fandomtownies | Ye Mauvaise Chance Apartment Lobby: Friday Evening [3/2]

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Ye Mauvaise Chance Apartment Lobby: Friday Evening [3/2]

It was latish for being in the office, but Xander was distracted by surfing Ye Olde Internets looking for words that begin with Y, French or otherwise. Ye would clearly only do as a placeholder, since who says Ye without saying Olde, and that would make it YOMCA.

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[OOC: here for Ye (Olde) Postmaster, but open for others as well.]

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There was no way Moist was spending another night in the post office. Luckily the problem of where to stay was easily solved, considering he had a package addressed to an apartment building. Or to someone who lived in one, at least.

He'd saved it for last, figuring it would smooth his way into getting a room. As long as it was supposed to rattle. Delivering something broken would probably negate any advantage. "Would there be a Mr Harris here by any chance?" he asked as he walked into the office.

"Does he owe you money?"

That prompted an entirely genuine smile. "No, but I might have to apologise for damaging this." He held up the package. "It rattles, which may or may not be it's natural state."

Xander peered over the counter at the return address label, which read Rupert Giles, followed by the Watchers' Council London HQ address. "Hey, no, that's my hokey-pokey gourd!" He grinned. "Awesome. I was starting to wonder it ended up in Zimbabwe."

"Hokey-pokey? Never mind, I'm not sure I want to know," he said, placing the package carefully on the counter. "I'll pass it into your care, then, and assure you the problems with the post won't happen again."

"Thanks." Xander slid the package over to examine it more closely, then shook it. "Yeah, that's definitly a good rattle. So are you the new mailman?" he asked curiously.

"Postmaster, actually, but close enough." He smiled proudly while he brushed down the front of the golden suit, cringing internally because he really couldn't stand the thing. "But the new is absolutely correct. And being new," he added. "I find myself in need of a place to stay. Which you might be able to help with?"

"For the Master of the Post? I think I could find a little somethin', yeah." Xander called up the floorplan for the sub-basement apartments on his laptop, and spun it around to face his guest. Whose name he hadn't actually gotten yet, come to think of it. "We've got two open apartments down on the second basement level - minus three and minus four."

"The Master of the Post," he grinned in appreciation, because it was much better than Moist. "Appreciates it. I think minus four," he decided after studying the plan. "Minor cataclysm is somehow more attractive than doom." Not to mention close to the fire exit in case he needed a quick escape. Old habits died hard.

"I think you'll like that one - if you're into coffee, anyway. Just, um. Don't try to wash dishes on the left side of the sink."

"What happens if I do?" he asked easily, casually studying the plan while he memorised the floor's layout. Just in case.

"You'll get coffee on your dishes. Or cream, if you used the cold tap." Xander shrugged. "The rooms down there are a little weird. At no extra charge!"

"Who can argue with no extra charge!" he exclaimed, making a note never to wash dishes. "Which bring us around to the matter of charge. How much for the apartment? And do Postmasters get a special discount?"

Considering that he was still pulling in a salary from the Council and not paying rent himself, Xander wasn't all that worried about how much of a profit the apartment rentals made, as long as it covered upkeep on the building.

"Sure. The standard monthly rent on that size apartment is--" He turned to the counter terminal and pulled up the right page, then named the ~~handwavy~~ figure. "But let's say there's a fifty-buck Postmaster discount. Plus free maintenance." He pointed to himself. "You need anything fixed, just call me."

Moist had no clue at all if that was reasonable. He still didn't know how much value the little notes represented in real world terms.

It didn't stop him from saying, "That's a good deal. Thanks. And I might take you up on that. I've just started looking around, but the post office needs some work. Interested?"

"Fixing stuff that I didn't break myself?" Xander gave a thumbs up. "I'm there."

"Perfect. Not much I don't know know when it comes to the post, but I'm a bit shaky on repairing the post office." Realising he'd put if off as long as he possibly could, he extended his hand, and said, "Moist von Lipwig at your service."

And waited for the inevitable reaction.

Xander blinked, but just the once. After you've rented to somebody named McNinja? It's time to give up on expecting normal names in Fandom. "Xander Harris." He shook the offered hand.

That was unexpected, and he resisted the urge to repeat his name. "Good to meet you, Xander." He looked him straight in the eye, and gave him the firm handshake of an honest man.

"Welcome to Fandom, M--" Yeah, okay. He was totally not gonna manage sticking the one-blink-only dismount on that one. "--aster of the Post."

The near misstep was somehow a relief. Because if he was living somewhere where Moist didn't rate as a silly name? He'd be worried. "And while I may be Master of the Post, even I don't sleep well on a pile of letters, which is where I spent last night." A slight exaggeration, but a good one, he thought. "So you'd have my eternal gratitude if you could introduce me to my bed."

"Letters? I think the hotel might need a bigger sign. I should offer to build 'em one." Xander grabbed the right set of keys and an application form, stepped out from behind the counter and pointed to the elevator. "Right this way."

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Ye Mauvaise Chance Apartment Lobby: Friday Evening [3/2]

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