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[dillonrockstar]

[There's a long haired, beat up, hung over boy standing in the fountain looking more than a little confused. Pro tip: It's his default expression. He's wearing a plaid button up over a thermal long sleeve, a blue ball cap backwards, jeans, cowboy boots and he's got grease on his hands and smeared on his neck.]

What the hell's goin' on here? Where's my truck? Billy? Bo? Why the crap is everything in black and white? What the hell did I drink? [That's the slightest bit of panic right there before he gets control of himself]

[He sighs, steps out of the fountain and shakes his boots off. He takes his hat off, runs his hands back over his hair and then puts his hat back on, still backwards. It's then that he sees the device sitting near the fountain and picks it up. It ain't like he knows how to use it but he shoves it in his pocket anyway.]

I hope to hell these dry out.

Comments

[greedful-cheat.livejournal.com]

The City happened.

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

What City? Austin? I been there. This don't look like it.

[greedful-cheat.livejournal.com]

Because it isn't. This city is called The City.

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

So where the hell is it?

[greedful-cheat.livejournal.com]

Nowhere. Especially not where you were just at. Possibly in another plane of reality. Or it's own separate universe. Nobody is sure.

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

[He just gives you a blank, confused look for a moment.]

Fuck, I'm not drunk enough for this.

[greedful-cheat.livejournal.com]

Did I mention you can't escape? At least not intentionally.

I wouldn't drink too much right now. You're going to have to live here for now on.

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

Bullshit. [Sorry, he's stubborn. And dumb]

[greedful-cheat.livejournal.com]

Sorry. Many have tried. Nobody has had success yet. [...and he's a troll. And an enabler. He's having fun toying with fresh meat him.]

[totallyinaband]

It's not usually in black and white around here. I least I hope it won't be.

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

Yeah that don't tell me shit. What the hell happened? [He's cranky, Stephen. Sorry about that. He just got yanked out of a parade celebrating how awesome he is. There was most definitely going to be sex and beer that night.]

[totallyinaband]

Oh, has no one given you the intro spiel yet?

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

[Just this look] Huh? There's an intro spiel?

[totallyinaband]

Fuck. Sorry in advance, man. I suck at the intro speech.

So uh, this is the City. People show up here from all over the place and no one can leave. There are deities and occasionally we all get cursed. There's a City guide around here somewhere if I can find it.

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

Six put you up to this? Maybe Seven?

[totallyinaband]

Who?

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

Street or Saracen?

[likeboudica.livejournal.com]

I have found that the devices are rather sturdy and long-lasting.

[ Because Tessa and Tim = trainwreck. And thus clearly awesome. ]

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

Yeah, was sorta talkin' 'bout my boots. [And she gets one of those lazy, charming grins because hello she's hot and he's Tim. Plus she's the first sign of everything isn't shit here.]

You been here a while?

[so much clearly awesome]

[likeboudica.livejournal.com]

Your boots might share those qualities, but I was hardly referring to them.

[ Why is he smiling like that? Tessa doesn't know how to deal. Especially since he doesn't seem to be sarcastic like Will always is. ]

A little over three months. Have you just arrived, sir?

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

[Sarcasm takes brains. Tim doesn't have that many.]

Shit so it's true? You really can't leave this place. Yeah, just showed up in the damn fountain. I'm Tim Riggins. [Said like he expects people to know who he is, because he does. Usually.]

[likeboudica.livejournal.com]

[ Swearing. Tessa has heard people swear before, but that doesn't mean she's used to it. ]

No, one cannot. Certainly not of one's own volition.

Miss Theresa Gray. It is nice to make your acquaintance, Mr Riggins. [ No hint that she might know who he is. Which she doesn't, of course. ]

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

No. No, don't do that. Just Tim or Riggins. Hell I'll even answer to 33 just not Mr. Riggins.

[likeboudica.livejournal.com]

Why would you answer to a number?

[dillonrockstar.livejournal.com]

[He runs his hands over his ball cap.] It's my jersey number.