night out // tyler

[LOGAN GRIMMSCAR]

A cool breeze slowly wafted through the air, the crisp night cooling rapidly as the moon ascended the sky above. Few clouds hung above to watch all below, their figures dark highlighted by a white glow from the moon rather than the traditional white and fluffy, all to be attributed to the night alone. On the streets below walked a lone man, black boots scuffed occasionally and dirtied light thudding against the ground with each step, the black pants above rustling lightly with the rhythm of the boots. The man responsible for both had been making his way towards a decent bar nearby, taking a break from his usual duties to take up a drink and perhaps some company.

Blonde locks flowed out from beneath a clear red hood, strands wavered with the breeze and danced around the face of the young male, his eyes sharp and cold as he stared across the distance, his features stern and troubled but hopeful. Both hands deftly slid into the pockets of the red hoodie, the front zipper undone to reveal naked flesh beneath scarred by ink and a few wounds.

Eventually he came to the front door, pushing it aside and sliding in he made his way to the rounded bar. Pretending to pay little notice of anyone else, he ordered a drink and kept his head down, the blonde locks now falling towards and bar. He hadn't been so ignorant though, he'd noted nearly everyone in the joint, and spotted some marines nearby, they were off-duty from what he could judge, but a marine was a marine, not some device you could switch off and leave alone.

A mug was slid before his features along the bar, the liquid sloshing gently as it came to a still and settled. So far the choices of company were low, but the night was early and the drink were few. He still had a chance to make the night more memorable. Swiftly taking out a cigarette and sliding it between his lips, he followed up with a lighter before pulling some in. Only to let it back out a moment later. What did the night have in-store for him?

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[Tyler Knox]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][style= width: 370px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 1em #888888; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/DVj2Z.png); padding: 20px; border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; border-bottom: 5px solid #999999; border-top: 5px solid #999999][style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px]or he'll say he's just not the[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: right; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -30px; margin-right: 5px]same[/style] [style= width: 345px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px][/style] [style= color: 000000; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 9px]TAGS logan grimmscar NOTES n/a[/style][style= width: 350px; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; color: 000000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px]And today was simply not the best day in Tyler's life. From morning to night, Tyler's ass was called all over the ship, and he was forced to work his ass off. It was to be expected, of course, considering Tyler had reported late for duty on the first day. And not only that, but he had reported to the wrong fleet as well. In short, he had ashamed the 16th fleet simply for being under their banner. He sighed, as he sat alone at the corner of the bar, slouching against the seat with his legs spread out wide under the table, one of them sticking out already. He held in his hand a small shot glass, as he twirled in around slightly, allowing the liquid it contained to twist around. He was clad in his usual attire. A white dress shirt worn, with the buttons closed up save the collar. It was tucked into a pair of black slacks, which fit him rather well, ending with a pair of shiny leather shoes. Upon his right thigh, strapped and in plain sight, was Excision, the man's flint-lock pistol. A weapon left behind to him by his older brother. His black overcoat, a signature piece of clothing for the young 19-year-old, simply lay draped over the back of his chair. And his satin white gloves were laid out before him, on the table. He brought his shot glass up, pouring the liquid straight into his mouth, and he swallowed quickly, not wanting the burning sensation to linger too much in his mouth. He wanted to just try and calm himself down, not drink himself to a headache in the next morning. That would just be disadvantageous in the end. Just a few shots wouldn't hurt no one. He reached forward with his left hand, grabbing the bottle, as he poured himself one more shot. "Oi, rookie!" Tyler ignored the other Marines in the bar, the young man not really in the mood to socialise. He was too exhausted. [/style] [style= float: left; background-image: url(http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c356/Kai790/Gilbert/023.png); margin-right: 25px; margin-left: 10px; width:100px; height:100px; border: 2px solid #999999; border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px][/style][style= width: 200px; font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; padding: 10px; float: right; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px; margin-top: -15px; margin-bottom: -20px]and you'll begin to wonder why you[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -5px; margin-right: -5px]came[/style] [style= width: 220px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px; margin-left: 130px][/style] [style= font-family: georgia; color: 000000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 8px; line-height: 70%]coded by JIN of PRE & OTE[/style] [/style]

[LOGAN GRIMMSCAR]

Taking up the idle mug that patiently awaited his digits, he pulled the mug to his lips, the cool liquid going down easy. Placing the mug back on the bench, the hunter took another pull from his cigarette, pulling in a lung-full, he tilted his head back and let the smoke slowly trail out of his parted lips. Oh how the routine was so drilled into his system. He used and abused his body so often, doing so was part of his every day. The liquid and smoke all too familiar companions in such a well known environment, it was nearly home for him.

