Application for Claude Rains (Heroes)
Aug. 15th, 2007 03:18 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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((Done with permission from Peter- and Noah-muns. Claude is taken from after the end of the first chapter of Heroes (ie first season) and will have spoilers for that.))
The Sorting Room appeared to be empty. For a few long moments the application and the quill poised, waiting, seemingly for no one. Then, with a flicker, a man appeared in the center of the room, eyes warily searching the corners before he approached the table.
He was, in a word, scruffy. Worn clothes, shaggy beard and hair, the all over hunched look of someone who didn't sleep in a clean bed every night. Homeless, one might even say. A bum.
Pulling a soft pretzel out of his pocket, he began to absently munch on it while he looked around. "What kind of place is this?" His North London accent was thick and his eyebrow twitched up in an expression that might have been amusement. Or could have just as easily been disgust. It was hard to tell.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Now that question was out of the ordinary. Pausing, looking around one last time, Claude shrugged and slid into the seat, popping the last of the pretzel into his mouth and brushing off his hands.
"Right, okay, cheese." The quill helpfully jotted down his words and Claude let out a snort. "Nice trick." But he looked around again, nervous, before hunching over the application, almost as if to present a smaller target. "Um, well, can't say that I'm much of a connoisseur. Good basket of chips and a beer's all I usually need, you know? Nice steak, whatever I can nick. But if I had to choose, I guess I'd say cheddar of some kind. Versatile, yeah? Lots of things you can do with it. Tastes good on sandwiches."
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
For a moment, Claude remained absolutely still. Then his teeth bared slightly and his eyes tracked the quill, waiting on the parchment. The Company had some odd tricks in its sleeve, but this was weird and random, even for them. He hadn't been followed. He was sure of it. And, so far as he knew, the Company didn't have a presence here. Still, that question made something in him freeze up and it was, with effort, that he relaxed enough to grit out, "Neither. Why bother? Done nothing to me, have they? Live and let live's my motto. Don't make waves. They go about their business and I can keep to mine."
3. What time is it where you are?
"'Bout quarter past three." A faint smile crossed his face as he checked a shiny new Rolax on his wrist. "Unless that fat guy sweating in his suit at the airport didn't kept his watch wound."
4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.
"Please." Claude snorted loudly and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs and resting his feet on the desk. Still cautious, gaze still jumping around the room, he nonetheless was amused by the question. "Think I'm going to waste time on harassment? Let me tell you something, friend. People suck. Every last bleeding one of them. Girl, bloke, something in between - they're all going to hold you back, keep you on a leash, and then shove you ass over kettle when they get the chance. Better to go it alone. At least then you're not going to wind up bleeding, with your ass in a sling because you trusted someone you shouldn't. Harassment is more trouble than it's worth."
5. If you are pushing to be in:
A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.
Rolling his eyes, Claude glared down at the parchment. Who the hell had come up with these questions? Some simpering little poodle with a stick of crazy up its ass, probably. Finally huffing out a sigh, Claude answered, "The Coach and Horses." And anyone who didn't get that reference was an idiot.
B. Gryffindor ā Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.
"Oh, for the love of the mother and her crown!" Standing up in violent temper, Claude scowed down at the paper. "People. People. All you go on about, isn't it? Well, let me tell you - there's no mythology in the world that can erase the simple truth that everyone is just out for themselves. In the end, you're going to get screwed and screwed royal. Got thin soup and that's your supper, nothing you can do. So what does it matter who this Harry ends up with? He's going to get strung on a leash and patted on the head and held down no matter what, and that's the truth. Only way to be free is to get rid of all the people what are clogging up your life. Bah." Collapsing back down into the chair, disgusted, Claude waved his hand. "Better if Harry just disappeared. That's your answer."
C. Ravenclaw ā You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though Iām constantly disposing of it.
"Never said I was smart, friend." Claude had found an apple somewhere in his coat and was now chewing away. "And I don't give a flying pig about your papers. Burn 'em, fill 'em out, throw 'em away. Makes me no mind."
