[Neil looks pensive, which makes him look older than his years. Or maybe it's just his eyes when he has this expression, having experienced more crap in his short life than anyone should. Still, he's taking a swig from a beer bottle and he seems comfortable, curled up in a cushy chair.]

It was almost Christmas when I first came here. It wasn't Christmas here, but it was back home. I hadn't done any shopping then and I haven't done any now. It's been... Shit, how long has it been?

Oh, fuck it...

Anyway, Merry Christmas or... whatever you celebrate. If you don't celebrate anything holiday-like, have a beer to... to celebrate being alive. Yeah.

[And he has another swig of his beer.]
29 November 2013 @ 12:41 am
[Neil looks... tired. No, maybe he's just thinking really hard.


Uh, come to think of it, he looks like he's in a stupor, actually. Is he experiencing a hangover from indulging in too much alcohol? Has he been smoking something other than cigarettes? Experimenting with mushrooms, maybe? Hopped up on goofballs?

No, it's something less sinister.

He suffers the malady of the season.

Neil McCormick... has been turkied.]

I think... I think...

I ate... too much...
27 September 2013 @ 04:02 pm
[A young man of about nineteen comes into focus. He's dressed in a very nice suit jacket and jeans. And an awesome vest. With cool shades. Do you know him? After his 'make-over', would you know him? His hair has been trimmed: no more severe bangs! Guess someone decided for a new look. The young man turns to the device and says...]

Hey. How's it goin'?

[ooc: This is Neil McCormick, believe it or not. His boss and friend, Lucy, has taken him for a hair cut and a shopping spree to update his look. He won't likely dress like this all the time now - as if - but it does make him look quite different. Go ahead, express your opinion or ask him if he's new to the City, lol!]
05 August 2013 @ 07:47 pm
[Yes, Neil looks a little worse for wear and yes, for those who don't like seeing someone so young puffing on a cigarette, he's smoking. He looks tired, but he's alive, dammit. Speaking of that, which we weren't but whatever--]

So, there's this friend of mine who saved my life by eating junk food. He doesn't seem to be here anymore, which is good and bad...

[He sighs and blows smoke out the side of his mouth.]

Okay, let's try that again.

Has anyone seen Chekov? About this high...

[Hand indicates height.]

Russian, can't say his double-u's, really, really smart...
23 July 2013 @ 04:37 pm
[His device turns on while he's in the bathroom of his apartment. He doesn't realize this. Fortunately, he's wearing pants. His mouth is open a little, because that's how he's breathing. Sinus infection? He clears his throat, loudly. Sore throat? Neil looks in the mirror, sticks his right pinky finger in his right ear and wiggles it. Hearing problems?

Well, isn't he a mess?

He sneezes, his left hand barely making it to cover his mouth. Someone taught him that, likely his mother. When he pulls his hand away, a trickle of blood comes out his nose. He speaks to the mirror, still unaware he is broadcasting, and says, in a hoarse voice:]

What the fuck is wrong now?

[ooc: Neil is sick-cursed and only going to get worse. The rite to heal him involves eating food he loves: burgers, fries, pizza, you know, the stuff some of us might wish we could eat all the time with no repercussions. If anyone wants to have a dream about it, they'll be eating wherever and whatever they wish, but Neil, who is in the dream with your character, won't be eating. He'll look sad and thin and tired.]
09 July 2013 @ 07:20 pm
[Neil is wearing shades. Never seen that before, but then, he still has a blackeye from being caught in the rebellion and he still aches a bit, too. And did he cut his hair or something? Whatever. His question is brief.]

Anyone need a roommate? Mine seems to have gone and I've got. Two bedroom apartment.
[Neil is... perched. On a stool. Because. It might be safer there than being anywhere else, considering the chaos with the two factions in the square.

Trouble is, he's perched somewhere IN the square, trying to avoid getting hit by someone or something or being arrested for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He looks tense, but tries to sound calm about it all. Mostly.]