He'd had the day off in a sense, merely tracking and gathering information on a particular target that had a sub-decent bounty on his head. The man was slippery, but not non-existing, he still left a trail but it was minimal. That alone told Crimson that he wasn't facing a rookie, but a veteran, someone he had to be careful with. Taking a quick look around the room, he took note of a marine at the corner of the bar, but soon let his eyes drift elsewhere as the man held no interest, pretty much the same routine for everyone his eyes encountered.

Turning his attention back to the mug and cigarette, he sat there for a while, idly consuming both as the time passed and his mind slowly eased off of the job. All had been quiet and peaceful, but that changed. A group of marines had called out to another, and by the looks of it the call went ignored. He wasn't sure if they were buddies or not, but he kept his eye on the situation none-the-less, just listening from afar for anything worth remembering.

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[Tyler Knox]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][style= width: 370px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 1em #888888; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/DVj2Z.png); padding: 20px; border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; border-bottom: 5px solid #999999; border-top: 5px solid #999999][style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px]or he'll say he's just not the[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: right; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -30px; margin-right: 5px]same[/style] [style= width: 345px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px][/style] [style= color: 000000; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 9px]TAGS logan grimmscar NOTES n/a[/style][style= width: 350px; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; color: 000000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px]"Oi, Rookie. I'm talking to you!" The Marine shouted again, the group of four all glancing towards Tyler. And the 19-year-old simply rolled his eyes up to meet their gaze. He slightly furrowed his eyebrows, but other than that, he made no action. And with a single lock of three seconds, he turned back towards the table. There was no point entertaining them. They may be colleagues, but Tyler barely knew them. And as far as Tyler knew, they may just be privates. Grunts. The elitist part of his mind was slowly beginning to rear its ugly head. Of course, this would only serve to annoy the Marines, who grumbled. One of them began to get up, intoxicated clearly from how steady his rise was, before he walked over to Tyler. Tyler groaned, catching the action from the corner of his eyes, as he adjust himself on his seat, pushing his bottom further up the seat, as he sat up straight then. He would turn to face his table fully, as he replaced his grip on the shotglass with his left hand, his right hand sliding down to his right thigh. No, he was not going to shoot a fellow Marine, but Excision was more than a gun. It was a tool. And it was a hard tool. A good smack across the head would be enough to take the man down. "Oi, I'm talking to you." What was with him and all his 'oi's? The man spoke as soon as he arrived on Tyler's table. And with that, the 19-year-old displayed the ruthlessness that he was raised with, as he slowly raised his head. With a pair of ferocious golden eyes, he glared at the man. He may be older, larger and probably stronger, but he realised then just how serious Tyler was from the sheer gaze, and it caused the man to step back. "And I'm ignoring you. Or is that not clear enough for you?" Tyler replied, the scene obviously catching the eyes of many other patrons in the bar. [/style] [style= float: left; background-image: url(http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c356/Kai790/Gilbert/023.png); margin-right: 25px; margin-left: 10px; width:100px; height:100px; border: 2px solid #999999; border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px][/style][style= width: 200px; font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; padding: 10px; float: right; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px; margin-top: -15px; margin-bottom: -20px]and you'll begin to wonder why you[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -5px; margin-right: -5px]came[/style] [style= width: 220px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px; margin-left: 130px][/style] [style= font-family: georgia; color: 000000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 8px; line-height: 70%]coded by JIN of PRE & OTE[/style] [/style]

[LOGAN GRIMMSCAR]

Oh how the liquid could affect the foolish or unprepared. Liquor was a strong drink, an even stronger weapon if used correctly but most of all, an easy way to forget your troubles. Crimson had kept his business separated from the other patrons for most of the night, his attention focused on himself for once, as everyone else was as well. His mood was mellow and low, but not in a bad sense, he was just feeling a bit out of it, a bit bored if anything. Nothing had happened that day, leaving him with little to amuse or distract himself with. Those were the days that the bounty hunter despised most. If he had a distraction, entertainment of some kind, he could survive and make the day as good as any.

