look yet. It's enough to keep Nicolas' own interest, though, in spite of the awkwardness before, and he turns in his seat, just enough towards where March is seated, to make it easier to chat. ]

What about you? Native to Nonah?

Nonah!

[beneathbluerafters]

[ Klarion's taken a day trip to Nonah for a change of scenery, and ducked into the nearest cafe to get his caffeine fix. He makes eye contact with March for a split second as he lingers near the edge of the room, avoiding the press of the crowd and savouring his drink (which is more sugar and cream than coffee). The sudden invitation gives him pause, and he raises an eyebrow, staring at March as if the guy's just grown a cabbage for a second head.

... Then again, this place is super crowded, it's cold out, and there's literally nowhere else to sit. Mr. Olde-timey gets a scrutinizing look, and finally a nod.]

... I suppose not. You're not allergic to cats, are you? [S'up, Teekl's head is poking out the neck of his hoodie sweater. If you are, I'll thank you not to sneeze on my drink.

[idesof]

[In a sea of red and blue, there's a purple that's stood out to March ever since he caught it. Well. A purple surrounding blue. He shouldn't be too surprised, really, but that's still. Blue. At least he didn't have a red aura, that would have been a nightmare.

Fortunately, he hadn't paid Klarion any overt attention, had the crowd about to help in that endeavor, but he'd hoped for a chance. So, naturally, when presented by way of those normal folks buggering off and eye contact he takes it readily. He hadn't expected a cat, of all things, but said kitty doesn't get more than an eyebrow raise and smile. He's seen weirder, by far. Like Klarion. No matter how awfully behaved an animal is, it would take great skills to register as truly abnormal. He's not quite sure about blue people, however. Oh well! Life is nothing without some risk.]

Not at all! Quite a darling you've got there, ah. [March wiggles his fingers in greeting to the cat as he sits, his own coffee plain, black, halfway gone, lukewarm, mostly ignored.] I'd hope you don't often have issues with others sneezing on your drinks.

[beneathbluerafters]

[At least he isn't staring, Klarion will give March that much. He doesn't go to Nonah very often, so he's attracting more attention than he does in his usual haunts, and all the sidelong looks are getting on his nerves and making him irritable. He sits down opposite March and gives Teekl a few kittyscritches between the ears as he unzips his sweater, letting the cat settle on his lap under the table.]

I haven't yet, but it's not the sort of thing one wants to take chances with. And he doesn't enjoy being patronized. [ Klarion takes a sip of his drink, which by all rights should be sugary enough to put his pancreas into shock, and eyes March over the edge of the mug. ] Do you often sit with total strangers?

Nonah!

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Well Chilton was in Nonah because of a psychiatrist conference that he had managed to squeeze himself into -- invite only, you understand, highly prestigious. But as the morning waned into early afternoon, he found himself wandering the charming streets of this North Carolinian city in search of some quality coffee. One would think that a collection of the nation's most prominent psychiatrists would warrant for decent coffee, but that seemed not to be the case -- and so Chilton was on his own.]

Oh -- [March's presence had surprised him as much as the invitation for company. Chilton hadn't sense March present, in his space, until the man spoke. He had been glancing around the room and surely had made eye contact with March, but the psychiatrist had been too preoccupied with his thoughts to take notice.] -- Ah, why, of course. Please... Have a seat.

[Looking at his new company now, Chilton had no idea how he missed the man earlier.]

[idesof]

[Ah, the siren song of prestigious (likely pretentious) invite only soirees.

If there are any lingering looks from this new fellow, March doesn't seem to notice. He sits across the way from him with his lukewarm, mostly ignored, half cup of black coffee without a hint of hesitation. Not from any undue sort of familiarity, no vibes of hey old buddy old pal, it's just a confident way of holding himself. Like no matter how this particular meeting goes, he'll come out just fine.]

Lovely day, isn't it? I'd hoped it would be. Good weather makes for a proper first impression, in my experience. [And then, with the same ease he'd sat and so casually announced his newness (at least to the city of Nonah), March extends his hand across the table. The one with the wedding band, not the obnoxious/sweet ring.] James Patrick March. And you?

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Chilton glanced at that hand before -- his hesitant smile growing warmer by the moment -- he reached over to meet it. The wedding band had been duly noted, of course, but that indication had paled in comparison to March's sheer presentation. The good humor, the engaging and upbeat demeanor, the assertive handshake -- it was all rather magnetizing. Chilton liked the idea of making acquaintance with this poised and pleasant man.]

Doctor Frederick Chilton. Pleasure's mine.

