Patrick Bateman, American Psycho

[in-doesntmatter.livejournal.com]

Patrick looked at the paper in front of him before looking around the room itself. He didn't recall exactly how he ended up in the room or why, but he wouldn't show this. Maintaining his mechanical smile, Patrick carefully removed a pen from his breast pocket. Exhaling, he casually glanced around. He intended to pick up his sheets, blood stained at 400 thread count, not to be answering some sort of sociological survey that would no doubt try and classify him as something lower than he was.


( Allow me to elucidate. )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. _______PB_____
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. ____PB_______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. ______PB_____.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _______PB ______"

((This is Patrick Bateman. If you know him, it's to be expected, if not, WARNING. HE HAS VERY DETAILED, VIVID, VIOLENT inner-monologues which are represented in italics. He won't really kill anyone, just will think about it. A lot.))

Open RP: Guilty? Moi?

[ijk-mno.livejournal.com]

One of the resident detectives is sitting in the great hall, adding sugar to his tea. Two, three, four cubes.

There is no maiming, bloodshed, or rage here. Everything is perfectly calm, and all conversation will be absolutely reasonable, and about nothing more serious than the weather or politics, or the fact that the house elves still unnerve him.

Five, six, seven cubes of sugar, and counting. And it's not even that he's stopped paying attention to what he's doing, though that's true too.