Name: Steve Jinks Canon:Warehouse 13 Location: Art Gallery
Jinks still hadn't figured out how he had been whammied. He had to have been whammied, there was no other reasonable explanation for this.. unreasonableness. He had come in contact with some artifact at the real Biltmore, imbued with magic from its original owner and unnoticed over the decades, and gotten whisked away into this weird pseudo-Biltmore in the space. It was easily the weirdest artifact that Jinks had ever encountered, but that wasn't saying much. Things got weirder and weirder around the Warehouse every week, if they didn't get deadlier and more dangerous.
His Farnsworth still hadn't buzzed and that really bothered him. The hotel staff had given him a phone when he checked in, but it was seriously limited. The Farnsworths were supposed to work anywhere and everywhere, and if Claudia hadn't called to at least check up on him in the last 72 hours, something was seriously wrong.
The art gallery had seemed the best bet: plenty of things with special meaning to pick up energy. So he was there now, picking up statuettes and models in purple-gloved hands and carefully dropping them into a foil bag, each time with an expectant wince. Some hotel employee was probably watching him like a hawk, waiting to swoop in when he broke something. But no sparks came. Nothing was kicking him out of this universe bubble.
"Chotsky number sixteen, you're up," Steve said as he grabbed a porcelain figurine of a clown. He grimaced at the face. "You've got to have some bad juju in you."
[NB for those unfamiliar with canon - Jinks has the ability to tell when someone is lying. It's not perfect. General shadiness you can get away with. But he will call you out on a baldfaced lie, unless your character has something to negate that.]
no subject
Canon: Warehouse 13
Location: Art Gallery
Jinks still hadn't figured out how he had been whammied. He had to have been whammied, there was no other reasonable explanation for this.. unreasonableness. He had come in contact with some artifact at the real Biltmore, imbued with magic from its original owner and unnoticed over the decades, and gotten whisked away into this weird pseudo-Biltmore in the space. It was easily the weirdest artifact that Jinks had ever encountered, but that wasn't saying much. Things got weirder and weirder around the Warehouse every week, if they didn't get deadlier and more dangerous.
His Farnsworth still hadn't buzzed and that really bothered him. The hotel staff had given him a phone when he checked in, but it was seriously limited. The Farnsworths were supposed to work anywhere and everywhere, and if Claudia hadn't called to at least check up on him in the last 72 hours, something was seriously wrong.
The art gallery had seemed the best bet: plenty of things with special meaning to pick up energy. So he was there now, picking up statuettes and models in purple-gloved hands and carefully dropping them into a foil bag, each time with an expectant wince. Some hotel employee was probably watching him like a hawk, waiting to swoop in when he broke something. But no sparks came. Nothing was kicking him out of this universe bubble.
"Chotsky number sixteen, you're up," Steve said as he grabbed a porcelain figurine of a clown. He grimaced at the face. "You've got to have some bad juju in you."
[NB for those unfamiliar with canon - Jinks has the ability to tell when someone is lying. It's not perfect. General shadiness you can get away with. But he will call you out on a baldfaced lie, unless your character has something to negate that.]