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They'd drank some. Jibril hadn't drank a lot but enough that he's very tipsy as they make their way back to his apartment. Rhy keeps kissing him, hands on his waist and hips and it is heating Jibril's skin, his face flushing more than it had from the alcohol alone. He stumbles back against a wall down the hall from the door to his apartment, a laugh drawing from him as he looks up at Rhy's face. He leans up to press his lips to the other's, arching off the wall to press against him.

He should drag Rhy toward the door but he's distracted with the desire to kiss him.

Simon shows up later with cookie dough. The autopsy had taken a bit longer than he'd wanted it to but he had texted to let David know he was running later than he thought. He knocks on the other's door, tired but looking forward to pasta and some time with the guy he's been sort of dating -- not officially yet.

Gar shows up not long after. The offer is one he can’t refuse because why would he ever want to? He lets himself in the door and searches out the other.

“You really did set us up with some options,” he grins.

The Shire is a very quiet place. Quite insular, in many ways. They don't necessarily like Outsiders much, in the Shire. But those who come and stay? That's different. Those folk are Shirefolk, now, and the Shire protects its own.

It's probably why no one ever mentions the fact that Master Mack who lives in a small hut out behind the Bird and Baby Inn is very definitely an elf, and not a hobbit. In fact, it's not entirely clear if the Shirefolk even realise that the minstrel who plays from 5pm to 8pm sharp Mondays to Fridays and mostly potters around in his garden the rest of the time is an elf at all. They certainly don't seem to think it odd that he's been doing this now since Carlo Blagrove's grandfather was the Tavernkeep, and doesn't seem to have aged a day (Or if they do, they're far too polite to say so. In public, you understand - it's simply not done.)

Either way, no one mentions anything except that he's very good, and knows all the best dancing songs, and can tell a good yarn with the best of the old gaffers, and minds his own business, which really just makes him the perfect neighbour.

Certainly, he doesn't seem to much like Gandalf, and always manages to be away when the wizard is in the Shire, but as said Wizard mostly spends his time up in Bag End or the Tooklands, no one brings it up, and Gandalf never asks. He's a Disturber of the Peace anyway, is Gandalf. No one can blame Master Mack for wanting too keep his Peace, can they? Why, his only failing is that he does not smoke and wears shoes. Nothing to be helped for that. Oh, and he seems a mite leery of Old Mad Baggins, but that's a Sensible Precaution, if you ask anyone who Has Sense.

All of which is to say, if you want some real dancing music, folks say, you should go down to the Bird and Baby between five to eight, and if you buy him a drink, Old Mack is quite happy to have a chat. He does requests too, if you ask nicely.

[ It's been a while now, since that cop bitch took Jinx's sister and stole her back to Piltover. As if Jinx didn't have enough reasons to hate the shining metropolis. But, a few months have passed, enough for tempers to cool to only a simmer, enough for Jinx to take over Silco's old connections in the undercity, enough for Vi to get herself a nice little place in Piltover. It's quaint, in an overly-polished and pretty way, Jinx thinks as she slips in through the window one night. She can see the little ways Vi has taken the prim and proper, cutesy decor that the place probably came with, and dirtied it up a little to make it more homely.

She sits down in the biggest chair in the living room and puts her feet up, waiting in the darkness for her sister to get home. ]

▶ unbreakable_king

▶ helpdesk_hero

▶ hybrid_prince

for whichever hobbit you want XD or anyone, really

for Vi