The Perk, Saturday Afternoon

[so_hawkward]

The island was starting to fill up with people coming back from spring break, so Clint was enjoying the Perk while it was still quiet. For values of "enjoying" that meant staring at his coffee cup and brooding. One of the baristas had even flirted with him, but it hadn't helped. Eventually he took out his phone to scroll through some news websites, but he ended up not reading most of them. Seriously, someone needed to develop an anti-crazy person radar for him or something.

[Open!]

The Arms Hotel, Saturday

[gunslingerpose]

Nikolai had a motorcycle.

Well, okay, technically Gorgon had a motorcycle, since Nick really only left the island to patrol Baltimore and there weren't exactly roads that he could drive on here on the island, but it was still his, shiny and new and parked over in the parking lot by the Causeway, because where else was a superhero to park a motorbike if they didn't have a freaking garage? Right?

This 'superhero persona' thing was still a work in progress. At least he had a costume, a hero name, and now a bike. He was actually looking forward to hitting the streets of Baltimore tonight.

... Weather pending. Goddamn Maryland winters.

Welcome to the Arms Hotel!
Today's Specials:
Cowboy Steak
Oven Roasted Parmesan Potatoes
Greek Salad

If anybody needed Nikolai today, he'd be at the front desk of the Arms, alternating between checking weather reports and surfing the net for motorcycle accessories.

[Open, OCD-free!]

Groovy Tunes, Saturday

[furnaceface]

It wasn't that Jono was expecting some sort of great influx of business this weekend now that people were slated to be returning back to the island, really. It was more that he'd been going stir-crazy just bumming around the island, not allowed to go back to his own reality by decree of pretty much anyone who cared about him these days and not feeling up to braving the tropical weather of places like Bali or... Balmia.

Look, when you were on fire and the more reliable means of keeping it in was layers of leather, tropical weather was always a bad idea. It wasn't like he could peel off layers until he was down to swim trunks and just lounge on the beach, after all. For what he hoped were obvious reasons.

So. The island. The quiet, quiet island. All week. No employees, no customers, not much of anything at all. Even whatever madness that had been messing with his wardrobe seemed to be behaving itself this week, which meant that he was wearing his leathers and wrappings as he sat at the counter in the music shop, idly fingerpicking one of the acoustic guitars they had in stock. Because Jonothon Starsmore wasn't going to own a music store without selling instruments, too, thank you.

Bloody hell, was he bored.

[Open!]