This is what I get for going out for milk...

[Ducks as someone leaps to attack another party, complete with battle cry.]


[When the device turns on - of its own accord - Neil is restockling the shelves at work and... humming? Well, humming and whistling, switching around at random, apparently. He's in tune and he can whistle, but is he... sort of singing, too? What is he singing about?

The items he's putting on the shelf!

And making it up as he goes along. So. Hummmed, whistled and, in parts, sung to the tune of 'Somebody', by Depeche Mode.]

Hmmm-hmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm, hmm-hem-hmmm-hmmm, humm, humm, hem,
[whistle, whistle, whistle]
I put shampoo on the shelf, 'cause it's getting real low,
And if your hair isn't clean, then no one will want to go...
Out with you anytime, unless you take care
Of your hygiene and stuff, and that includes your hair...

And then you will need, to pick up some soap,
This one's handy 'cause its on a rope...
But when I am clean, I want somebody
To rub my back and maybe try to grope me...

[ooc: Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. And the singing curse begins for Neil...]
24 April 2013 @ 11:15 pm
[This is Neil, staring in astonishment and anger and elements of vulnerability as he holds some photos -- Polaroid and other -- that remind him of who he left behind and parts of his past and previous 'job' he might wish to forget. Him as a boy, him hustling, family and friends. Coach. It isn't that some people aren't aware of some details, but not all. He has some photos of other people, too, but he's still sorting them.]

Hey, guys. Um... Does anyone else have photos with me in them? This is a curse, after all, right?

[ooc: link to various photos again, because I think it was confusing when I posted it earlier -- and it was locked in error: http://skintoskin.dreamwidth.org/6391.html#cutid1
I pass out now, but will catch up with tagging tomorrow. Thanks for your patience, folks. :)]
21 March 2013 @ 09:23 am
[Neil looks like hell. I mean, he's still cute and all, but been through the wringer? Oh, yeah. He saluted the Irish a few days ago and is just surfacing from the resulting hangover. When he speaks, his voice is very, very quiet.]



I feel like shit, but that's better than how I felt yesterday.

[Pause. He looks like talking is taking way too much effort.]

Anyone got a good... hangover cure?
[Neil is lounging on the sofa in the living room of his apartment, lazily smoking a cigarette. He has a number of plastic containers on the floor around him with... things sticking out of them. Green things. With colours on the end of them.

Oh. Flowers. Right.]

So, someone has sent me primrose. Anyone gonna to confess?

I'm not gonna quote Shakespeare or anything, but if anyone would like a message from me, I have a new way to tell you stuff. I'm ready.

[ooc: If anyone wants to have sent Neil primrose - which is 'young love' - go for it. Several could 'confess' or no one could confess. I just threw it in there on an impulse. :)]
21 January 2013 @ 04:35 pm
[Neil is Neil, so what can you do? He's eighteen and dry and bored, bored, bored. He's lounging on a sofa in the living room of his apartment, which doesn't have a heck of a lot to recommend it by in the way of decor. Or much furniture, either. He's on his back, knees bent over the end of the sofa, bare feet kicking lazily. Wearing jeans and a t-shirt is an improvement over the last time he was on the network, when he was naked. A cigarette is held between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Neil is looking at the ceiling. The device is on the coffee table.

Did I mention he's bored?]

So, I live in an apartment in building three, by myself, but I'm not here a lot, 'cause the ticking gets stupid after a while. And I'm sick of it all and bored out of my fuckin' skull.

Anyone want a roommate? I can move there or you can move here, I don't care.
27 December 2012 @ 12:01 pm
[Neil's voice sounds rough, like he hasn't spoken in a few days and has maybe spent some of those mostly in bed. Drinking, smoking, sleeping. If the video was on, people he knows might be concerned. Heck, maybe even a few he doesn't know might be concerned.]

So, from what I saw on the network, is it safe to... To eat anything yet?

