The Perk, Thursday Afternoon

[endsthegame]

They were fast approaching the stage where arrangements had to be made to get a portal back to Hijra and Valentine. Ender couldn't say he wasn't looking forward to it, though he knew Ben probably thought otherwise. He kept a balance between his responsibilities and Fandom life because it made Ben happy - but his own mind was turning ever more frequently to the Hive Queen and the necessity of moving on.

He wasn't wired for staying. Least of all when there were things to be done.

At least he could share his frustrations with Jane, but as per his agreement with her - which functioned both ways, considering her feelings about Ben - he couldn't really discuss them while hanging around the hotel room with Ben. So on Thursday, he made his way down to the Perk, where he ordered a very large coffee and a piece of cake that he picked at but didn't eat.

The small movements of his jaw muscles just under the skin, nearly unnoticable, could easily be ascribed to eating said cake. In reality, he was subvocalizing. Discussing parameters with Jane. Putting out more feelers for research, not just for the Hive Queen's sake, but about the quickly-growing human colonial project itself.

It was a fruitful discussion, but on the outside, he was simply a man brooding over his coffee and cake.

[[ open! ]]

Luke's, Thursday

[vdistinctive]

So the first thing Parker had done when she found out Eliot was now managing his quaint little island diner was have six crates full of Hardison's microbrew from Portland shipped in.

There was no point in trying to point out to her that the diner didn't have a liquor license. Eliot also wasn't 100% sure that things like that even counted for anything on this island. The former manager had apparently constantly had his pet hanging around. Plus, the kitchen crew had said something about the Mayor showing up naked for a towering plate full of bacon, but that had to be an exaggeration, right? (Don't tell him the truth. He really didn't need to start training in preparation for someday fighting a bald eagle who might turn into a naked man.)

Today's special
Try out one of Portland, Oregon's weirdest microbrews:
THIEF JUICE!
Pair with chili for a fine summer meal!

You could practically see the pause to sigh between that colon and the name of the brew.

Luke's was open. And tasted like bad guys.

Around Town, At Dusk, Thursday

[fh_thumbprick]

It began as night began to set in.

The sky was particularly impressive this evening as the sun wound its way down towards the horizon. Streaks of orange and pink chased off the blue, looking almost as if an artist had painted them straight across the sky.

With the color came a strange and wonderful scent: of sugar and cotton candy, drifting idly on the wind. Yet the smell managed to permeate every corner of the island, filling the air itself-- building to a strange pressure.

As darkness began to set, that pressure made itself more noticeable as dark clouds crossed the sky. There was a crackle, then, of thunder, and a flare of light. Then another, and a third, and then the rain set in, hammering down on the rooftops. A simple, none-too-dramatic thunderstorm, yes.

But the smell of cotton candy remained, even after the rain had passed.

[[ open for reactions. ]]

Book Haven, Thursday 8/7

[not-called-icky.livejournal.com]

The shop was quiet when Ichabod opened it, which should be considered normal for a bookshop, but Ichabod knew better. He didn't quite trust the books -- well, perhaps one at a time, while reading them, but definitely not when they had the opportunity to team up -- and cautiously looked around to make sure everything was fine.

As nothing strange seemed to be going on, he began to unpack a newly arrived box, now and then eyeing the shelves at the back of the shop.

"Perhaps I'm suffering from paranoia," he muttered to himself. The next moment, a loud roar was heard and all the books burst from their shelves, flapping wildly, only to quietly return to their places a few seconds later. Ichabod just stared, then shook his head. At least he wasn't going mad.

[open and ocd-free shop]