Rip Hunter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
directed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2018-06-12 01:51 pm
directed) wrote in entranceway2018-06-12 01:51 pm
anon text | action
[Wednesday sees Rip—on a boat! A boat and a bar, to be precise. Anyone is free to find him there. But even if they don’t, they might still speak to him. Only they won’t necessarily know it’s him, as he sets up his text to be anonymous:]
Now that our happy little “war” has come and gone, let’s move on to other things, shall we? I bake things. Cakes, specifically. With preparations no longer taking up so much of everyone’s time, I’ve got hours to fill. Thus, an opportunity for you, the random citizen of Wonderland.
If you would like something made especially for you, let me know. I’ve ample practice in both cooking and decoration, and I’m rather good at it should I say so myself. The one catch is that I’d prefer not to make my identity public. Personal reasons, you all understand. Or you don’t, but that won’t change my mind.
Now then. Ask away as you will.
[Spoilers, he was drunk at the time of this posting.
More spoilers? He’s going to be drunk on Thursday too. But since the bar on the boat closes eventually, Rip does end up back at the mansion. There may even be food involved at some point, should anyone want to find a potentially water-logged British man making demands of the cabinets in the kitchen--though not for nachos. Oh no. His once go-to drinking snack has been forever associated with someone else, and he’s trying not to feel at the moment, thank you.
There’s also the fifth floor bar, where Rip heads with a bit of trepidation. He’s a touch more somber there; more watchful than he cares to admit of the entrance, and those who pass by it. It’s foolish, really. They’ve already had their talk. Why would he expect to catch glimpse of Steve Rogers on the fifth floor now?
Why would he be there still. So many hours—a whole night later.
It’s late in the evening before he thinks better of it, finally, and returns to his room for the night. Late before he drops down onto his bed to stare up at the ceiling, dizzy with drink, and wait for exhaustion or alcohol or whatever other forces remain at play to let him drift into unconsciousness.
He doesn’t expect anyone will come calling.]
[[ooc: So Rip has two open posts! For anything on the boat please go here, anything after that can go in this one. I’m also open to have him found elsewhere should anyone want him! He’s just going to be sad and miserable for a bit. :c]]
Now that our happy little “war” has come and gone, let’s move on to other things, shall we? I bake things. Cakes, specifically. With preparations no longer taking up so much of everyone’s time, I’ve got hours to fill. Thus, an opportunity for you, the random citizen of Wonderland.
If you would like something made especially for you, let me know. I’ve ample practice in both cooking and decoration, and I’m rather good at it should I say so myself. The one catch is that I’d prefer not to make my identity public. Personal reasons, you all understand. Or you don’t, but that won’t change my mind.
Now then. Ask away as you will.
[Spoilers, he was drunk at the time of this posting.
More spoilers? He’s going to be drunk on Thursday too. But since the bar on the boat closes eventually, Rip does end up back at the mansion. There may even be food involved at some point, should anyone want to find a potentially water-logged British man making demands of the cabinets in the kitchen--though not for nachos. Oh no. His once go-to drinking snack has been forever associated with someone else, and he’s trying not to feel at the moment, thank you.
There’s also the fifth floor bar, where Rip heads with a bit of trepidation. He’s a touch more somber there; more watchful than he cares to admit of the entrance, and those who pass by it. It’s foolish, really. They’ve already had their talk. Why would he expect to catch glimpse of Steve Rogers on the fifth floor now?
Why would he be there still. So many hours—a whole night later.
It’s late in the evening before he thinks better of it, finally, and returns to his room for the night. Late before he drops down onto his bed to stare up at the ceiling, dizzy with drink, and wait for exhaustion or alcohol or whatever other forces remain at play to let him drift into unconsciousness.
He doesn’t expect anyone will come calling.]
[[ooc: So Rip has two open posts! For anything on the boat please go here, anything after that can go in this one. I’m also open to have him found elsewhere should anyone want him! He’s just going to be sad and miserable for a bit. :c]]
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[Later, he'll blame his talkativeness on the alcohol. For now, he gulps another mouthful of soju.]
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[Rip understands that all too well—although he can’t recall a time he’s ever been framed. Usually he’s rather guilty of the crimes he’s accused of committing.
And as for the fate of those who encouraged him to become a Time Master? Well. He’s got no regrets over how that ended.]
I’m sorry for your predicament, then. And also your loss.
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Did you ever get a chance what you wanted at the price of your dreams for the future?
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Yes, actually. Quite a long time ago.
[When he and Miranda had been brought before the tribunal, charged with having an affair. He remembered trying to convince himself and her that there must have been some way to work things out—some manner in which they might still be together, and Time Masters both.
He’d been wrong about it; the choice Kay asks after followed.]
Except someone spared me from having to make it.
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[Even if Kay does regret how things panned out, he knows he wouldn't be able to stand it if someone else had taken responsibility over the situation.]
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[If Rip had been the one to fall on the metaphorical sword, and Miranda the Time Master. No, he wouldn’t be near the same person.]
But I wouldn’t change it. That moment turned out to be one of the best ones of my life. So I suppose, quite different than yours in that respect.