D. Hufflepuff ā Prove you are not useless.
Studying the question for a long moment, a variety of half-hidden emotions crossed Claude's eyes. But, in the end, he just shrugged. "I am. I'm no one. I'm Claude Rains. Just ignore me and I'll fade away."
6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.
Oh, bloody freaking hell. Digging in his pockets with a scowl, Claude slammed down a wad of cash, a few watches, some wallets, another pretzel, half a dozen ink pens, a scarf, and some bird seed in a plastic baggy. "There. Take what you want. But don't bother me with complaining about them; I have what I have and no more."
Thus stated, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting for judgment.
The Sorting Room appeared to be empty. For a few long moments the application and the quill poised, waiting, seemingly for no one. Then, with a flicker, a man appeared in the center of the room, eyes warily searching the corners before he approached the table.
He was, in a word, scruffy. Worn clothes, shaggy beard and hair, the all over hunched look of someone who didn't sleep in a clean bed every night. Homeless, one might even say. A bum.
Pulling a soft pretzel out of his pocket, he began to absently munch on it while he looked around. "What kind of place is this?" His North London accent was thick and his eyebrow twitched up in an expression that might have been amusement. Or could have just as easily been disgust. It was hard to tell.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Now that question was out of the ordinary. Pausing, looking around one last time, Claude shrugged and slid into the seat, popping the last of the pretzel into his mouth and brushing off his hands.
"Right, okay, cheese." The quill helpfully jotted down his words and Claude let out a snort. "Nice trick." But he looked around again, nervous, before hunching over the application, almost as if to present a smaller target. "Um, well, can't say that I'm much of a connoisseur. Good basket of chips and a beer's all I usually need, you know? Nice steak, whatever I can nick. But if I had to choose, I guess I'd say cheddar of some kind. Versatile, yeah? Lots of things you can do with it. Tastes good on sandwiches."
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
For a moment, Claude remained absolutely still. Then his teeth bared slightly and his eyes tracked the quill, waiting on the parchment. The Company had some odd tricks in its sleeve, but this was weird and random, even for them. He hadn't been followed. He was sure of it. And, so far as he knew, the Company didn't have a presence here. Still, that question made something in him freeze up and it was, with effort, that he relaxed enough to grit out, "Neither. Why bother? Done nothing to me, have they? Live and let live's my motto. Don't make waves. They go about their business and I can keep to mine."
3. What time is it where you are?
"'Bout quarter past three." A faint smile crossed his face as he checked a shiny new Rolax on his wrist. "Unless that fat guy sweating in his suit at the airport didn't kept his watch wound."
4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.
"Please." Claude snorted loudly and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs and resting his feet on the desk. Still cautious, gaze still jumping around the room, he nonetheless was amused by the question. "Think I'm going to waste time on harassment? Let me tell you something, friend. People suck. Every last bleeding one of them. Girl, bloke, something in between - they're all going to hold you back, keep you on a leash, and then shove you ass over kettle when they get the chance. Better to go it alone. At least then you're not going to wind up bleeding, with your ass in a sling because you trusted someone you shouldn't. Harassment is more trouble than it's worth."
5. If you are pushing to be in:
A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.
Rolling his eyes, Claude glared down at the parchment. Who the hell had come up with these questions? Some simpering little poodle with a stick of crazy up its ass, probably. Finally huffing out a sigh, Claude answered, "The Coach and Horses." And anyone who didn't get that reference was an idiot.
B. Gryffindor ā Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.
"Oh, for the love of the mother and her crown!" Standing up in violent temper, Claude scowed down at the paper. "People. People. All you go on about, isn't it? Well, let me tell you - there's no mythology in the world that can erase the simple truth that everyone is just out for themselves. In the end, you're going to get screwed and screwed royal. Got thin soup and that's your supper, nothing you can do. So what does it matter who this Harry ends up with? He's going to get strung on a leash and patted on the head and held down no matter what, and that's the truth. Only way to be free is to get rid of all the people what are clogging up your life. Bah." Collapsing back down into the chair, disgusted, Claude waved his hand. "Better if Harry just disappeared. That's your answer."
