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fabu and watersword.
What has it got in its pocketses, my preciousss?
Ezra Standish:
In assorted hip, jacket, and waistcoat pockets:
A silver hip flask, half filled with the most expensive brand of whisky available in Four Corners (not, alas, very expensive). A used deck of cards (54, counting the joker and the extra ace of spades), with edges that are just worn enough. A box containing twenty .44 cartridges. A box containing a dozen blank .44 cartridges. A box containing seventeen .22 cartridges. A gold double eagle, two half-eagles, and a slightly worn silver dollar, plus $0.47 in small change. A gold pocket watch engraved with the initials “EPS.” A white linen handkerchief (lace-trimmed) with “MS” embroidered in the corner. A twist of brown paper containing four ounces of real Maryland tobacco, or what Mrs. Potter at the general store has assured him is real Maryland tobacco. A gold signet ring engraved with someone else’s initials. A silver locket with a broken chain, engraved with a different set of initials that are also not his. A pearl-handled clasp knife suitable for trimming cards. A set of steel lockpicks. A string of beads (dreadfully shabby looking) handmade by a child from the Seminole village and never worn. Two sticks of dynamite that Larabee doesn’t know about.
And in his left boot: $300 dollars in greenbacks.
Doc Holliday:
In various coat and waistcoat pockets:
A brand new deck of playing cards, uncut. Two boxes of .45 cartridges, one full and one half-full. A red poker chip from the Oriental’s gambling parlour, never cashed in. A knife with a 4” blade, suitable for trimming cards or sticking gambling partners who accuse one of cheating. Seventy dollars in greenbacks, two gold double eagles, three silver dollars, three nickels, and a penny ($113.16). A volume of poetry by John Keats, with the front cover torn off and the first two pages missing. One letter from Wyatt, folded in thirds and placed inside the book, between “La Belle Dame sans Merci” and “Ode on Melancholy.” A silver pocket watch with an elaborately engraved case. An oval locket with no chain, containing a lock of Melanie Holliday’s hair. Three inexpensive linen handkerchiefs, two clean and one with half-dried bloodstains.
Sgt. David Starsky:
In jacket pockets: His Bay City PD badge. A key ring with the ignition key to one Candy Apple Red Ford Grand Torino. An empty, crumpled Mars Bars wrapper. A pair of police-issue handcuffs. An empty, crumpled Twinkie package. The key to the handcuffs. A half-eaten Snickers bar. A completely tasteless, disgustingly healthy granola bar, in case Hutch wants a snack, too. A receipt from the Chinese/Italian take-out place near his appartment. An extra clip for his service revolver. A New York City subway token. The key to Hutch’s house. Last month’s issue of “The Amazing Spiderman,” folded several times and severely wrinkled.
In pockets of blue jeans: two dollars, faded and crumpled from a trip through the washing machine. The jeans are too tight for anything else to fit.
Jack Hawksmoore:
In the pockets of his suit coat:
A wallet containing a Visa card, an American driver’s license (expired), and fifty dollars in cash. A dime and two pennies. A piece of rubble from Ground Zero. Part of a brick from Chicago’s Wrigley Field. A chunk of asphalt from a street in London. A pebble from an alley in Buenos Aires. A receipt from a tailor's shop in Milan. A few grains of silver dust, because Angie’s nanites get everywhere. A cellphone, set to “vibrate,” with batteries at half-power. A photograph of Jenny Sparks making a rude gesture.
fabu and watersword.What has it got in its pocketses, my preciousss?
Ezra Standish:
In assorted hip, jacket, and waistcoat pockets:
A silver hip flask, half filled with the most expensive brand of whisky available in Four Corners (not, alas, very expensive). A used deck of cards (54, counting the joker and the extra ace of spades), with edges that are just worn enough. A box containing twenty .44 cartridges. A box containing a dozen blank .44 cartridges. A box containing seventeen .22 cartridges. A gold double eagle, two half-eagles, and a slightly worn silver dollar, plus $0.47 in small change. A gold pocket watch engraved with the initials “EPS.” A white linen handkerchief (lace-trimmed) with “MS” embroidered in the corner. A twist of brown paper containing four ounces of real Maryland tobacco, or what Mrs. Potter at the general store has assured him is real Maryland tobacco. A gold signet ring engraved with someone else’s initials. A silver locket with a broken chain, engraved with a different set of initials that are also not his. A pearl-handled clasp knife suitable for trimming cards. A set of steel lockpicks. A string of beads (dreadfully shabby looking) handmade by a child from the Seminole village and never worn. Two sticks of dynamite that Larabee doesn’t know about.
And in his left boot: $300 dollars in greenbacks.
Doc Holliday:
In various coat and waistcoat pockets:
A brand new deck of playing cards, uncut. Two boxes of .45 cartridges, one full and one half-full. A red poker chip from the Oriental’s gambling parlour, never cashed in. A knife with a 4” blade, suitable for trimming cards or sticking gambling partners who accuse one of cheating. Seventy dollars in greenbacks, two gold double eagles, three silver dollars, three nickels, and a penny ($113.16). A volume of poetry by John Keats, with the front cover torn off and the first two pages missing. One letter from Wyatt, folded in thirds and placed inside the book, between “La Belle Dame sans Merci” and “Ode on Melancholy.” A silver pocket watch with an elaborately engraved case. An oval locket with no chain, containing a lock of Melanie Holliday’s hair. Three inexpensive linen handkerchiefs, two clean and one with half-dried bloodstains.
Sgt. David Starsky:
In jacket pockets: His Bay City PD badge. A key ring with the ignition key to one Candy Apple Red Ford Grand Torino. An empty, crumpled Mars Bars wrapper. A pair of police-issue handcuffs. An empty, crumpled Twinkie package. The key to the handcuffs. A half-eaten Snickers bar. A completely tasteless, disgustingly healthy granola bar, in case Hutch wants a snack, too. A receipt from the Chinese/Italian take-out place near his appartment. An extra clip for his service revolver. A New York City subway token. The key to Hutch’s house. Last month’s issue of “The Amazing Spiderman,” folded several times and severely wrinkled.
In pockets of blue jeans: two dollars, faded and crumpled from a trip through the washing machine. The jeans are too tight for anything else to fit.
Jack Hawksmoore:
In the pockets of his suit coat:
A wallet containing a Visa card, an American driver’s license (expired), and fifty dollars in cash. A dime and two pennies. A piece of rubble from Ground Zero. Part of a brick from Chicago’s Wrigley Field. A chunk of asphalt from a street in London. A pebble from an alley in Buenos Aires. A receipt from a tailor's shop in Milan. A few grains of silver dust, because Angie’s nanites get everywhere. A cellphone, set to “vibrate,” with batteries at half-power. A photograph of Jenny Sparks making a rude gesture.
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Usually I just steal 'em but seeing as you came up with it, I thought I'd be polite for once.
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Heeeeeeee.
*takes HALF the blame*