Thursday, September 19th, 2019

thatwaslucky: (just chilling)
[personal profile] thatwaslucky
Rey's days has gotten pretty busy, but in a way she was good with. If she was going to be here, she liked knowing that she was working towards something and wasn't just wasting her time.

That didn't mean she didn't appreciate having a day where she didn't have something already planned to do. It still felt like a bit of a novelty.

Today she headed for the Perk, because while she couldn't justify the cost all the time, once in a while she figured she could get something pumpkin spiced. Once she had that, she found a seat near the window to people watch, and maybe she was trying to listen when she heard one barista ask the other if they had a union.


[Open!]
hernando_fuentes: hernando fuentes standing holding a tea mug (a tea mug)
[personal profile] hernando_fuentes
It was a bright, sunny day outside. Hernando took the opportunity to cold-steep some iced teas and set the dispensers on the counter to catch the light and shine like liquid jewels. Some of the baby chalkboards were shuffled to be the signs. "Jamaica" said one, "Chrysanthemumum Sencha" read another, and "Chocolate coconut roasted mate" read the third.

The rest of the baby signs were parading back and forth by their chosen pastries. Cupcakes, meringues, tiny sandwiches and other savories nestled into tiny pocket breads, a plate of chocolate truffles and some sort of molded whipped confection that looked made up mostly of pineapple and coconut. It was an interesting and eye-pleasing display.

The portrait wall was doing Rembrandt this week, and once again right smack in pride of place was "Portrait of a Man Holding Gloves". Hernando gave the wall a look. He didn't ask. It wouldn't have answered.

Dave was snuggled up and snoozing on his comfy bed near the hearth. Which really wasn't needed in this heat but since it didn't seem to affect the temperature of the room unless it wanted to, Hernando left well enough alone other than to scritch Dave's head a little when he passed him.

[T42 is Open!]
seriesofbaddecisions: (folded arms)
[personal profile] seriesofbaddecisions
It was a quiet day at the shop, and Sabine had a big project to get back to. She was waiting out the day by doing some sketching (and maybe thinking to add some things to the ship, which was the real danger here), and checking the time every few minutes.

Maybe once or twice she checked to make sure nothing was broken and the time wasn't lying to her. Slow days were the worst.

[Open, method post!]
texted3times: (expressive eyebrows)
[personal profile] texted3times
"Your contract is fine," Eric was telling Tiny as they finished up (well, as Tiny finished up because let's be real, here) wiping the bar down. "Generous, even. And I know you hate that asshole Tino and don't want to work at the Perk so maybe shut up and stop whining before I replace you, hmmm?"

Tiny grumbled something about how piano moving had not been in his contract. "That's 'other duties as assigned'," Eric informed him, "and I got it only to prove to Lucifer than no one wants a fucking piano in a bar."

He was extremely annoyed when people started drifting away from the axe throwing and towards the musical instrument.

Stupid Lucifier.
sharp_man: (Default)
[personal profile] sharp_man
Fandom had been relatively normal for a few weeks now, which meant that Hannibal's clients had consisted largely of NPC villagers wanting help for things like suspected infidelity and generalized neuroses. It was all dreadfully boring.

He was currently wondering if he'd be able to manufacture something for his previous client just to make them a little more interesting. If the squirrels were currently on strike, they might be more susceptible to bribes...


Fandom Counseling was open!

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