Café Fina, Saturday

[sexycandlepants.livejournal.com]

Lumiere was grouchy today.
Why was Lumiere grouchy today?
Because Lumiere had missed a week of business.
Why had Lumiere missed a week of business?
False alarm back home. Apparently a girl had stumbled across the castle, and the other objects had been thrown into a tizzy and had demanded that Lumiere return immediately to see to it that she was properly fed and looked after.
Unfortunately, all she was interested in was passing out samples and offering to help coordinate makeup.
Who knew that there were Avon Ladies in 18th century France?

Today's Special Board Reads:

Avon Samples Free With Every Meal! TAKE THEM. PLEASE.

If the servers were extra giggly today, it's because candle hands look rather bizarre after an Avon manicure.

(ooc: Just give me a moment to throw up some OCD, and Fina will be open once more! OCD is up! Have fun!)

Fandom Post Office: Friday morning

[norglomofnit.livejournal.com]

Moist was standing on the footpath, hands on his hips, staring at the decidedly less than glorious looking post office.

This would never do. No one would answer the glorious call of the Postal Service if the home of that service was distinctly lacking in glory. Since he had no intention of running this place on his own, coaxing people to answer that call loomed large in his immediate future.

"Gladys, we're going shopping," he called as he bounded up the steps. Gladys was patiently sorting through the piles of undelivered mail, eyes smouldering with a banked fire. "There must be somewhere we can buy supplies, and there's a decent amount of money in the tills."

The flimsy paper pieces had given him pause - for about five seconds, and then he'd stared at them in wonder. It was just stamps, only better and purpose built. No more carrying around gold, no more needing a horse and cart to shift your fortune - or someone else's fortune, which was the majority of Moist's experience. You could just fold it up and put it in your pocket.

"Yes, Mr Lipwig," Gladys replied obediently, carefully placing the pile of letters and parcels back on the floor.

"You can finish that when we get back. First we--" and by we, Moist of course meant you, "--freshen up the look of the old place, throw up a new sign, and then we deliver the mail. It's bound to get the right sort of attention." As opposed to the wrong sort of attention, Moist thought, which generally involved questions like, 'And what do we have there, then?', 'Well, well, well isn't this interesting?' and, in more extreme cases, shouts of, 'Stop and you won't be harmed.'.

The key was to create the impression he belonged right here, in exactly this place, doing exactly this job, and the best way to do that was to actually belong. There was no room for hesitation or uncertainty. As of this moment, he was the - Fandom? He flipped through the ledger again. Yes, Fandom - Postmaster.

He had a creeping sense that that was far more accurate than he would have liked. This post office felt like a living thing, a patient guardian animal, watching to make sure he'd do as he ought, ready to enforce it with a swift snap if necessary.

He'd learned from long experience it was best not to consider those sorts of things too closely.

Moist brushed himself down, rolling his eyes at his bright golden suit - because while he was prepared to accept he was stuck with being Moist, it would have been nice to have ditched the suit - and waved a jaunty hand in the air. "And we're off."

[ooc: Merely establishing, so no interaction possible.]

All around town and up to the dorms: from Friday mid-day

[norglomofnit.livejournal.com]

Moist had left Gladys getting the Post Office in order, filled a mail bag with the lightest of the mail (Gladys could take the heavy stuff later, right now it was important he be seen), and stepped out onto the streets of Fandom.

Dressed in his (curse it) gleaming golden suit, mail bag over his shoulder, Moist was striding through the town, smiling a greeting at anyone who passed him, delivering the mail with a cheery grin.

Looking at him, it would be hard to doubt that he was anywhere other than exactly where he was supposed to be, doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

Which was kind of the point.

[OOC: Post is totally open! Just specify in the subject line where you're running into him, eg: Outside Turtle & Canary, or Dorm Lobby, or whatnot. Feel free to ask him for your mail if you're expecting something, and he'll give it to you, otherwise townie mail will be handwavily delivered to the relevant addresses, student mail to the dorm lobby. By the end of Friday, everyone will have their mail!]

[OOC2:...and LJ's being the Mother of all BITCAs, so responses may be sloooow.]

