The Devil's Nest [Monday morning and afternoon]

[unlimitedgoals.livejournal.com]

Joan was vaguely starting to worry. She didn't really start to actually worry until things got severe, because she usually understood what was going on. She hadn't worried when Roger had had his heart attack, because she'd been told right away that he was fine, and that she had to do her job. She'd been concerned, but worrying wasn't on her mind. She hadn't worried when Don had brought in that strange Duck Phillips fellow from England, because of course the men knew what they were doing. That was their business, and she was minding her own.

She was mildly concerned today, though, because after all the fuss she'd been hearing she'd finally put in a call this morning to the switchboard girls at Sterling Cooper, just to check on everyone. Peggy Olson was still missing (Joan was betting on her going somewhere to lose all that frumpy weight), Jennifer had taken Harry back, and no one there even knew who Duck Phillips was.

That was why she was starting to worry. She hadn't known the man long, but she knew what he looked like, that he had children, and that he didn't drink. It was enough to make her sure she hadn't hallucinated the whole thing, somehow.

Work today found her tucked in a corner booth of the club, the house lights on and as welcoming as she could make them, as she went over Eric's accounts with his dry-cleaning on the seat beside her. As tempting as it was to call back and make one of the girls tell her something useful, she had a job here. And maybe she was going crazy, anyway.

[open, whoo!]

Stark Industries, Monday

[endsthegame]

Ender had had his meltdown yesterday; he couldn't afford to have another one.

So he arrived perfectly on time at the shop in the morning, and set up. But instead of concentrating on his increasingly sporadic emails, he was going through a list of the information Ben and him had already collected, looking for a connection. This wasn't enough to make any real case just yet, and solutions were even further away, but he simply couldn't keep wallowing.

No matter how much any of this hurt.

He made a vow to himself to close up early and go back to the dorms, put up some more posters and see if anyone had added anything to the existing ones. There was only a limited amount of good he could do from here - and none at all, as long as he didn't have information.

[[ open! ]]

The Boards, Monday [All Day] :: CAST LIST

[oncourtandstage.livejournal.com]

Before anything else on Monday morning, Troy posted the ( cast list! )

Throughout the day, Troy could be found in the office, doing paperwork as the Boards prepared for the start of rehearsals on Wednesday. So many things that needed doing!

Trooper Station- Monday

[also-audrey.livejournal.com]

And Audrey officially had reason to worry. She'd talked to Agent Howard yesterday, was supposed to call back today to follow up, which she was trying to do now. But when she called his number, she got a wrong number. At which point she called the office and asked for his extension, and no one had any idea who she was talking about.

If she was going to be left out of being a kid, why couldn't she have been left out of whatever this issue was, too?

She was here most days, but figured it was especially important now, in case anyone wanted to come and report any problems or disappearances. And maybe she was trying to figure out how to map the disappearing people when there were several universes or whatever involved.

[And open.]

Cafe Luke's, Monday

[gastronomistic]

Vincent was starting to freak out. Not only was he having trouble getting through to Eureka, but several of his interdimensional suppliers had dried up. Something about Portalocity's shipping department. Of course, he had plenty of backstock, but Vincent prided himself on fresh food.

And, well, when he worried, he cooked. So that backstock wouldn't be lasting that long, anyway.

Today's specials:
Six cheese macaroni
Artichoke and roasted red pepper pizza
Gazpacho
Garlic mashed potatoes
Sweet potato fries
Wild berry salad with fresh croutons
Corn muffins
Fresh baked ginger pear pie
Key lime cheesecake
White chocolate macadamia cookies

Really, that list could go on and on and on.

Dite's Decadent Delights, Monday Afternoon

[glacial_queen]

Things were getting worse. Karla could feel it now, like an odd itching in her bones. She hadn't slept much or very well last night, disturbed by dreams of vague foreboding that she couldn't remember. Those feelings had only gotten worse when she'd gotten Dinah's message. After coming into the shop and absently cleaning up, Karla sat behind the counter, took a deep breath, and called Dinah back.

This was going to be ungood.

Fandom Fish 'N Bait - Monday Afternoon

[asgardcreated.livejournal.com]

The store was open. Thor was wandering around, eating strawberries and chasing some of those small lobsters again. Jon alternating between staring at his blank email box and calling disconnected numbers.

Prepare for distracted Jon if you stop by or call.

Devil's Nest [evening]

[capt-maxfactor.livejournal.com]

Jack, despite running the radio station, only had the very vaguest of notions that something might be amiss.

He was far more concerned with Thanksgiving and who he could weasel free food out of that day.

Tiny was very carefully not making eye contact.

Caritas, Monday

[shagthis.livejournal.com]

To be entirely honest, Jake had spent most of his life wishing he didn't have an older brother at one time or another. However, wishing it and calling home only to be met with concern regarding his mental state when inquiring after Christian's well-being were two entirely different things.

Jake was coping with this weird new development in the way he knew best: with rum. Lots of it.

Art Gallery, Monday Evening

[legion-we-are.livejournal.com]

The so called 'art' that filled the gallery made very little sense to the one dubbed Myria LeJean. In the same way it wouldn't make much sense to a twig. Although a twig would be slightly less pointedly disinterested.

On account of having no higher cognitive functions.

She tilted her head, finding that the body preferred this gesture when looking at the paintings they had placed on the walls. Though it didn't help figure out a half a figgin* of the appeal.



*A whole figgin being far too much.