[And a big yawn can be heard.]
29 November 2012 @ 01:22 pm
[Neil looks happy, almost hysterically so. The device shows him at the mirror, which is above the dresser in his bedroom. He's been reading posts from people who all look like this one guy and it freaked him out enough that he ran to the mirror to see if he was cursed, too. His hands are resting on the top of the dresser, which helps with the bouncing. He didn't bother to put any clothes on, however...

He isn't cursed, thus he's bouncing in place, yelling excitedly at his reflection.]

I'm me! I'm still fuckin' me!

Shit, I was worried. I haven't been cursed in a while...

But I'm still me!

[ooc: Mun has been waiting for this one, lol!]
not that i goout of my way to sea a circus, but whyare so many people scared of clonws??
20 September 2012 @ 02:03 pm
[Neil can be seen standing in the living room of his apartment, staring at the t-shirt he's wearing, reading it upside-down, but it isn't like he doesn't know what it says:


Anyone seeing this can tell that there are no words to express how he feels seeing that. If the City hasn't seen the vulnerable side of Neil McCormick before, they are now. Vulnerable, angry, ashamed, terrified by the memory.

After a moment he starts pulling the t-shirt off as if it is on fire. Before it is over his head, the device shuts down.]
31 August 2012 @ 03:34 pm
[Neil sits in on his bed, dressed in jeans and a white, sleeveless t-shirt, fingers twitching a little. His room is immaculate, like something from a design magazine, but he doesn't seem to be focused on anything but a large, wooden dresser. He has a crowbar across his lap. He isn't facing at the device, but it is apparent that he might be a little... traumatized. Something that could be a robot is on the floor, a large dent in it's head.]

It... folded all my clothes. It... It matched my socks...


((OOC: Sort of back now, but won't be around until later, so replies will be slow. Will catch-up on tagging then, too.))
20 August 2012 @ 08:25 pm
[Neil lights a cigarette and blows the smoke lazily our his mouth and nose. It curls around his head. He's sitting at an open window, looking out at the City.]

So, reading the network tells me there's another fuckin' curse goin' on. D'you all think you're birds or something? Someone's gonna get hurt.

[He turns slightly, so his legs are hanging outside the window. He looks down.]

If I jump, will I fly?

[Not cursed, just wondering, but it looks alarming, anyway.]

[[OOC: Tagging will be slow. Reality is very busy right now... :)]]
[So, the device is showing a rather nice pair of rich, red pumps. The heel probably is about four inches high and sturdy enough that it doesn't look like it'll slip through a tiny crack in the pavement. The person wearing them is crouched, so you can see their shins. They are holding the device. They stand, slowly and the image on the screen displays the knees and the thighs of the fairly decent, muscular legs of a young wom --

No, wait. Is that a pair of... boxer shorts? Yes, yes, it is. The white undershirt is next and then the collarbone and then... the face of Neil McCormick. He seems... uncertain. When he speaks, he's looking down at the shoes and not at the device.]

Hi. So, um... Yeah. Two things...

First, I think I might need a roommate or a pet or something, because the clock is really starting to get under my damn skin.

And second... I can't get these FUCKIN' SHOES OFF!

[He takes a deep breath and let's it out slowly.]

There. I feel better now.

No, wait, I DON'T! Somebody bring a crow bar or somethin'...

(( OOC: Posted in advance, so I make sure it gets done, lol! Hope that's okay. :) ))
[Neil is holding an eight-by-ten piece of paper just below his chin, so that the device can see the image on it. There is a rather crudely drawn maple leaf, done in red, in the center - more or less. Two red bars frame either side either side and the rest is white, which happens to be the colour of the paper, so hey, one less crayon to find.]

So, I don't know the national anthem, but I do know that people in Canada don't have polar bears for pets. That's just stupid.

Everyone knows it's huskey dogs...

[He laughs a little.]

Stephen was from Canada, so... Happy Canada Day, Stephen, wherever you are, and... the same to anyone else who's from Canada.