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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.

Threaded | Flat

The tea shop might not be to his particular tastes, but there's something that catches the eye of a young, slightly dazed, really confused young woman passing by on her way down the street. She stops at the window, peering in, a faint smile briefly ghosting across her face. It looks cute. Nice and bright. The vintage charm makes her think of some elegant lady with her pinky up, sipping from a china teacup with some little sandwiches.

Don't these places usually have desserts? Little cakes and cookies and stuff? Kenzi's stomach seems to growl an answer along the lines of probably, just go in. Who is she to argue with her stomach? It's not like she has anywhere else to be or anyone to meet. Well, she might, but she can't remember anyone else or anywhere else except for the house she apparently lives in with that ... guy... and--

Her brows furrow and she reaches for the door, swinging it open with determination, frustration, and sugar deprivation! Oh no, it's even cuter when you're actually inside! She picks at the hem of her hoodie absently feeling all kinds of out of place among the cheery interior in her gothic garb. There's so much to look at that she kind of gets lost staring at the walls before she can even get near the dessert case.

(Continuing from this thread.)

[ Jefferson tries to put himself together before Jiaying arrives, reasoning that if he looks like he's fine, then she'll certainly believe that he hasn't lost his mind if he winds up spouting out some nonsense about imps who spin straw into gold and caterpillars who like to lounge about smoking hookahs. As promised, he puts a kettle on the stove, though he keeps the burners low until he hears a knock at the door.

He manages to return her smile, even though he isn't feeling particularly... smiley at the moment. At least her warmth is somewhat infectious, and her kindness disarming. Makes sense, he supposes, for a therapist. It's why he stuck with counseling for so long.

Right? ]

Hi. Um. [ He moves aside to let her into the house. ] Come in. Sorry about the mess.

[ There really isn't much of a mess, but he's become something of an obsessive neat freak since his accident (possibly before the accident, actually). Keeping a clean house is about the one thing he can try to control, even as the fantasies in his head start to get the better of him. ]

Edited 2017-03-03 13:23 (UTC)

[ In his room, when he finally gets home and he and Junyoung do the awkward back and forth of 'do I know you? we live together? ok that's weird...' Cassian finds some interesting stuff.

Like a really colorful apron? And paperwork about ordering things for a bakery. Old paperwork, mind...nothing seems to have been directly from right before Cassian got into his accident, but there's also a set of keys. So early in the pre-dawn morning, he heads over to Go Ask Alice, unlocks the door, and looks around.

Okay. This is familiar. Nodding to himself, Cassian wanders through the store, the kitchens, the back rooms, finally reaching the office where he comes across a sleeping Jeff.

He's pretty sure he just woke the other man up so he gives a small wave. ]

Hey. Sorry I wasn't here, I got into some kind of an accident?

[ That probably shouldn't be a question, so Cassian shakes his head. ]

Anyway. Glad to see you, glad to see the shop open.

...Are you okay?

[ Doesn't he have a home to sleep in? ]

Edited 2017-03-03 21:59 (UTC)

It's been a week since Jack joined the latest batch of accident survivors at the hospital (and isn't that weird half the town seems like they've conked themselves over the head in a show of solidarity?), but Jack still gingerly creeps around the town like an intruder, like one wrong glance at a townsperson might bring the full might of the Sheriff's Department down on his head.

... Which it could. He might barely recognize his own reflection in the mirror, but he can say one thing for certain--stranger things have happened than the police shushing people like nitpicky librarians in this town. The sheriff sure seems to come down on people who ask too many questions, and there are plenty of questions that need answering. Like why do they have to stay within town limits? Why can't they talk about what happened before the accident?

And why does he remember things he can't find any trace of in Wayward Pines?

It always comes back to the children in red. Five boys, six girls. A brunette piping on a flute. A shrimpy boy roped with muscle. They're important, he can feel it like a word on the tip of his tongue that he's forgotten but knows is there, somewhere, in the back of his mind. Where are you?

Curiosity, aimless pacing down main street, and the lure of comfort food eventually see Jack entering Jefferson's shop. He doesn't get the theme--he can't remember reading Alice in Wonderland, or if he did, what it's about--but the teacup decor is attention-grabbing if nothing else.

Don't mind this wayward teen if he stands around staring at a menu for a good solid five minutes. When you don't remember what you like or don't like (or perhaps are deathly allergic to), indecision is your new best friend.

Vague sometime after the events of the intro log

BACKDATED: Around February 5th

Late to work for the first time ever ; a few days after intro log? like, 2 tops

March 7th