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oh well I saw you at the doctor's, waiting for a test
Who: Aranea Highwind, ???
Where: various
When: May
What: A catch-all
Warnings: none – will update if needed
[Open]
[ Early in the month, her time is taken up by finally setting up the... surprising stock that was delivered to Britches and Hose. She makes an effort to keep things tasteful, at least; shuffling of shelves and the addition of a folding screen to section off the collection of sex toys from the rest of the merchandise, so that people who are just there for pajamas or a sports bra don't suddenly get an eyeful of more than they bargained for. It's a display area more than anything else; one of everything on the shelves, all numbered so people can make a discreet request at the counter and have it brought to them if they're feeling shy. Further into the month the class factor is probably lowered at least a little by the proprietor's black eye, the angry purple-red of it shading through blue and green to a sickly yellow as it heals, like the world's crappiest mood ring.
After the Mayor's little announcement, the accompanying memories, and one very busy day for those trying to keep the network clean of subversion, she leaves the store to her staff more frequently. On those days she's in the bookstore, with an increasing look of frustration as she searches through books and publication dates, with occasional glances to a plasticky card she keeps mostly tucked into shoulder bag. Looking for something and clearly not finding it. Or very occasionally just at home, where anyone who comes calling might catch a glimpse of the cb radio she hauls out occasionally to flick through the channels and find – so far – nothing of importance. But on the days she's in the store, a small sign appears in suggestive proximity to the Official Notices:
Questions? We're happy to talk.
The rest of her time is given to checking in with people she knows. Social calls, except that the most likely topic of conversation is that something in this town is rotten and the stink is starting to be unavoidable. ]
Where: various
When: May
What: A catch-all
Warnings: none – will update if needed
[Open]
[ Early in the month, her time is taken up by finally setting up the... surprising stock that was delivered to Britches and Hose. She makes an effort to keep things tasteful, at least; shuffling of shelves and the addition of a folding screen to section off the collection of sex toys from the rest of the merchandise, so that people who are just there for pajamas or a sports bra don't suddenly get an eyeful of more than they bargained for. It's a display area more than anything else; one of everything on the shelves, all numbered so people can make a discreet request at the counter and have it brought to them if they're feeling shy. Further into the month the class factor is probably lowered at least a little by the proprietor's black eye, the angry purple-red of it shading through blue and green to a sickly yellow as it heals, like the world's crappiest mood ring.
After the Mayor's little announcement, the accompanying memories, and one very busy day for those trying to keep the network clean of subversion, she leaves the store to her staff more frequently. On those days she's in the bookstore, with an increasing look of frustration as she searches through books and publication dates, with occasional glances to a plasticky card she keeps mostly tucked into shoulder bag. Looking for something and clearly not finding it. Or very occasionally just at home, where anyone who comes calling might catch a glimpse of the cb radio she hauls out occasionally to flick through the channels and find – so far – nothing of importance. But on the days she's in the store, a small sign appears in suggestive proximity to the Official Notices:
Questions? We're happy to talk.
The rest of her time is given to checking in with people she knows. Social calls, except that the most likely topic of conversation is that something in this town is rotten and the stink is starting to be unavoidable. ]
for Prompto
Okay, maybe it's a little weird.
She feels better after getting home and stowing the food. A hot shower and a change of clothes, and it's all starting to feel pretty normal by the time she hears a knock on the door. ]
slides in here finally
there's still the last vestiges of light in the sky when he finally does make it to the house, a twitchy sensation under his skin when he takes the steps up a too-familiar pathway, and prompto spends the next five minutes psyching himself up - no more, because he's sure the chocobo chick wants out of the backpack by now considering she's been in it for far longer than she was meant to - before adjusting his grip on the small bunch of flowers he picked up from the florists' on the way and knocking.
clearly he's psyched himself up too much nonetheless, though, because the moment the door cracks open it all comes rushing out in a breath he never even knew he was holding: ) Uh - hey! Sorry I'm late, I, um. Had to go grab somethin' before I came over and actually dropped by the store t'look for you 'cause you said you closed up at five and to come over at six and I thought you wanted to meet, like, at the store after you packed up and all that but I got there and it was shut so I was so lucky I'd brought my bike along and I think Miss Fluffles just really wants to get out of her carrier now, I hope she hasn't made a mess in there or anything --
( HOPEFULLY HE'S NOT SOMEHOW AT THE WRONG HOUSE BECAUSE THIS'D BE REALLY EMBARRASSING. )
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[ Whoops. But he's rambling, which is enough to make her smile, and when she spots the flowers her smile quirks up into grin in spite of herself. She's never really thought of herself as a bring-me-flowers kind of person, but she's touched anyway. ]
Trying to butter me up in case Miss Fluffles craps on me again?
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[ She's so gracious. But they are great - they're very Prompto, and she ends up scrubbing at the end of her nose with the back of her hand like that's going to hide her smile. She moves through to the kitchen, and while whoever stocked the house had thought to include vases, she sets them in an empty glass jar instead with a little feeling of defiance. Then more water in a shallow dish for the chocobo which she sets on the floor, and - ]
Want something to drink? Got soda, orange juice... beer if you're having a fuck the man kind of day.
[ She's not that worried. After her scrap with Nyx and her visit from the Sheriff, she has a feeling the town's law-related priorities aren't focused on underage drinking. ]
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And honestly, it's fucking adorable. ]
She really trusts you, huh?
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You should drop by the post too if you have the time, when we get back home. She'd be happy t'see you!
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well, hell. Maybe with people like Prompto around they stand a shot. She reaches out to stroke over the feathers at the top of the bird's head and promises herself that if they do get back? First thing she's gonna do is take the ship out to the chocobo post. If the birds somehow aren't nugget dinners for daemons by then, Prompto's getting a surprise delivery. ]
Yeah. I'll check it out.
[ It's not a lie. But it's a little too close for her to want to follow that particular thread of conversation. ]
You got dinner plans? I have steak.
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[ And hey, if he learned from Ignis he'll probably do just fine. As far as she's concerned the only way you can fuck up a steak is overcooking it. ]
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You know you're my favorite, but my money's gonna be on four-eyes for that one. Even if the student outpaces the master, he's totally not above sabotage.
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Hey, if you never have a dream you'll never have a dream come true.
So what are the chances I've already got what we need to make this steak work? If it's salt, we're in luck.