C. Ravenclaw ā You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though Iām constantly disposing of it.
"Never said I was smart, friend." Claude had found an apple somewhere in his coat and was now chewing away. "And I don't give a flying pig about your papers. Burn 'em, fill 'em out, throw 'em away. Makes me no mind."
D. Hufflepuff ā Prove you are not useless.
Studying the question for a long moment, a variety of half-hidden emotions crossed Claude's eyes. But, in the end, he just shrugged. "I am. I'm no one. I'm Claude Rains. Just ignore me and I'll fade away."
6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.
Oh, bloody freaking hell. Digging in his pockets with a scowl, Claude slammed down a wad of cash, a few watches, some wallets, another pretzel, half a dozen ink pens, a scarf, and some bird seed in a plastic baggy. "There. Take what you want. But don't bother me with complaining about them; I have what I have and no more."
Thus stated, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting for judgment.
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Date: 2007-08-15 07:26 am (UTC)Her arms become uncrossed as she looks at him again rather hard. She doesn't want to judge, because she's become aware that's her most sanctimonious trait and Mel wants to, you know. Be liked.
'Not everyone's out for themselves,' she says eventually, because the angel in her won't let that rest just yet. 'I don't think...'
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Date: 2007-08-15 07:37 am (UTC)((Reposted for typo >>;))
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Date: 2007-08-15 07:37 am (UTC)So, yes, Peter had been walking up from the tent village to lurk in the Sorting Room at random hours, wanting to catch Claude when he finally arrived. The drawing hadn't specified a time or date; for all he knew, the guy might be showing up next year.
He'd just arrived as soon as Claude did, in a rather amusing coincidence of time - Peter had spent the whole application lurking at the back of the room, unseen. And though he was glad to see Claude, to know that he was still alive, his happiness was a short-term thing.
Features darkening in anger, Peter wasn't going to give Claude a chance to avoid this. So he quickly stormed over, scowling heavily, and threw a solid punch at Claude's jaw. Served him right.
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Date: 2007-08-15 07:51 am (UTC)For a second Claude just stared at Peter. Though the man wouldn't admit this for all the tea in an east London housewife's kitchen, he'd come over to Scotland to find Peter. He'd heard rumors that the kid hadn't actually died, which was amazing enough, and despite everything Claude would profess to believe and feel, he'd been worried. So, a nice free transatlantic flight later (courtesy of walking, invisible, onto the plane and then plugging up one of the toilets after takeoff so he could have some privacy) and here he was, easy as soup.
Of course, now that he was here, he almost didn't know what to do. Rubbing his jaw, Claude's eyes scanned Peter. All in one piece, no chunks missing, so that was better than he'd expected. "Well, you're alive," he said finally, heaving himself to a sitting position and grinning a bit wildly. "So there's five bucks I've lost. And," he felt his face tenderly for a bruise, "all grown up with his own puppy pair of balls. So, you managed to not blow us all up, then? I'd say well done, but it was probably more like a nice bit of luck, am I right?"
Then he gave a short laugh and stood, brushing off his jacket. "And you look like shit, so I know you're not getting laid regularly. No hero statues, then? No parade for all the people you saved by not screwing up?"
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Date: 2007-08-15 01:28 pm (UTC)"Have you ever considered writing a book on human relations?" House piped up sarcastically, taking a lollipop out of mouth just long enough to talk. Critically, he eyed Claude, mentally ticking through a list of diseases easily picked up by living on the streets, and what possible symptoms he might have based on appearance.
Pity. He looked obscenely healthy for a bum. "You'd have a lot of free time to write it, too," House gestured at Claude with his lollipop, "Your general twitching when you first arrived indicates that you're on the run from something, which is boring because I'd bet you $100 they're not here. Either that, or you've got some sort of motor neuron disease causing muscular twitches, and that would be interesting."
