Thread: Brand New Day: A Horrible RP (SevenxSome Drunkard)

Re Brand New Day A Horrible RP SevenxWineandine Try as he might, he could get used to Los Angeles again. There was something so incredibly cold about the city that tried to separate itself from the rest of the world, from the aloof population that wandered the streets with their ears glued to their cellphones, but he was back, and he was doing his best to acclimate. It had taken him a week after he heard the news to believe that Penny was actually dead. Bad things happened. Bad things had always happened to the Watson family, but never things that bad. He would know he had kept an eye on her since he had left the family kicked out at fifteen, when Penny was eleven, after their father found him in the car with another boy's hand down his pants - he stayed away when he decided that he wanted to be Hero someday, because he didn't like the thought of putting her in danger. And it was her relations with a Hero that had gotten her killed in the end, hadn't it? With a groan Buck finished unpacking his things into his tiny apartment. Wasn't much different than what he had been living off of in that Illinois college town that he had taken up protecting when it came to living arrangements. He had a loft, a comfortable bed, and after two weeks, a still mostly empty refrigerator. Lots of dirty laundry, though. So he piled up his clothes and headed to the closest laundromat he'd seen, sliding the green basket atop a table as he began shoving his clothes into it. This city was in trouble. Since the fall of Captain Hammer, evil had become trendy, vogue. He heard people titter to each other about supervillains, about who had witnessed what heist when and how cool it had been, and he shook his head sadly in reminiscence as he poured a bit of detergent with color safe bleach alternative, of course into the washer and thumped the lid shut. He was here to clean up this city. And to get vengeance, righteous vengeance against the monster who had killed his sister. He remembered once when he was ten and she was six, he would make paperclips dance for her on the table in the study when his father was going after their mother, and she'd press a pale hand to her mouth and giggle, or when he was twelve and would make origami from the aluminum foil without touching it, or the pain in her pre-teen voice when he listened to her messages on his answering machine that he never returned. Buck shook his head again as if to snap himself out of it. It wasn't the time for grieving. He needed to get used to the city again, adapt to the place. Make some friends, maybe. He looked up just in time to see a slightly insane looking blond struggle to clean his hands with - what was that, Kleenex? Oh God, that had to be messy. Casting a glance at the washer to make sure that it was actually going, he approached Billy and retrieved a crumpled blue handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to him. Uh, here, he said, you look like you're having some problems. His facial structure was remarkably similar to Penny's - the same nose, an identical curve to the chin, eyes and hair that were barely a shade darker, except they were notably more masculine and also very much not dead. All out of wet naps, sorry.