Stark Industries, Wednesday

[craftyladyparts.livejournal.com]

After her weekly Crazy Science And Phys Ed period, Jess made her way over to Stark's for her first day of 'regular' work. With her other job as a spy, you'd think she would be scoping the place out, hacking into records, that kind of thing. But no. She was using science and electronics to compare whether or not she tasted like SPAM. Because she was pretty sure that's what she tasted earlier when she unthinkingly licked her lips during breakfast. And then her arm after breakfast. And her hair at the lowest moment of her investigation this morning.

To her, it all tasted like the world's most processed meat. But she wasn't going to ask anyone to, you know, lick her as a control. That would be weird. And extremely forward.

So that's why she was behind the counter with her laptop, a can of SPAM, and diodes on her arm and the SPAM. She couldn't quite mechanize taste, but she would gather all the data she could to make a comparison.

Hell of a first day.

[OOC: Unsurprisingly, I'll be on SP throughout the day and fully around this evening!]

The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Night

[justlurkinghere]

There was no ABBA at the bar this week. Thank god. No, instead the DJ was treating everyone to the dulcet sounds of 'The Immigrant Song'. On loop.

It was possibly an attempt to keep Eric from murdering him. Possibly just laziness. Either way, Derek was being driven up the walls. There were only do many times a person could listen to the same song in an evening before they felt the need to hit something.

The Perk, Wednesday Evening

[hatesmoststuff.livejournal.com]

April glared at the barista. "This crap tastes like cinnamon. I told you I hate cinnamon."

With a sigh, the barista informed April that no, it really didn't, and maybe she was experiencing today's bout of Fandom strangeness and just tasting herself.

"That's idiotic," April retorted. "If I had a flavor it would be sour apple." She set the cup down on the counter, licked her finger to find that that was indeed the case, and then crossed her arms over her chest in satisfaction. "Told you."

The barista just stared at her.

"Make it again," April ordered. And without even looking to see if the barista was complying, she stalked back to her table, opened her laptop up again, and continued the very important task of browsing horror movie trailersuntil the aggrieved barista called back over to let her know her drink was ready.

Problem solved.

Cafe Luke's, Wednesday evening

[lovemykilt]

So the plan had been for Priestly to spend the day figuring out all the paperwork that Vincent had left him with and maybe get around to inventorying the freezer.

Instead, he'd gotten sidetracked by trying to work out why he tasted like a defunct specialty beverage.

Clearly, he'd been away from Fandom for far too long.

He sat on the counter -- don't worry, he'd wipe it down later -- with paperwork spread out around him like something had exploded, and tried not to continuously lick his lips. Mm, agave.

Luke's was not open, today, but the new proprietor was around, at least, if anyone wanted to stop in and say hi.