[ Blinking into awareness without a clue in the world where she is or how she got there feels . . . well, kinda familiar, in a way Eleanor can't quite put her finger on as she frowns up at what strikes her as a very white, very blank ceiling. Like there ought to be a little color and a little reassurance up there.
It's probably not that weird. She's sure she's woken up with plenty of hangovers in her life — not that she can actually remember any of them, or like, anything at all, so she's guessing it makes sense she's in a hospital if she's got freaking amnesia — but she knows what hangovers are and the gamut of ways they can suck balls, so it's prrrobably not a reach to guess she's the kind of person that wakes up with them a lot.
There's no telltale pounding in her temples or queasy churning in her stomach as she pushes herself up into a sitting position on the bed, though — she feels perfectly fine, actually, which is weird because one thing she definitely does remember is the rack of grocery carts about to mow her down after she'd bent over a fallen bottle of margarita mix in the grocery store parking lot. She doesn't get much time to mull it over before a nurse enters the room, and Eleanor lets herself be poked and prodded, a little nonplussed despite her quip to at least buy her a drink first. ] But I guess that's how I ended up in here, huh? Okay, second base it is.
[ She flops back down when the nurse leaves (without so much as a quelling look at the joke, which, Eleanor thought it was funny, and she also thinks she's taking this amnesia thing in a whole lot of stride and should get some credit for that), eventually turning on her side to size up the forking hugeplant at her bedside — more like a small bush, really — and wait, what? Who the fork says forking, like she's born again or something, much less thinks it.
She frowns at the plant for a very long time, so it's a good bet anyone coming to visit will find her in this state. Though a girl's eventually gotta pee, and maybe, just maybe you arrive right when she lets out a screechy yelp and nearly trips out of her bedsheets at the sight of the clown painting propped against the wall. ]
'go ask alice' employees & loiterers; may 4th, back to the tea mines
[ Well, she can't stare at a plant forever. She won't. Even if it's not all bad, because Eleanor doesn't exactly mind thinking about whoever that venti mocha frappuccino of a woman is with the, like, curly slivers of chocolate on top and probably a lot of whipped cream because of the froufrou hats?
(Or something. Where was she?)
It's just that Eleanor's sure she remembers this plant bursting into flames one time, and sure, there are probably a lot of plants in the world that look like just it, but she knows this is the same plant, and she's pretty certain it died because she wasn't very nice to that woman.
Something about that makes her feel sad, and guilty, and she doesn't like it. So it's time to get back to work. Take her mind off things she can hardly remember anyway.
The customer service comes pretty easy — turns out she's pretty good at the upsizing and the add-ons despite really having no idea what she's talking about (she's a coffee drinker, okay), so, cool! She's a people person, apparently. Even so, for some reason the selection seems a little sparse, and she finds herself voicing this aloud as she looks up at the menu. ]
I don't know, I just feel like there should be more flavors, man.
[ It should probably be noted that there's already quite the assortment of flavors. But where's Three-Day Weekend? Unlikely Animal Friendship? Accidentally Laundered Bill You Found In Your Pocket?
Eleanor Shellstrop | May 2nd & 4th | Hospital & Go Ask Alice | Open
It's probably not that weird. She's sure she's woken up with plenty of hangovers in her life — not that she can actually remember any of them, or like, anything at all, so she's guessing it makes sense she's in a hospital if she's got freaking amnesia — but she knows what hangovers are and the gamut of ways they can suck balls, so it's prrrobably not a reach to guess she's the kind of person that wakes up with them a lot.
There's no telltale pounding in her temples or queasy churning in her stomach as she pushes herself up into a sitting position on the bed, though — she feels perfectly fine, actually, which is weird because one thing she definitely does remember is the rack of grocery carts about to mow her down after she'd bent over a fallen bottle of margarita mix in the grocery store parking lot. She doesn't get much time to mull it over before a nurse enters the room, and Eleanor lets herself be poked and prodded, a little nonplussed despite her quip to at least buy her a drink first. ] But I guess that's how I ended up in here, huh? Okay, second base it is.
[ She flops back down when the nurse leaves (without so much as a quelling look at the joke, which, Eleanor thought it was funny, and she also thinks she's taking this amnesia thing in a whole lot of stride and should get some credit for that), eventually turning on her side to size up the forking huge plant at her bedside — more like a small bush, really — and wait, what? Who the fork says forking, like she's born again or something, much less thinks it.
She frowns at the plant for a very long time, so it's a good bet anyone coming to visit will find her in this state. Though a girl's eventually gotta pee, and maybe, just maybe you arrive right when she lets out a screechy yelp and nearly trips out of her bedsheets at the sight of the clown painting propped against the wall. ]
[ Well, she can't stare at a plant forever. She won't. Even if it's not all bad, because Eleanor doesn't exactly mind thinking about whoever that venti mocha frappuccino of a woman is with the, like, curly slivers of chocolate on top and probably a lot of whipped cream because of the froufrou hats?
(Or something. Where was she?)
It's just that Eleanor's sure she remembers this plant bursting into flames one time, and sure, there are probably a lot of plants in the world that look like just it, but she knows this is the same plant, and she's pretty certain it died because she wasn't very nice to that woman.
Something about that makes her feel sad, and guilty, and she doesn't like it. So it's time to get back to work. Take her mind off things she can hardly remember anyway.
The customer service comes pretty easy — turns out she's pretty good at the upsizing and the add-ons despite really having no idea what she's talking about (she's a coffee drinker, okay), so, cool! She's a people person, apparently. Even so, for some reason the selection seems a little sparse, and she finds herself voicing this aloud as she looks up at the menu. ]
I don't know, I just feel like there should be more flavors, man.
[ It should probably be noted that there's already quite the assortment of flavors. But where's Three-Day Weekend? Unlikely Animal Friendship? Accidentally Laundered Bill You Found In Your Pocket?
—whoa, okay, that's kind of weird. ]