[His smile wavered only a moment as he wondered if what he had said had been charming enough. First impressions and all.]

I -- I must admit, I have grown used to sunshine. I'm an imPort based out of Heropa, actually. Are you... [important, he hoped.] From Nonah?

Nonah; casually forward-dates to March 15th

[exceptfebruary]

[ Calendar Man already knew that St. Patrick's Day would be his opening debut, but he felt the need to celebrate the Ides of March too. It was important, after all. But he would rather avoid outright committing crimes on this day rather than ruin his upcoming plans. So he reached a compromise.

And so he's decked out in full Roman regalia, toga and all, wandering Nonah and spreading the good word. Like some really weird supervillain performance art. He is human and gets thirsty sometimes, of course, so he does stop to get something to drink, which is when he runs into a certain person.

He does notice March's particular fashion statement as well, and doesn't have enough shame not to stare for a few seconds before March speaks. After a moment's consideration, he does sit down. ]

Perhaps. Having a good day?

yes good

[idesof]

[So perhaps Calendar Man doesn't have a jet black aura, who cares, he's in a toga. While March has zero knowledge of the man, that's enough to make him want all the knowledge he can get hands on. Of course March is aware of the date, not just through name but an appreciation of Shakespeare, and finds it absolutely tickling for anyone to be out and about so boldly and shamelessly celebrating a day not widely known. How charming! How delightful! March appreciates art on all levels and it's not good art if there isn't something weird to it. So tickled he doesn't at all care he's been stared at (why would he). He'll subscribe to this channel. ]

I am indeed, thank you for asking. [With all the ease of a man talking to someone who isn't a complete stranger in a toga. But the question is begged, so he moves right into:] Are you a Julius today? Or a Brutus? Cassius, perhaps.

[r u gonna get stabbed or r u gonna stab a bitch, deets plz]

NONAH~

[wizzardly]

[if March is camped at this particular cafe long enough, he'll get to view Rincewind arguing with his unlucky server about their lack of greasy potato and sausage products, settling on tea and soup, chasing his hat like he's about to lose his first-born child when a strong gust of wind tries to steal it from him, and ultimately wrangling with a wooden chest on legs when it attempts, shockingly, to trample or devour a young woman's Yorkshire terrier (although in the Luggage's defense, the small dog did try to piss on it first).

By the time March (who he'd noticed earlier simply because it looked like the man was drinking absinthe and it wasn't even noon) is asking if the wizard would like company Rincewind is thrown half out of his seat with most of his skinny weight on the Luggage's lid. He watches as the woman all but runs away with her melon-sized dog in her arms, then sends the ghost a distracted, beleaguered, and entirely confused look.]

- What? I - yes? I suppose? Who are you?

[idesof]

[Oh, he's been watching. At first, the bizarre hippie aura. He's seen a lot in his day, he has, but he's always interested in any "odd" sort of aura. Then the Luggage comes into play, and hoo buddy it's basically a suitcase version of his son. While other patrons may be aghast it would dare attempt to eat a small dog, March is just reminded of that beautiful faceless baby. They even have the same dark color! In this moment, March can truly relate to the struggles of another father. Except March never considered having a voracious monster child a struggle, so it's less "ah, I know that feel, poor guy" and more "awwwwww." Very healthy.

So of course he approaches without any hesitation or fear of the monster suitcase child. That thing deserves to be coddled and cooed and taken on special daddy-soncase murder dates, for God's sake, bless it. Any fondness for the adorable monster vanishes at the question though because if there's one thing March loves to say out loud, it's his own name.]

James Patrick March! [His own name being his full name, naturally. He extends his hand for a shake, too, not at all bothered by this putting him in close proximity to terrier-hungry chestbabies.] Pleasure. And the two of you?

[Yes he assumes they both have a name because clearly that adorable menace has a personality enough to warrant one.]

Nonah!

[baetiful]

[ Why not Nonah indeed! Petyr had been spending a great deal of time in each of the imPort cities. Although it is Maurtia Falls that he calls home, each of these places are equally important to the imPort community. And he wants to learn them all -- the places people go, the stories people tell, the type of community you would find in each. So that brings him to this little coffee shop (coffee seems to be important to people in this modern world). And he happens to see March as he makes a scene -- watching him and his interactions from afar and maybe a little jealous he wasn't invited to the party. But as March's company dwindles down, it seems as though Petyr has earned his attention after all. ]

Why yes. Of course.

[ Petyr gives a gesture to the seat across from him. ]

I am not one to deny a man who seems to be quite the company to keep. Have you only just met them?