The marine that had called out earlier managed to do so again, this time alerting Crimson to the state of his being, intoxicated. Never something you want to bother with, and here this wanker was looking for trouble by the looks of things. Logan didn't need to see, or even glance at them to know what was happening, his ears were well prepared enough. The yelling, then the scraping of the chair as the man got up, too careless to lift the chair. Shortly followed by the uneven and heavy footfalls. The bounty hunter patiently waited for the scene to unfold, but hurried to prepare himself as he took hold of the mug and emptied half the contents into his stomach at once, soon followed by taking a long drag from his cigarette before driving the burning tip into a tray.

Along the back of his belt, crossed over and with butts pointing outwards say both holstered pistols that he could wield, while he had no intention of killing any marines, the distraction of a loud shot often confused those nearby long enough to attack and disable a person or two if they needed it. With the distraction of his cigarette and drink out of the way, Logan was free to focus on the trouble brewing nearby. A quick glance at the marine told the hunter that he wasn't in a mood to be messed with, troublesome for the marine pestering him because he would be too drunk to care. Should any of his buddies get up, Crimson would intervene, but should it be the lone marine verse the officer, he would wait to see how to proceed.

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[Tyler Knox]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][style= width: 370px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 1em #888888; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/DVj2Z.png); padding: 20px; border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; border-bottom: 5px solid #999999; border-top: 5px solid #999999][style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px]or he'll say he's just not the[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: right; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -30px; margin-right: 5px]same[/style] [style= width: 345px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px][/style] [style= color: 000000; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 9px]TAGS logan grimmscar NOTES n/a[/style][style= width: 350px; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; color: 000000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px]"Why, you..." Ah, the cliche reply to an utter defeat in words. Tyler shook his head, as the Marine's fist would clench. He was not sure what the man's rank was, but Tyler was a dutiful Marine, and he would take it upon him to put a fellow man in place if need be. This was not how a Marine should be acting. Rowdy, drunk, mindless. He would wait for the first action, of course. If anything, he'd be able to defend himself in court marshal with the stand of self-defence. Tyler was not idiotic enough to throw the first punch. He would wait. And then, the punch came. Tyler took a deep breathe, as he closed his eyes. And the sound of flesh upon flesh came, Tyler's head jerking to the side. His brain rattled in his skull, his whole body jerking with the impact. Damn, that was a good hit. Tyler's eyes would widen as soon as his head stopped moving, as he coughed, the alcohol in his head being mixed around from the impact. Alright, maybe that was a little more than he had anticipated, but it was enough for him. The Marine pulled his fist back, aiming to send in another one, but now that the man had landed the first hit, upon the witness of the other patrons and the barkeeper, Tyler could move. He swung his left hand upwards, spraying the alcohol onto the man's face and disorienting him. Tyler pushed off his seat, throwing the chair back as he swung his gun upwards. The top of the barrel smacked into the underside of the man's chin, his body turning slightly from waist up from the movement. The impact caused the man's head to jerk backwards, as he staggered backwards, before finally falling to the ground, dazed. Tyler holstered his gun once again, before rubbing his left cheek with his left hand. Damn, that was a good hit. [/style] [style= float: left; background-image: url(http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c356/Kai790/Gilbert/023.png); margin-right: 25px; margin-left: 10px; width:100px; height:100px; border: 2px solid #999999; border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px][/style][style= width: 200px; font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; padding: 10px; float: right; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px; margin-top: -15px; margin-bottom: -20px]and you'll begin to wonder why you[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -5px; margin-right: -5px]came[/style] [style= width: 220px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px; margin-left: 130px][/style] [style= font-family: georgia; color: 000000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 8px; line-height: 70%]coded by JIN of PRE & OTE[/style] [/style]

[LOGAN GRIMMSCAR]

So his guess was right, the man was completely drunk and out of it. His speech had rapidly declined, now producing no more than 5 words each time he attempted to talk. The whole thing amused Crimson somewhat, most likely because he wasn't at the end of it, and thus didn't have the put up with the annoying bit, instead he could sit at the bar and wait for the whole thing to unfold. He still kept his senses about him, but none of the other marines had gotten up to support the loud-mouthed fool, which was still a shame in his eyes, he would have liked to have stepped in.

