September Catch-All and OPEN to anything!

[catchacold]

WHO: Leonard Snart aka Captain Cold
WHERE: art gallery, bars, Heropa 20 (roguehaus), the ice-rink, anywhere else he could conceivably be
WHEN: throughout September
WHAT: more coolness
WARNINGS: drinking, stealing, we'll see what comes up


[OPEN] The Art of...

Heropa has a couple of museums and a number of art galleries and Leonard is a frequent guest at most of them. Sometimes he even drops by on one of the other cities. He studies the pictures, reads the brochures and sometimes he just walks around for a while or sits on a bench, occasionally scribbling down a note or two.

In spite of regular visits, he doesn't draw much attention, most people seem to barely notice him at all. He has a habit of fading into the background. But he can be found there and is easily approachable. To anyone who sits or stands next to him, he might even offer gum.

No guarantee on the location of one's wallet after any given interaction.


[OPEN] Bar None

Just about any bar in Heropa could have him in it. Usually he sits somewhere in the back or a corner, often with a foot propped up on a chair and just about always with a drink in front of him that has a bit too much ice in it and that he empties quickly.

Maybe he's waiting for someone, maybe he's planning on drinking alone. Either way, he's not entirely opposed to company.


[SEMI-OPEN to everyone interested in acquiring parts of his loot] Cash Flow

"I'll show you mine and you show me yours?" He's a professional. He's not opposed to a line or two however. Actually, it might just be something he also deals with.

But even so, his face is pretty unreadable as he looks around, his fingers absently feeling the fabric of his jacket.

[ooc: If your character is a potential interested buyer and Leonard might have a way to find out about that, please hit me up via pm, at reineke or in this post!]

Comments

De Chima

[curada]

[Heropa had a few museums. De Chima boasted even more, unsurprisingly. Craning his neck, he looks up at the skeleton of a four-footed dinosaur that extends through a cavernous entrance hall. The sheer scale puts him something off balance. His eyes go wide, not only out of shock but a need to focus. By his estimation, it was 105 feet long. Most startling of all, it shared similarities with some of the monsters back home.

He was interested in the natural history of his world. Why wouldn't he be investigating that here, now? He wrinkles his nose at the offer of gum - when had that man come over? - and shakes his head.]

[catchacold]

Suit yourself.

[Tucking the pack of gums back away - after taking one for himself - Leonard returns to looking at the exhibit in front of them. He's seen bigger things alive and well, but this is impressive anyway and takes him back to his childhood, when dinosaurs had been just the most amazing thing ever.]

Hard to imagine creatures like that just dying out.

[curada]

It is. I hear some people assume it to be some form of conspiracy.

[He furrows his brows, and then rests his hand on his hip, showing his contempt for such lunacy.]

[catchacold]

People assume everything's a conspiracy. And around here, they always blame the Russians.

[There's no contempt here, just vague amusement and a shake of his head.]

Could have been time travel. Going back to kill off dinosaurs.

[curada]

[Shockingly, Victor rolls his eyes. If he wasn't showing his contempt before, he certainly is now.]

How absurd. Presumerably they'd next be blaming vampires.

[catchacold]

I met a werewolf the other day, so. You know, there's actually more absurd theories.

[This world is strange. Not that his world is necessarily less so, at this point vampires there wouldn't shock him either.]

[curada]

[He twists his fingers together by his side without looking at his strange companion; he tilts his head back and studies the dinorsaur some more.]

That I believe. I've been hearing such nonsense for a long time.

Bar !

[pyrogue]

[ Mick's got the day off tomorrow, so an after-work drink is on the cards. He didn't come directly from the studio, and if one was particularly perceptive one would notice he smells a little like smoke. And not the cigarette smoke kind.

He has a lighter Len gave him in his hand, flicking the lid absentmindedly. He doesn't notice Len at first, ordering a lemonade and tequila. It's only after he turns around to find a place to sit that he spots him.

He comes over, smiling a bit awkwardly. ]

Feel up to company?

[catchacold]

Yeah?

[Interesting use of time, hearing a lot of such nonsense when clearly so very offended by it. Which makes it worth poking.]

Maybe you should spend a little less time on those internet forums.

[curada]

Why do you presume the internet is the source of my discontent? I dare say such behavior was around before its conception.

[Like someone of his intelligence would lend himself to the beliefs of the masses. Please.]

[catchacold]

[Leonard isn't only particularly perceptive, he is also rather fine tuned to recognising specifically that smell and it's variations. Even if he hadn't spotted him, he'd have known Mick was here. As it is, he is watching him even before he walks over, seeing how he plays with the lighter and pushing down on feelings he doesn't permit himself to have.

