Pixie Dust, Late Tuesday Night

[tinkerbitch.livejournal.com]

What sort of demented people sent shipments this late? Humans were insane. Just because she'd specified it was a rush order was no excuse for them to call and wake her up when decent people were sleeping and make her come down here to sign forms and put things away.

(All right, she hadn't been sleeping. She had been drinking Squall's tequila. But that didn't change the fact that decent people were asleep.)

She was never, ever using that stupid carrier again.

Pixie Dust isn't open, but the lights are on and the door is unlocked, if anyone is curious and wants to deal with an enraged, drunk pixie.


(OOC: expecting someone, but also open for your masochistic insomniac needs.)

Comments

[way-black.livejournal.com]

Blackheart was a demon. He wasn't really likely to be asleep in the dead of night, was he? It was comfortably dark outside at night, he'd learned, and he fully intended to be out and about to learn all about the island that he was stuck on.

Not much really caught his attention, but he did have something of an affinity for lights (his father absolutely hated bright light, he had used it many a time to piss the old man off) and found himself gravitating toward the store.

Pixie Dust. Nice. Girly, but nice.

Blackheart really had no need for knocking or paying attention to signs, so he invited himself inside.