Conversational Lithuanian, Tuesday evening

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal arrived at the community center with plenty of time to spare, found the classroom, and set out the food he'd made for the evening. One savory, one sweet, and a drink. Then he made sure there were signs up to direct the students and any drop-ins to where the class was.

( Conversational Lithuanian )

Fandom Post Office, January 7 (Tuesday)

[filleauloup]

Safe to say that Éponine was not in the best of moods after last night, but on the bright side this wasn't cause for a complete meltdown. (Certain people not being in the equation at all changed things somewhat, but there was still ample cause for resentment on both sides. Not that she realized this on any conscious level.)

Luckily it was a busy enough day that she didn't particularly have time to dwell on it: besides the half dozen or so special deliveries that needed to be made, she was in the middle of weighing a customer's parcel for postage when it suddenly sprouted legs and started running around the lobby. It took Éponine, the parcel's owner, and three other customers the better part of half an hour to corral it.

As a result, winter be damned, she went and sat on the front step to take her coffee break. "Bringing your mail in here like that when you can't control it, really," she muttered.

Honestly now.

Corner of Loon Drive and Chimera Court, 8:05 to 8:09 AM Tuesday

[jaegerborn.livejournal.com]

There was something in the air on Loon Drive, right where it met and turned into Chimera Court. Not the machine parts, which had dissipated overnight and left tolerable weather; rather, a shivering, a tiny displacement of light. It lasted for four long minutes, and when it was done, it spit out a single cog before disappearing entirely.

Voices filtered through, but they were not the voices of anyone nearby.

"We had a plan! We discussed this!" A female voice, seasoned with a slurring old English accent.

Shouting, indecipherable, followed.

"You cannot treat the illness! There is nothing on the island that can help you!" Another voice. Male this time. Spanish.

The sound of footsteps.

"Just give her to us!" The first voice again. "This is the only thing you can do for her! Search your heart, sir, you know it to be true!"

And then a third, final voice, American, male, low and growling: "I am not letting you put my baby girl in some boat!"

The cog clinked as it hit the ground, then rolled down the steps. Down, down, down, until it vanished into a sewer grate. Loon Drive fell silent once more. Everything was as it had been.

[[ open for reactions from anyone who might wander by here during this very small instance in time. ]]

Luke's, Tuesday, Jan. 7

[justbeingbay]

Bay was freezing by the time she got to the diner today. What made it even worse was that none of the other diner employees seemed to feel it.

Maybe it was because they were in the kitchen, and it was warmer back there. Maybe they were just trying to freak Bay out. Either way, she seemed to be suffering alone. She rubbed her hands together and tried to think of warm things.

Welcome to Luke's!
Today's Specials: Gazpacho
Sweet Corn Salad
Watermelon Granita

{OOC: Open, no OCD!}

The Streets In Town, Tuesday Afternoon

[playsforkepesh]

Sam was a pushover. She knew this and so did most everyone who knew her well. But rarely had this been made more clear through a single experience than it had as a result of the events of this morning: specifically, her spontaneous adoption of a small dog with floppy ears and huge, adorable eyes.

She would gladly blame the woman at the shelter, but the truth was that she'd barely had to say a word to persuade Sam.

She'd splurged on supplies, including a dog bed, a collar and leash, plenty of food and treats and no small helping of toys, dropped most of those things off at her house, and now she was taking the excitable little pup on a walk through town. The shame of having been so easily persuaded to adopt the dog hadn't quite set in yet, but she was sure it would soon. Now she just had to decide what to call her.

[[so open!]]

Book Haven, Tuesday

[genesishero]

Another Tuesday, another shift at the Book Haven. Today, Evan was going through the books and contemplating putting out a display here for the new residents of the island. The topic of choice? Books teaching survival skills.

It seemed like useful information, here or anywhere, really. Why not sell people instructional material about how to create makeshift water filters, or what weapons were best to use in case of zombie apocalypse.

... Evan really didn't ever want to witness a zombie apocalypse.

[Open, OCD-free! It's Tuesday. Somehow in spite of pinging all my kids into their classes, I missed that memo.]