ｊｅｆｆｅｒｓｏｎ．．．is a giant troll (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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pineslog2017-03-01 11:18 pm
royalpassport) wrote in pineslog2017-03-01 11:18 pm
support a local business!
Who: Jefferson and OPEN
Where: Jefferson's tea shop, Go Ask Alice
When: Anytime from March 1 - 10 (barring events, in which case I'll edit this)
What: Just a catch-all now that Jefferson's F I N A L L Y not hiding inside his house 24/7
Warnings: References to mental illness, at most. Will update as necessary.
[Open]
When the snow cleared enough for businesses to open again, Jefferson decided it was time to finally venture into the shop he owns. His mind being as muddled as it is, he couldn't remember actually running this place. It was like... his ownership of the tea shop was a fact that he knew, intellectually, but he couldn't muster any feelings or impressions associated with it.
Not until he set foot inside, anyway. Then it came to him, scattered recollections of setting up shop and managing day-to-day operations worming their way back into his head. Yes, he realized, as he made his way through the shop, from the front room to the back, this is mine. And yet, even then... Certain things were jarring, at odds with his sense of self, such as it is, fragmented and quite possibly deluded.
The decor, it's all wrong. Not to his tastes, even if he can recall picking out this thing and that. And besides, there's something about the mere idea of teatime that sets him on edge, though he can't quite place the why of it.
But at least this little tea shop is something of a sanctuary. If he's here, then he doesn't have to be in that hostile, unpleasant place he's forced to call home. So he opened the shop back up and, with much of the staff having moved on during those weeks he kept the business closed with no word of ever reopening, he's left operating with a skeleton crew. It keeps him busy, if nothing else, and distracted from the mad, impossible fantasies swimming in his head.
By now, he practically lives at the tea shop. Sometimes, he even sleeps in the office here. It's not the healthiest way of going about his life, but a reliance on unhealthy coping mechanisms, too, is familiar. At least there's a strange comfort in that.
Where: Jefferson's tea shop, Go Ask Alice
When: Anytime from March 1 - 10 (barring events, in which case I'll edit this)
What: Just a catch-all now that Jefferson's F I N A L L Y not hiding inside his house 24/7
Warnings: References to mental illness, at most. Will update as necessary.
[Open]
When the snow cleared enough for businesses to open again, Jefferson decided it was time to finally venture into the shop he owns. His mind being as muddled as it is, he couldn't remember actually running this place. It was like... his ownership of the tea shop was a fact that he knew, intellectually, but he couldn't muster any feelings or impressions associated with it.
Not until he set foot inside, anyway. Then it came to him, scattered recollections of setting up shop and managing day-to-day operations worming their way back into his head. Yes, he realized, as he made his way through the shop, from the front room to the back, this is mine. And yet, even then... Certain things were jarring, at odds with his sense of self, such as it is, fragmented and quite possibly deluded.
The decor, it's all wrong. Not to his tastes, even if he can recall picking out this thing and that. And besides, there's something about the mere idea of teatime that sets him on edge, though he can't quite place the why of it.
But at least this little tea shop is something of a sanctuary. If he's here, then he doesn't have to be in that hostile, unpleasant place he's forced to call home. So he opened the shop back up and, with much of the staff having moved on during those weeks he kept the business closed with no word of ever reopening, he's left operating with a skeleton crew. It keeps him busy, if nothing else, and distracted from the mad, impossible fantasies swimming in his head.
By now, he practically lives at the tea shop. Sometimes, he even sleeps in the office here. It's not the healthiest way of going about his life, but a reliance on unhealthy coping mechanisms, too, is familiar. At least there's a strange comfort in that.
no subject
"What exactly makes me seem like I'd have someone waiting for me? Is it the fact that I order a giant cookie every time I come in here or the fact that I remember basically nothing?" Seriously, please tell her. All she knows about herself so far is that she's a criminal with a million last names and a sugar addiction. Not exactly qualities to write home about.
Kenzi frowns when he talks about his home life. It's clearly not a pleasant topic for him and she doesn't want to get driven out of his shop. Especially not when he's sitting down to have tea with her. She watches as he adds cream to his cup and wonders how someone could make him feel that uncomfortable in his own home. There are definitely ways to hurt someone without hitting them and she doesn't like the idea of Jefferson experiencing any of them.
Time to change the topic.
"You know, this is the first time since I woke up that I actually feel normal."
no subject
The smile that's been lingering on Jefferson's face since she made him laugh fades into something a little more bittersweet at her admission, and he nods, glancing at the door, as if he wants to be certain nobody's about to step inside. It's just nice, to be alone with her right now, and he'd like for it to stay that way.
"Me too," he murmurs.
no subject
His smile is infectious. Much nicer than the expression he had on when she walked in and interrupted his reading. Kenzi leans back in her chair, all the tension draining out of her. "Good. No wonder I come here all the time. I mean, besides the decor and steady supply of sugar."
She likes to see him smile. A lot.
"I'm gonna have to tip you something serious for the mini therapy session."
no subject
'Therapy session.' That makes him laugh a little, softly, as he shakes his head. Oh no, he knows all about therapy, and this is a whole lot more pleasant. "Don't. It's on the house." Jefferson points a finger at her and adds: "This time."
You won't be getting free tea and cookies every day, missy!
no subject
She can't contain the pure ray of sunshine that beams directly at his face when he says her snack is free! Free is amazing. Especially when it's freely given instead of stolen. He gets her with that this time and she knows he's not a total pushover. He's clever. Not someone to take advantage of.
"In that case, I better stop by tomorrow and clean you out of tarts." It's only fair.
Another thought floats by, a memory? Being in a bakery and not being allowed to have any-- "I'm allergic to peanut butter!" She just kind of blurts it out. "Did you know that? ...Oh my god, I know that."
no subject
But then, Jefferson's brows shoot up at the sudden revelation. "I didn't know that." But he's suddenly very glad he gave her a chocolate chip cookie instead of a peanut butter one. "See? I told you they'd start coming back."
no subject
She laughs at his reply, averting her gaze and finishing the rest of the tea in her cup. "You're right, you did say that." Maybe there's hope for her yet. Maybe this entire thing is just temporary and she'll start feeling better in a few days.
"I guess I should think about heading... home." That still feels strange to say. Shouldn't home be the one place she'd want to get to more than anything else?"
no subject
Nodding a touch sadly, Jefferson asks, "Do you know your way home? I could... give you directions, if I know the address."
no subject
She's also not blind, she sees that sadness creep into his expression and it makes her feel so ... guilty? For some reason. "I think I can find it. Walking kinda helps, now that I have clothes. You know, with the memory stuff." She pauses, watching him for a second, "Are you working tomorrow?"