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Date: 2007-08-15 04:53 pm (UTC)"So, you're some kind of doctor, then." Wasn't a question and Claude studied House with narrowed eyes. "Get into it because you wanted to be God or because you don't think there is one?"
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Date: 2007-08-15 06:10 pm (UTC)And then a moment's pause, before he hit the point he was obviously looking for in this conversation. "Invisibility." He tilted his head, curiously. "Interesting, I'd like to see how that one works."
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Date: 2007-08-15 06:24 pm (UTC)Claude had worked a long time for the Company before he'd been chucked aside. He knew when to trust his gut. And his gut was telling him that Sylar was the type of bloke he'd have been sent in to bag and tag. Playing the gruff homeless guy was second nature to him; if that didn't work, Claude didn't doubt his ability to extradite himself from the situation. He'd survived a lot worse that one scrawny little punk.
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Date: 2007-08-15 06:51 pm (UTC)"Thanks for that, pal. The world's the top, we're the bottoms, and only isolation is the safety word. Probably could have accomplished the same spin with, I dunno, a sports metaphor, but no. You had to freak us all out." Ron shook his head, slightly exasperated, but otherwise alright. One thing was for sure, he was back in Hogwarts
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Date: 2007-08-15 07:01 pm (UTC)Weird spot, this.
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Date: 2007-08-15 07:07 pm (UTC)And, well, certainly even less people that looked strikingly similar to him, too. "That's a nice surprise," he muttered to himself.
"Think you serve as a good reminder why I never really considered facial hair." But this guy sounded like him on a bad day, hating on people/species just because he could. "You protect you an' yours. Commendable, but c'mon. Claude Rains?" Insert eyebrow raise here. "Either your parents must've been real movie buffs, or that's a creative little way of sayin' John Smith." Okay, well, that was mostly his go-to name. "Or John Doe. It's always Johns, for some reason. Anyway--don't exist, do you?"
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Date: 2007-08-15 07:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2007-08-15 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-15 08:02 pm (UTC)Claude just stared. "Y-yeah," he stammered, checking out the little green
muppetguy with an expression of bafflement. His normal facade of uncaring annoyance was gone. The Company sure as hell hadn't covered this in the training videos. But, after a minute of gaping, he forced his mouth closed and scowled. "Crazy's preferable to dead, friend, which is what you'll be if you start letting people matter."(no subject)
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Date: 2007-08-15 11:44 pm (UTC)Might as well get it over with. "Claude."
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Date: 2007-08-16 03:08 am (UTC)"Rookie."
And then he threw a punch straight for Noah's jaw.
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Date: 2007-08-16 03:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 07:09 am (UTC)He did try, several times, to speak. His mouth opened and shut, and he stared with wide eyes down at her. Then, he pursued the only course of action he had left.
Claude disappeared. And then he ran like hell to the other side of the room.
Hey, he never claimed to be brave.
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Date: 2007-08-16 03:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-16 06:38 am (UTC)He'd lied, of course. But there was no way he was going to tell a random, wide-eyed girl much of anything substantial. Or truthful, for that matter.
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From:Vote: Bitchiwitch
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Date: 2007-08-16 06:56 pm (UTC)Hallo! I am Franz Liebkind, und zese are my friends Vinston und Greta! *indicates birds* You like to sing und dance, Herr Cloud Rains?
((This ought to be fun.))
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Date: 2007-08-18 06:56 am (UTC)"No, friend, can't say I sing or dance or do the Macarana or shake it like a Polaroid picture. Not really my style." All this talking was beginning to wear him down. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he studied Franz with a grimace. "Let me guess. You sing and dance." God help him.
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Date: 2007-08-16 07:00 pm (UTC)"Hiya!" she says. "How're you doing, Claude?"
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Date: 2007-08-18 07:52 am (UTC)"I haven't met such a total hobo since Dr. Hobo himself applied here. Gosh, you must have a lot of threesomes!"
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Date: 2007-08-18 08:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
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From:Sparklypoo!
Date: 2007-08-18 08:34 am (UTC)Welcome ... to Sparklypoo!