So he just nods, his face not showing any change in emotional state.]

Sure. Grab a seat.

[He pushes one out with his foot and waits for Mick to sit.]

Coming from a barbecue?

[catchacold]

[Please, who is talking about masses? There are very niche forums online.]

Because that was a more sensible explanation than people hounding you down just to share their strange beliefs. Guess that's what you get for living in a college town.

[curada]

[Assuming he had been speaking about living in a college town himself, years ago... He doesn't look at the man as he offers his reply.]

Forgive me, but I do not understand what that would have felt like. I came here so recently that hearing such from this location would hardly be the case, either.

[catchacold]

De Chima's a college town, among other things. But don't worry about it.

[Cultural differences and all, there are clear tell tale signs by now. Better to take it slow and with less teasing.]

How come you hear so many strange theories?

holla holla get dolla

[brushoff]

"Careful," Dorian remarks, with a little smirk of his own. "I'm married." He moves to show his ring. However, as he does so, Dorian moves a hand to open his jacket, showing the fact that yeah, he's got the money, it's sitting in an inside pocket of his coat.

He waggles his fingers, practically gloating about that whole 'married' thing.

[catchacold]

"Good for you." What else is he supposed to do, congratulate a near stranger? He has noticed the ring before of course, because it's not the kind of thing someone like him would miss. What's easier to miss is his own thumb moving to his little finger, stroking a long where a ring should be. He hasn't been ported with it. "And good for me."

That, of course, is regarding the money. Leonard takes a few polaroid pictures out of his inner coat pocket and pushes them over to Dorian. "See anything you like?"

They show some of what he's willing to sell, good enough picture quality for having been taken in a warehouse.

[pyrogue]

[ Mick sits down, setting down his drink and pocketing the lighter. At Len's question, he sniffs his sleeve. ]

That obvious?

[ He hesitates, but he knows that Len knows about his problem. Nothing to gain by hiding it. ]

There was an office fire couple blocks down. Ain't one of mine, for the record.

[ But if there's a note of guilt in his voice it's because he wasn't there to put it out. ]

[catchacold]

I know it wasn't one of yours. For the record.

[How does he know? Really, it's a vibe, it's a look, it's also the fact that this Mick, in his experience, can't lie. He doubts he'd be able to hide something like this from him.

Len takes a sip from his drink, the ice cubes clinking as they hit the rim of the glass.]

[pyrogue]

[ Mick, ever the optimist, takes it as Len actually believing in his reformation. He smiles a little and raises his glass.

The ice gives him pause. ]

Y'know, the Leonard Snart I knew would put ice in everything, even his coffee.

[ For possibly the first time his tone talking about that version is more fond than bitter. ]

[catchacold]

[He believes in the reformation just fine, to a degree. He still worries about the pyromania that he knows all too well, glimmering in the ashes and just waiting to be stirred, so easily inflamed.

He picks up one ice cube between two fingers and looks at it, a hint of a smile on his face.]

Good taste. Though I like hot chocolate.

[pyrogue]

[ Meanwhile, Mick needs other people to believe in it. When he is the only one it starts to heat up and get out of control. ]

Who doesn't?

[ He grins. ] We should get some for the house. I'll make you a cup sometime.

[catchacold]

Oh.

[Not a lot of people offer to do things for him. Especially not a lot of people who are uncomfortable with him most of the time and often barely seem capable of looking at him. Leonard lets go of the ice cube to drop it back into the glass, then looks up at Mick.]

We'll have to get marshmallows too.

[brushoff]

Dorian leans over to look at the Polaroids. He can't help it: he lets out a little 'ooh' as he looks at a few of the paintings. Some of these are good. And Dorian Gray, art snob, is definitely pleased.

"That one," Dorian says, pointing towards something that dates around the 1800s. It's slightly pastoral, with grass and sheep, and really something that you wouldn't expect Dorian's taste profile to be. "When can I expect the delivery?"

[catchacold]

"Depends where you want it delivered." Leonard takes the picture back, another sweeping gesture picking up all the others. He's good with his hands. He turns that picture around and scribbles something down. "If you want it here, it will be there by tomorrow. But it also depends on when you plan on paying me." He writes down a sum and turns the picture back around so Dorian can look and judge. "I don't bargain. No going lower or I'll feel unappreciated."

[pyrogue]

[ You just got to be nice to somebody who bought you a personalized diamond encrusted lighter. It wasn't even his birthday.

Mick is very tentatively trying to… He isn't even sure exactly what he was trying to do, reach out maybe. ]

You bet. Just hide 'em from James or he'll eat 'em all.