no subject

[malachai]

After nearly two years of living human on a desert island that was disconnected from reality as it was possible to be and still sustain life, Nick had learned the meaning of "roll with it" pretty well.

Hell, his whole fucking life had been an exercise in rolling with it.

Coming to terms with doors to nowhere sitting right next to doors to horror movies didn't even raise an eyebrow. It just was and that was that.

Finding the martial arts studio for his sparring match with Thor had been perfect. So perfect he'd expected it to disappear when they went back through it, both of them limping and aching a little but grinning from exertion that had actually challenged them both.

Then he'd found it again the next night. When it had still been there three nights later, he decided to start making use of it as long as it was here. Two years of nothing but a heavy bag were fine, but he'd let his form get rusty. Something the fight with Thor had proven in spades.

He was there again tonight after leaving a note on his personal training sign in the gym indicating where he could be found if anyone was looking for him. He left the door propped open and took a spot on the center of the mats, loose cotton drawstring pants and t-shirt moved like there was a light breeze in the room as he moved through forms.

OOC: Find Nick in a martial arts studio that probably has some cosmetic damage from a god and a demon in hand-to-hand combat. The door is off one of the main hallways and propped open. If you frequent the gym, you've seen his sign advertising personal training.

no subject

[sluttylyingliar]

Rachel hasn't really been brave enough to venture out of her room until now. She's managed to get Danny to bring her as much food as she's been able to keep down as she suffered through the gross and completely undignified detox process which doesn't even seem to be over yet but enough is enough. She looks like shit and she needs real food and she needs to see for herself, through clear eyes, that she's really stuck on some kind of magic hotel grounds.

She pulls on one of his oversized t-shirts he'd lent her and a pair of boxers and slips out the door, wondering where he is. He keeps insisting he goes back to Hawaii, where he lives in between being at the magic hotel, but it all sounds like some kind of unending acid trip. Hell, maybe she's dead and since she was really bad, this is her purgatory.

If it is, at least it has a salon. She wanders, wide eyed through the hallways as the place gets more and more grand. She's suddenly and painfully aware that she's not wearing makeup, her messy hair is piled in a bun and she's wearing a crazy male cop's clothes. She wraps her arms around her middle, the cash Danny'd given her clutched tight in her fist as she tries to decide where to start. This was stupid, she should just go back to the room.

She spins on her heel, eyes starting to water and promptly slams into someone, knocking her on her ass. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Open to all! This is Rachel Gatina's debut. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Visible track marks on her arms. She just slammed into her pup. She's very slight and about 5'5"