Moriarty's Mansion

Ooc Not cool

Ic Mateo: Too bad.

OOC Don't care. Evil.

IC

Joachim: "You gotta stay..."

Crouch: "Well at least my existence is a universally accepted fact." I smirk at him. "I'm sorry what was your name? Michael Mc-Doesn't-Exist?"

Ooc I'll show you evil.

Ic ....... Very well. -nods to person in black who leaves-

(( Michael Mc-doesn't-exist.
-spits out juice- ))

Pitch grew clearly agitated. He stood with the force to knock the chair to the ground, slamming his long-fingered hands into the table, eyes flashing a dangerous yellow.

"Oh I will enjoy haunting your dreams..."

Joachim: "Sweet, come on in guy... sorry who are ya again?"

Crouch: "Jokes on you, I barely sleep."

Mateo.

"Cool, I'm Joachim." I extend my hand.

Ignores it goes straight back to his corner and stands there in a VERY bad mood-

"Sheesh, ain't ya mr. sunshine?"

I follow him and stick by him, "So... ya a DE?"

Go. Away.

"Just ta piss you off, I'm gonna stay."

I am going to punch you out if you don't LEAVE.

"Afraid everyone needs their rest at some point..."

Pitch smirked, his own eyes flashing a challenge.

Crouch: "Can I have a drink? A strong one? Your sort of challenge bores me, The great Crouch Jr, the surrogate son of the Dark Lord."

Joachim: "yeah?" I raise my fist, "Try it, see what happens."

Turns and ignores him-

"Yeah that's what I thought... chicken."

Ignores-

"Surrogate son of the Dark Lord, my ass. The Dark Lord is nothing to me. He will fall, like all the others."

Pitch rolled his eyes in a smooth hatred, a new chair of Nightmare Sand forming behind him.
He seated himself, folded his hands, and frowned.

"I've lived through all ages. Every ruler has their time."

Even Moriarty could not dispute that. He was, after all, just as human as most other men.

Living forever would be awfully dull, though. He'd probably end up finding some creative way to go out with a bang if he had to endure that.

"Crouchie, do stop trying to show off, it won't work." Jim rolled his eyes. "And I don't have the patience for it either," he admitted. "We're here to discuss, not to see who supposedly has the most standing in the wizarding world."

"You're right, it wouldn't be fair to the rest of you if I stole the show..." I laugh insanely.

Jim bared his front teeth in a feral grin. "I'd like to see you try," he smirked. He brushed a few invisible bits of dust off of his Westwood suit, glancing at Crouch out of the corners of his eyes.

I gtg bye

See you.

Pitch glanced between the two men who had previously been arguing.
Crouch, the one he was soon finding himself to hate... and Moriarty, the clever leader of the pack.

The Nightmare King inhaled deeply, slouching his shoulders and folding his hands on the table, eyes closing in an effort to remain sane.

"As fun as this fight has been, I'm growing quite tired of it. Now... surely, Jim, there's one person in particular you find yourself calling enemy..? I myself have many of the sort, but none that you all could deal with. So perhaps I can lend a hand in exchange for... well... a bit of belief."

Jim turned his attention to Pitch, effectively ignoring Crouch for now. His lip curled. "Yes, there is one, of course. Sherlock Holmes, don't know if you've heard of him?"

The Consulting Criminal let his gaze drift over to the wall, which he stared at thoughtfully. "I'd rather work against him by myself, but perhaps your... talents could be beneficial."