Freelance Police HQ, Sunday

[raspberryturk]

Work. Working. Work. A job. Reno. Reno of the Turks, who had been sadly and sorely deprived of said Turks since the whole fiasco in Edge back in October. He had a job.

And not just any job. He was working for the slightly manic canine and lapine duo that had opened a Freelance Police HQ in town.

Reno, of all people, was working for the cops. He'd actually shown up for work a little on the early side. Got himself acquainted with the office. The dead plant. The noose on the coat-rack. The roadkill calendar. The tied-up guy in the closet who he was apparently supposed to feed now and then. Reno had taken a pickle off the sandwich he'd grabbed on his way to work, and amused himself by playing keep-away with it for a while before actually giving it to the guy.

Okay. So, the fish in the water cooler kinda had Reno a little paranoid, but Reno brushed that one off as the basic survival instinct of every Turk which led them to mistrust every Vice-President they came across.

Once his rounds of the office were complete, he made himself comfortable in the wheelie-chair and put his feet up on the desk, his stun baton at his hip. Kinda like back in Midgar. Back when there was a Midgar.

The Freelance Police HQ was open for business.

Cafe Fina, Sunday

[peace_n_war]

Turkey. The freezers, the fridges, the cupboards. All full of leftover Turkey.

Warren and the cooking staff at Fina had all stared at this excess of poultry for the longest time, trying to puzzle out what to do with it all.

Today's Specials:
Turkey Curry
Turkey Pie
Turkey Stew
Turkey in the Straw

Warren had tried to talk the dishes out of that last one. Straw was terribly flammable, after all.

Cafe Fina was open. And working on getting rid of those pesky holiday leftovers.

Nast Sporting Goods [11/30]

[bigbrothersean.livejournal.com]

Well... he'd survived Thanksgiving, which was actually what he was grateful for. Flaily but grateful.

To keep himself busy, he was at one of the registers and not hiding in the office.

What? At least he wasn't rearranging everything!

[Wait for the OCD is up!]

The Gig, Sunday

[kestrelswolf.livejournal.com]

Firekeeper was not in the best of moods today. It was cold, it was raining, and once again classes had been cancelled and no one had told her. She supposed it was written down on a schedule somewhere, which was all well and good if you could read.

However, she was not about to take her bad mood out on the horses. The bales of hay, however, were another matter. And so she was busy stacking, and moving, and generally just using her frustration to accomplish something useful.

The Gig was open, and promising not to bite anyone's head off. Figuratively or otherwise.

Turtle & Canary Sunday, November 30

[gkar-lastkhari.livejournal.com]

It seemed like one of those lazy days, as humans would describe it. G'Kar wasn't doing much besides writing a few things in his journal.

He was thinking about a few things, however. Perhaps he should take a trip? Explore more of the world.

It did seem appealing.

Today's Squishy Flavors: Peach Mango, Berry, Grape Judas

Stark Industries [Sunday]

[carsexual]

Sam had (narrowly) survived family Thanksgiving. He was thankful that Mikaela had brought a pumpkin pie from the grocery store, guaranteeing one edible thing on the table. He was much less thankful that Mikaela had been subjected to a dinner with his family. But they'd both survived, and she hadn't dumped him immediately following.

After a red-eye back, he got to work on time, but just barely, and collapsed behind the front desk. He wasn't napping, though, he swore. He was just resting his eyes.

Stark Industries was open.

((Come wake up the sleepyhead?))

Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center [Sunday]

[nojesusfreak.livejournal.com]

Biff was at the Arms right on time, putting together a list of things he was thankful for.

A repeat visit of the world's stupidest angel was written in huge, huge letters.

The Arms was open.

[And OCD free!]

Chilly Boulder, Sunday

[the_merriest]

Rikku had a Plan. Or at least, Rikku was going to meddle shamelessly in the affairs of other people. That, too. So she was going to drag her little sib out for ice cream and interrogation. Ice cream helped with interrogation. Seriously.

She was going to bounce and wait and bounce some more.

(Expecting the little sib, but OPEN for all your ice creamery needs.)

Caritas [Sunday evening]

[lots-of-olives.livejournal.com]

When Pepper had come into the bar and noticed that there was only a rather surly-looking young man, she asked him for a martini.

When he brushed her off, she asked to speak to a manager.

When one wasn't available, she asked to speak to another employee.

When she found out there weren't any others, and he had wandered into the back again, she decided to make her own damn drink.

And maybe she could just stay behind the bar tonight. At least until someone competent showed up.

The York Gallery; Sunday [ 11/30 ]

[perfectmissyork.livejournal.com]

Charlotte was expecting the usual quiet Sunday, so she was relaxing with some tea behind the counter, flipping through magazines with a big black marker, circling certain things that she particularly liked. These magazines would later be left in strategically 'random' spots around the apartment, where Dale might find them and get a hint or two for Christmas presents.

Although, really, she should be doing some searching for the next exhibit after the Willey one.

[[ open and OCD free today! ]]