[ A nod of his head toward the retreating people. ]

[idesof]

[Sometimes, a man must play hard to get in order to get where he wants to be. The unfortunate part was by the time Petyr and his beautiful aura happened about, he'd already begun speaking with others, and he wasn't about to just get up and ignore them. Nor invite Petyr over, not yet. There were some conversations that simply didn't need to happen with an audience of more than two. So when those reds and blues disperse, March isn't at all put out by it despite appearances. He can move onto something more worthwhile, and he's ever so delighted when moving on is welcomed.

He sits with a smile, crossing his legs at the knee, all confidence and ease in both body and voice.]

I have, yes. First visit to Nonah. Getting a feel for a city's people and how those people view their city is just as important as sight-seeing, in my experience. [Perhaps Petyr has a different experience, one that would make him disagree, so the little addition is important because if so? That is Okay. As is bypassing the potential flattery with nothing more than a nod.] And now we've only just met. James Patrick March. [Extending his hand for a shake, you betcha.] Pleasure.

nonah, I just want all your cr with all my dudes. also post swear-in

[helpline]

[ Coffee coffee coffee coffee, the Doctor really needs coffee. Time Lord biology means that he can get by with less sleep than humans but after a night of staying up to watch the stars plus while also going over his schematics for the little machine he built that exploded at the swear-in to see where he went wrong AND THEN having work afterwards means that the Doctor needs coffee. Give him that wonderful caffeine, it'll keep him going for the rest of the day before sleeps.

He's in Nonah because there's a store that he wants to visit, one of those grocery stores that's big enough to have an ~international foods~ aisle or two and he just really wants prawn cocktail flavored crisps. Why does he want that particular flavor, he doesn't know, he's just craving them, craving things is so human and it's so stupid but he would seriously consider murdering someone for a bag of prawn cocktail flavored crisps...after he gets coffee.

It's when he gets coffee that March asks him for some company. The Doctor looks around, like he's fully expecting March to be talking to somebody else...but nope, just him, well hey, he's not one to say no to company! ]

Well, if you're offering. [ he slides into the seat next to March, giving the man a small nod before the Doctor just CHUGS a bit of his coffee (black, nothing fancy added). His Scottish accent is a big ol'sign that he's not from here...but the way he's just chugging that scalding hot beverage is another. ] I'm the Doctor, by the way, nice to meet a friendly face.

new char who dis

[idesof]

[If he ever needs help murdering someone to get a bag of literally anything then GOOD GOD IT IS HIS LUCKY DAY he has finally met ~*~tHe MaStEr~*~ nothing bad can happen from this. There will be so many prawn cocktail flavored crisps that it could only be good.

Cue March watching this new fellow chug the shit out of his coffee, head tilted so he can get the fullest, most high-definition picture of Older Gent Needing To Stay Awake. How endearing. How positively normal...compared to the color scheme March is seeing, of course. Da fuq is this shit in his face he must know more, he must go deeper.]

James Patrick March. [And you will obey him. J/k!!] Pleasure. You've had a long day, I take it?

[He nods to the coffee. No one reacts to coffee like that unless they absolutely need it.]

NONAH

[foreshadower]

[ Actually, he was at the local coffee shop because they had excellent espresso.

Which was why he was sipping away at a small, ceramic cup of espresso that was -- frankly -- only given to the hyper-pretentious regulars, and if a guy in a very fine victorian frock coat and top hat certainly didn't scream pretentious, he didn't know what did.

But the seats were missing. Well, rather, his regular table was pushed with others, and he looked at it long enough, and mournfully enough that he very nearly missed the offer. Very nearly, because after a moment, his lips spread into a delighted smile, and he looked at the man with renewed interest. After all, he had a cane, and Shade very obviously carried his own -- a wicked, eagle-headed thing, that shone under the dull café lights. ]

I would not mind, no.

You know, this is actually my normal table.

[idesof]

[A wicked eagle-headed thing indeed. March spots it and momentarily wonders if it's similar to his in the way it's hiding something A fun something, of course! A fun something for him, a not so fun something for anyone on the receiving end of it. That's how fun works in the world of James Patrick March.]

Really. [With the right amount of drawl to get across that no, it's not a question. How curious, though, that snagging a table should draw in someone with that lovely aura about them. Truly it was meant to be.] I'd apologize, old boy, but seems moving your normal table has worked in our favor today.

[What he means is, Shade seems like March's cup of tea and in that way he's certain he'll prove capable of being Shade's cup of tea as well. Potential starts with a hello, a greeting, and March extends his hand for a shake like a tried and true professional.]

James Patrick March. Pleasure.