Instead for now he was stuck waiting, watching and listening like the rest of the patrons. Even the barkeep kept quiet and watched interested. Logan decided to prepare himself to intervene if he had to, sliding his chair backwards silently to give himself more room if he needed it. And then it happened. The marine wound back his fist and clenched it tight before unwinding a decent blow that collided with the officers jaw. Logan couldn't help but smile, the lack of reaction was surprising, but explainable. He knew full well how the marines worked, the one at fault was always the first to throw, ie. the initiator. Same existed for local laws.

The tactic was clever, but it also let the hunter relax as he knew right then that the officer was in no trouble. Someone doesn't take a hit unless they're looking to give something back. There was an eerie quiet among the bar after the hit, like everyone was holding their breath waiting to see if the officer would come out okay. Okay was a slight underestimation however, he was more than okay. The glass was jerked in the air, sending the remainder of the shot into the marines face.

Disorientated and unable to tell head from tails, the offending marine then copped a strike to the chin, sending him reeling. Finally he crashed into the ground, his body not far from where Crimson was sitting. The hunter looked from the marine back up to the officer, the hoodie blocking the majority of his face but few features would be visible. With a swift hand signal, he ordered a shot of glass before downing it. He had a feeling that he would be called upon later for a witness order, meaning he would have to remain sober until it was completed. Now how would the night proceed?

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[Tyler Knox]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][style= width: 370px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 1em #888888; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/DVj2Z.png); padding: 20px; border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; border-bottom: 5px solid #999999; border-top: 5px solid #999999][style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px]or he'll say he's just not the[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: right; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -30px; margin-right: 5px]same[/style] [style= width: 345px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px][/style] [style= color: 000000; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 9px]TAGS logan grimmscar NOTES n/a[/style][style= width: 350px; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; color: 000000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px]There were sounds of slight chaos as chairs were pushed across the ground for brief distances. Exclaims were produced from the other three marines as they all got up from the table. And all of them hurried towards their companion, surrounding him and helping him up to a seating position. All four of them glared upwards, towards Tyler, who could only glance back at them lifelessly. He was in completely no mood to handle this. He took a deep breathe, shaking his head, before letting it out in a deep sigh. And then, letting his golden eyes traverse from one man to the other. "I am Petty Officer Tyler Knox, and I can remember each and every one of your faces. Unless you want me to report you four for insubordination and improper public conduct, I suggest you leave the premises and return back to the ship. You have-" The 19-year-old raised his right hand, straightening it in front of them with his palm facing the quad. Each of his fingers were extended, and one by one, he curled them in. "-5 seconds." The Marines panicked. They were unsure what to do, and Tyler had just placed a big pin on them. Tyler counted down to 4. They finally took to action, doing what the Officer had asked them to do, as they dragged their fallen comrade back onto his feet and dragged him out of the bar. Tyler had only counted down to 2 by the time they left, and he dropped his hand. He sighed once again, before looking towards the barkeep. "I apologise for the trouble. If I may, I'd like to stay and keep drinking." And the barkeep merely nodded, upon which Tyler would return. He passed a single glance to the other male before him. A hooded individual, before returning to his table.[/style] [style= float: left; background-image: url(http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c356/Kai790/Gilbert/023.png); margin-right: 25px; margin-left: 10px; width:100px; height:100px; border: 2px solid #999999; border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px][/style][style= width: 200px; font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; padding: 10px; float: right; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px; margin-top: -15px; margin-bottom: -20px]and you'll begin to wonder why you[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -5px; margin-right: -5px]came[/style] [style= width: 220px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px; margin-left: 130px][/style] [style= font-family: georgia; color: 000000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 8px; line-height: 70%]coded by JIN of PRE & OTE[/style] [/style]

[LOGAN GRIMMSCAR]

As interesting as the moment had built up to be, it died out just as quickly. Only a single incident between the rowdy bunch of marines and the officer. Somewhat disappointing, but drama wasn't everywhere. As soon as the other marines pushed themselves to their feet and scurried over to their friend, pulling him to his feet, Crimson knew the situation was over. His hand slipped away and out of sight before reappearing with a cigarette, lighting the tobacco and then placing it in his mouth. His eyes closed briefly while he listening to the Officer play his role in removing the troublesome group.

