Imperial Junke Yard, Thursday

[notquitewright.livejournal.com]

Marcus had stolen a lot of stuff in his life, but this was the first time he'd ever stolen a job. Far as he could tell, though, it's what had happened.

He'd never actually told anyone he worked here, wasn't his fault if they assumed it, but now it seemed he did. There was an envelope--smudged with grease and bearing the junkyard's name and address--sitting on the crate in the shed, his name scrawled on it in barely legible handwriting. Inside? Cash, and a bit of paper with his name on it and the hours he'd spent down here. He'd never actually had a job before (at least, nothing legal), but he recognised a paycheck when he saw one.

He stared at it for a minute, then pocketed it. Money was money, however it got to him.

Comments

Talk to Marcus

[notquitewright.livejournal.com]

If you can find him. He may be...lurking.

[Mostly because I will be sleeping/at work and so minimally available.]

Entire yards of Junk

[notquitewright.livejournal.com]

Ladies and gentlemen, mod your junk!

Let's Park

[notquitewright.livejournal.com]

For those who might need to park a ship and wish to do so, this is the place to make it happen.

Re: Let's Park

[tatooine-doofus.livejournal.com]

A slightly battered X-Wing, engines whining as it landed, settled down next to the much more modern version of itself in the junkyard, and a young man (though not as young as he'd been the last time he'd been back. Time and circumstance had caught up with him), popped his helmet off and then rolled his neck trying to remove some of the cramps.

"Stay with the ship, Artoo," he ordered, leaping lightly out of the cockpit and falling effortlessly the ten feet or so to the ground.

The little blue-domed droid let out a plaintive warble.

"Yes, I'll tell Jaina you say hello," Luke laughed.

OOC

[notquitewright.livejournal.com]

This is where the clever comment would go, were my brain not entirely devoid of thinkingness.