The Beach [Friday afternoon]

[likes-ducklings.livejournal.com]

Rapunzel...okay, so she was a little nervous about this. But Rapunzel really, really, really wanted to go swimming. She'd never had (naturally), and today she'd finally found the courage to pad down to the beach, barefoot as usual, and curiously watch the ocean for awhile.

"There probably aren't sharks or anything," she told Pascal, who buzzed dubiously. "What could it hurt?"

There was the fact that she didn't know how to swim, at all. And that she had seventy feet of hair that could act as an anchor, or get tangled on something and drag her to the bottom of the ocean, or -- the very worst -- take all afternoon to dry.

Though it didn't, usually. One of the many magic things about her hair, she supposed.

Rapunzel tentatively tiptoed towards the water's edge, dipped a toe in, promptly squealed and scurried back away from the tide. She gradually got a little more brave, and within the hour, she was walking ankle deep in the water, her hair mostly piled further up the beach, safe and dry.

She'd work her way up to swimming. For now, she was busy collecting seashells, which she'd also only ever seen in books. "Pascal, look! This one looks like a lightning bolt, kind of!"

Pascal chirped in agreement. It kind of did. Kind of.

[open post is open!]

Luke's, Friday

[vdistinctive]

Eliot spent the first half of his shift at the diner today occasionally throwing things at the section of wall that Kitty had escaped through last week (there was a possibility he thought he could catch it off guard if he did it fast enough) before finally concluding that it wasn't anything in particular about the wall that made it possible. Which meant now he had to figure out how to fight off whatever the heck Kitty was (his current theory: ghost) if he ever had to.

Which, after skimming a few of his inexpertly googled websites about quantum entanglement, he decided was more of a thought-experiment question for Hardison than something he was going to work out on his own, so he turned his attentions instead to setting non-lethal traps for the kitchen staff.

It was important to keep them on their toes.

Today's specials
Sega wat
Vegetable alecha
Dabo kolo

Luke's was open.

Groovy Tunes, Friday

[didntchewgrass.livejournal.com]

Elphaba was busying herself this week with going through all the vinyl albums just to see which had the most interesting covers. This mainly was how she was deciding what to play while she 'worked', and so far it had led to some very odd choices. When she hit a section of albums by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, she was practically scandalized. Out of morbid curiosity, she decided to play one of the albums and was pleasantly surprised that the music was quite nice. A little peppy for her tastes, but it wasn't mindlessly peppy.

Working at Groovy Tunes certainly had its perks.

[ooc: Oh golly, sorry for it being up so late. I have spent half the day in great pain, and the other half drugged and at the doctor's. Strep bacteria seriously love my insides.]

Caritas, Friday Evening

[newroutines]

Yeah, some shit had been going down in Beacon Hills again and while Mike had exactly no details, he didn't really feel comfortable. He was pushing his worry down but that just made it feel like an itch in the back of mind. Sometimes repression wasn't his best game.

So he was quizzing Tino about whether the island had ever had a strip club. That was his way of making himself feel better. Tormenting Tino was a widely accepted pastime, right?