Fandom Post Office: Saturday 3/03 9 - 12

[norglomofnit.livejournal.com]

Moist was feeling optimistic this morning. He had a place to live - with free coffee and that was strange but not in any way unwelcome - and Gladys had shined the Post Office up nicely.

"Good morning, Gladys," he called as he threw open the doors. "The place looks wonderful."

"Yes, Mr Lipwig. I Did As You Asked."

"And no problems last night? No one came around asking awkward questions?"

"No One Came By, So There Were No Questions."

That was music to Moist's ears and he was whistling jauntily as he directed her to hang the Under New Management banner up over the front doors. Sooner or later, someone official was going to want to talk to him, but the better established he was, the better that talk would go.

And he had one or two thoughts on how to make it go extremely well.

When he was satisfied with the look of things - just the right blend of shiny new with reassuring old - he settled himself behind the counter, and set himself to reading. He'd gathered everything he'd been able to find that would help him learn as much as he could about this place. (While most of the mail was delivered yesterday, one or two magazines might be a little late.)

The Fandom Post Office was open.

[OCD up! coming. The Post Office is open, yay! I am going to bed VERY soon, but will be up in about five hours for pings. Info Post here on how it works. People who expressed an interest in working here? An email is a'coming your way soon!]

Outside MCA [Saturday afternoon]

[sith_happened]

Anakin had not had the easiest night, but he'd promised Rose that they'd go flying today, so he was waiting out in front of the apartment building for her to arrive, his cloak pulled close around his body.

[OOC: Anakin's here for Rose, but will be okay chatting to passers-by as he waits.]

Sparky Repairs, Saturday

[2-twin-devils-2.livejournal.com]

Due to their extra day Wednesday, the twins were getting pretty sick of this whole work thing this week. They were finally feeling somewhat better from their flu and were trying to tinker with one of the old TVs in the shop to see if they could get it running again.

Sparky's is open~

The Park, Saturday Evening

[water-wonder.livejournal.com]

Tori didn't feel like staying in the dorms anymore, so she now found herself walking in the park. It was quiet and she felt better outside, she could think more easily here.

She was lost in her thoughts, when a familiar humming noise could be heard. Tori tensed, looking around, seeing nothing.

Suddenly, the blinding white light surrounded Tori and she couldn't move, couldn't make any noise. Her powers couldn't help her, seeing as she seemed to be paralyzed on the spot.

And once again, Tori disappeared from where she had been standing.

[OOC: Alien plot, yay! Mainly for strongestgirl.]

Caritas, Saturday Evening

[roadhousequeen.livejournal.com]

Ellen opened up the bar, humming under her breath as she made sure everything was presentable before anyone showed up.

The zombies, being what they may have thought was helpful, decided to play along. Ellen might have regretted having listened to ABBA before she came into work tonight.

[OOC: Am around, but slowish. Feel free to mod Tino if you prefer.]

Devil's Nest, Saturday

[cat-in-the-box.livejournal.com]

Yes, Schrodinger had not opened the Devil's Nest on Wednesday.

Guess if he cares.

Go on, guess.

I'll give you a hint:

He doesn't care about anything else.

Saturday night: On the way to the Park

[lovelylana.livejournal.com]

Lana stormed out of 50 Minotaur Lane, without any clear destination in mind - just a need to be away from that awful Wyatt. When she was far enough away she'd stopped to take some deep cleansing breaths and, since she was practically at the Park, she decided she'd go sit by the pond for a while to figure out where she wanted to go next.

But before she could reach her destination, she heard that strange humming sound again and only managed one scream before the blinding white light had taken her once more.


[OOC: Mostly establishy, but anyone is welcome to see her disappear.]

The Perk, Saturday Evening

[hera-rises.livejournal.com]

After her return to Fandom, Laura wanted nothing more than a good bottle of ambrosia and a quiet evening at home. Sensing this was probably not the best idea for now, she instead set out for town. Her winding path eventually ended at The Perk. There, she ordered a venti, double-shot white mocha with all the whipped cream she was due.

She settled in with the white mocha, an octagonal pad of paper, and a pen.

[Open for any Perk-ish needs.]