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[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Break, snap swoosh.  Lather, rinse, repeat.]

Comments

[4-thee-my-lord.livejournal.com]

*It's not hard to recognise the tiny, grimm looking lass straight away, it's definitely easier than approaching he right away. But seeing her play with matches only gives Murphy urges to spark up a smoke.*

*Shame his fucking brother stole his last one...*

Oi! *cocks his head* Have yeh got a smoke ta spare?

(ooc: My condolences on the remake, dude. Keep on rocking with YOUR Lisbeth and lets all pretend that bullshit never happened.)

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[She has been striking matches and letting them burn down for awhile now. The spark of fire and the brief scent of chemical reaction in igniting the head is a good scent to her. A good number of matches have paid for her enjoyment, there is a tiny match stick graveyard in between her boots. Looking up through the dark fringe of her hair she spots one of the brothers and gives a brief nod.

Reaching into her coat pocket she takes out the pack and taps one out for him. Nothing doing.]


ooc: thank you, it's truly a dark time for us *moment of silence.*

[4-thee-my-lord.livejournal.com]

*She might be odd, having that perpetual stern look on her face. But that was strangely enough what Murphy liked about her. Connor and him had been also dubbed as 'strange' plenty of times, sometimes because of their closeness or sometimes because of their strong beliefs, among other things. Hanging with the odd ones gave him a familiar feeling. It was normal.*

*But despite her attitude, he had no doubt: she was a kind woman at heart.* Thanks. *with a court nod, he picked the fag and reached into his pocket for his lighter.*

Yeh like playin' with fire? *he asked after a short silence*

(ooc: NO doubt about it. That shit is all over the interwebz.)

[whisky-ghost.livejournal.com]

Shit. Yeah! You got a match?

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Aw, it's The Ghost, it's always nice to see him though her face doesn't ever reflect that.

Tearing off another match she offers it to him. What he is going to do with an unlit match, well, he just asked for a match.]

[headstomping.livejournal.com]

[He takes out a lighter - a flashy, chrome novelty lighter with the name of some big action movie written on the side and nearly rubbed off.

He flicks it on and holds it there for a while. He doesn't have a cigarette, just a toothpick clenched between his lips.]

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Everything has a sound. As a youngster she spent a lot of time trying to listen to sound when there was none. Now, so many sounds.

The waking of the lighter gets her looking up, and she watches for a moment or two before going back to her routine.]

[finisfervens.livejournal.com]

[ Well, damn. A primitive play at his favorite toy. He'll just help himself to watching. ]

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Watching the match she is holding burn down, she tosses it away and then glances up.

Who is this man and why is he staring at her? Lisbeth glowers.]

Don't stare.

[firstratefuckup.livejournal.com]

[He wouldn't bother her if he didn't forget his lighter at home. If his lighter was in his pocket like it usually was instead of next to his bowl on his bedside table, he would have kept his hood up and ignored her in favor of the glowing embers of his cigarette. Now though, with life as it is, he goes over to her, hands in his pockets and his cigarette dangling from his lips.]

Hey, can you spare a light?

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Her most recent victim is all burned out, as the fuel for the flame became less and less so did the flame till it neared her fingers and she had to drop it before the pain got to be too much. Between her boots it lays with all it's fallen brethren. He asks and she stands, all four foot something of her, depending on the heel of her boots.

She tears off another match and strikes it before offering the flame up to him.]

[a-peaceful-aura.livejournal.com]

[doot doot setting up the fireworks pot while you do that. It's totally safe to trust this to him]

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Oh she is totally watching him. She figures that the worst that could happen is that they catch on fire and burn to death.


He better be paying attention.]

[4-thee-my-lord.livejournal.com]

*It's not hard to recognise the tiny, grimm looking lass straight away, it's definitely easier than approaching he right away. But seeing her play with matches only gives Murphy urges to spark up a smoke.*

*Shame his fucking brother stole his last one...*

Oi! *cocks his head* Have yeh got a smoke ta spare?

(ooc: My condolences on the remake, dude. Keep on rocking with YOUR Lisbeth and lets all pretend that bullshit never happened.)

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[She has been striking matches and letting them burn down for awhile now. The spark of fire and the brief scent of chemical reaction in igniting the head is a good scent to her. A good number of matches have paid for her enjoyment, there is a tiny match stick graveyard in between her boots. Looking up through the dark fringe of her hair she spots one of the brothers and gives a brief nod.

Reaching into her coat pocket she takes out the pack and taps one out for him. Nothing doing.]


ooc: thank you, it's truly a dark time for us *moment of silence.*

[whisky-ghost.livejournal.com]

Shit. Yeah! You got a match?

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Aw, it's The Ghost, it's always nice to see him though her face doesn't ever reflect that.

Tearing off another match she offers it to him. What he is going to do with an unlit match, well, he just asked for a match.]

[headstomping.livejournal.com]

[He takes out a lighter - a flashy, chrome novelty lighter with the name of some big action movie written on the side and nearly rubbed off.

He flicks it on and holds it there for a while. He doesn't have a cigarette, just a toothpick clenched between his lips.]

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Everything has a sound. As a youngster she spent a lot of time trying to listen to sound when there was none. Now, so many sounds.

The waking of the lighter gets her looking up, and she watches for a moment or two before going back to her routine.]

[finisfervens.livejournal.com]

[ Well, damn. A primitive play at his favorite toy. He'll just help himself to watching. ]

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Watching the match she is holding burn down, she tosses it away and then glances up.

Who is this man and why is he staring at her? Lisbeth glowers.]

Don't stare.

[firstratefuckup.livejournal.com]

[He wouldn't bother her if he didn't forget his lighter at home. If his lighter was in his pocket like it usually was instead of next to his bowl on his bedside table, he would have kept his hood up and ignored her in favor of the glowing embers of his cigarette. Now though, with life as it is, he goes over to her, hands in his pockets and his cigarette dangling from his lips.]

Hey, can you spare a light?

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Her most recent victim is all burned out, as the fuel for the flame became less and less so did the flame till it neared her fingers and she had to drop it before the pain got to be too much. Between her boots it lays with all it's fallen brethren. He asks and she stands, all four foot something of her, depending on the heel of her boots.

She tears off another match and strikes it before offering the flame up to him.]

[a-peaceful-aura.livejournal.com]

[doot doot setting up the fireworks pot while you do that. It's totally safe to trust this to him]

[wasplisbeth.livejournal.com]

[Oh she is totally watching him. She figures that the worst that could happen is that they catch on fire and burn to death.


He better be paying attention.]