It made him wonder slightly, a glance earlier had told Crimson of the young features that decorated the Officer, meaning he had acquired such a position at a young age. Impressive? He wasn't sure, he'd never focused too hard on the ranks of the marines and how difficult it was to acquire that particular position. For all he knew you could sign up at 14 and go from there, he'd heard stories but never witnessed a whole lot. The majority of the marines he crossed were of a higher age bracket.

The group scurried on past the hooded bounty hunter, their faces lined with panic at the short deadline to disappear. A slight chuckle escaped his lips as he took the poison from between his lips, ordering another drink in the process. He turned to face the Officer, his whole body shifting. For a brief second he just stared after having placed the cigarette between his lips. The bartender filled up his glass but before he could put the bottle back, Crimson extended his hand and signaled for the bottle to stay.

"Petty Officer Tyler Knox." Logan let the words drift into the air, still staring at the lone marine. "Care to replace that drink?" His voice was rough, but a sly smile upon his features.

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[Tyler Knox]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][style= width: 370px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 1em #888888; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/DVj2Z.png); padding: 20px; border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; border-bottom: 5px solid #999999; border-top: 5px solid #999999][style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px]or he'll say he's just not the[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: right; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -30px; margin-right: 5px]same[/style] [style= width: 345px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px][/style] [style= color: 000000; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 9px]TAGS logan grimmscar NOTES n/a[/style][style= width: 350px; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; color: 000000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px]"Petty Officer Tyler Knox." Tyler would slowly raise his head, having being called the moment he had sat back down upon his chair. He was not surprised that his name was known. This was, after all, his home-town. He had grown up here knowing the people, which was one of the reasons why the barkeep had allowed the Marine to stay. For he knew the man, and he knew Tyler was no genuine troublemaker. Just a Marine out to do as much good as he could. His golden eyes would traverse, following the wave of the voice down to its origin, as he found himself staring upon the same hooded man from earlier. A stranger. Well, looks like announcing his name had brought upon some interesting events. "Care to replace that drink?" Tyler blinked twice, before glancing over at his empty shot glass. That was right. He had emptied his on the Marine's, hadn't he? He scoffed silently to himself, before dropping his head for a bit, letting it sink in. Yeah, he needed the drink. He turned back up, towards the hooded male. He knew not who this man was, but an offer was an offer, and Tyler knew himself not to be significant enough to be a victim of poison. He got back up on his feet, his right hand swinging backwards and grabbing the overcoat that lay on the chair, while his left hand grabbed both his gloves and the shotglass. Walking over to the man, he raised his empty shot glass in his direction. Resting his overcoat then on the seat two spaces from Logan, he positioned himself between the overcoat and him. He would turn his head slightly towards his companion, before speaking up finally. "And who, if I may ask, do I owe my thanks to?" [/style] [style= float: left; background-image: url(http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c356/Kai790/Gilbert/023.png); margin-right: 25px; margin-left: 10px; width:100px; height:100px; border: 2px solid #999999; border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px][/style][style= width: 200px; font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: center; padding: 10px; float: right; text-shadow: #999999 -1px -1px 2px; margin-top: -15px; margin-bottom: -20px]and you'll begin to wonder why you[/style] [style= font-family: georgia; text-transform: lowercase; color: #FFF380; font-size: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 -2px -2px 2px; margin-top: -5px; margin-right: -5px]came[/style] [style= width: 220px; height: 5px; background-color: 000000; margin-top: -30px; margin-left: 130px][/style] [style= font-family: georgia; color: 000000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 8px; line-height: 70%]coded by JIN of PRE & OTE[/style] [/style]