(no subject)

[trulyoracular]

Where the universe is concerned, Olaf doesn't generally question its choices. Bad things happen. Good things happen. Strange things happen, but usually it all fits together in the larger pieces of the puzzle. It's why he doesn't really do so much more than shrug when instead of walking into Mike's bar, he walks into a party in full swing where he doesn't recognize a single guest.

It's not like this is the first time it's happened to Olaf. Generally, him recognizing someone in a crowd full of people is usually a start. Still, he has learned to go with the stranger events in the universe and no one's died as a result of this little left turn, so he grabs the joint he'd tucked away behind his ear and drifts into the throng of people, observing the summer-like nature of the party from the vibrant drinks to the decorations to the clothes everyone's wearing. Really, this could very well still be Auckland for all he knows and whatever he took earlier had been laced stronger than usual, but Olaf's sort of getting the feeling there's more to it than that.

With no shoes and a Hawaiian shirt fit for a king, Olaf feels like he fits right into the breezy, summer theme of the party around him. He might not know how he got here, but Olaf's never turned down a good party. This one holds a great deal of promise.

Comments

[borntodo]

It's pretty fancy for a Nazi stronghold, is Bucky's thinking. Pretty English, too. He keeps his ears perked for any tell-tale accents, any slips of the tongue, but so far he's come up with zip, nada, zilch. His pet theory for the moment is that he got knocked out when he slipped inside the base, and all of this -- the food, the luxury, the dames -- are all delicious figments of his starved imagination.

And heck, if he's dreaming, he might as well enjoy himself. Reality'll come crashing in sooner or later, and while he's on guard for trouble, he can't think of a reason not to try the hors d'oeuvres while he still has a chance.