Luke's, Monday

[vdistinctive]

Eliot was a little bit late opening the diner today, as he spent a good chunk of the morning running up and down stairs all over the island just because he could. No wonder he'd decided that he was going to die young. Getting old -- after all the abuse his body had taken over the years -- sucked ass.

(Admittedly he didn't hate the parts of the weekend that hadn't involved aching joints and a non-functioning leg. But he also wasn't looking too closely at those, because panic was undignified.)

He put up with the kitchen staff trying to hand him anything even remotely long and skinny enough to be a fake cane for just long enough to establish the specials, then went back out into the dining room to make a few phone calls. Sure, it'd all been supposedly twenty years in the future, but it was never a bad idea to make sure the Bratva didn't currently have a contract out on you.

Today's specials
Any of the greasy, salty, fat-laden, or otherwise
crappy food you learned you won't be allowed to eat
in twenty years after your metabolism gives out

Luke's was open.

The Beach; Monday Morning

[ihuntkillers.livejournal.com]

Jasper woke up face down in the sand. It wasn't a very appetizing breakfast. He eventually rolled onto his back and had to hold up a hand to block out the sun. Squinting, Jasper sat up and tried to figure out how he'd gotten there.

He remembered this weekend and that he'd been older and...vague. He remembered the sea of older faces but he couldn't find anything about who he'd been twenty years from now. For him, it was far easier to dismiss some sort of weird time travel than to grapple with not knowing what he'd be in the future. Last night, he'd remembered walking in the shadows, watching...someone? Something? He'd been trailing someone, that was a definite, but he didn't know why. He remembered thoughts of exhilaration and relief but why? Had he -- ?

No. No, he wasn't going there.

Instead, he spit some more sand out and pulled his knees up. Maybe he'd just soak up the scenery and try and forgot that he'd possibly turned himself into Dear Old Dad. Billy would be so proud.

Damn straight.

And what the crap was this Jazz stuff? Ugh.

[Open place and post. Jasper didn't become any sort of killer this weekend but I kept it vague to freak him out and to not know how his canon turns out.]

The Parking Lot | Monday Evening

[thegreywaren.livejournal.com]

Even though Ronan was pretty used to the island being a giant dipshit, it still didn't meant he dealt with it well. After this weekend, he'd prowled around his room for awhile before stomping out, yelling at some random person in town before eventually ending up in the parking lot with his car.

He popped the hood of the BMW and looked around. He knew the basics of mechanics but he was pretty sure his car was in good enough shape that nothing needed to be worked on. This was just where he felt the most comfortable, the most level. This weekend, he'd apparently been decently happy and doing...some kind of relationship thing with Adam.

He didn't even like Adam.

(Did he?)

And he and Blue had seemed pretty chummy and what had happened to him in his old age? Ronan growled again and punched the engine block, making his knuckles sting. He'd preferred to think of himself growing old alone and being surly right up until his untimely death in a fiery accident.

But, apparently he stayed alive. That was...that was good.

Right?

[Open]

Above the Streets of Town, Monday evening

[ultimatehottie.livejournal.com]

So, Johnny didn't appreciate not existing this weekend. There were certain implications there with the fact that he apparently didn't make the twentieth reunion and he didn't want to think about it. And the best way for him not to think about stuff was to fly.

Well, he thought about some stuff. Direction, not burning things down, that kind of stuff, even though it was mostly automatic. But mostly he figured that he could just race around town, darting a story or two above the street, criss crossing every pathway until he was too tired to think deep thoughts. It might take a while, but he was willing to see how long it took.

[OOC: Open to street dwellers and yellers out of windows!]

Groovy Tunes, Monday Evening

[furnaceface]

As one of, what, possibly three people on the island who hadn't been affected by Fandom's whims over the weekend, Jono was actually in a fairly decent mood today. And why shouldn't he be? The last time he'd found himself twenty years older thanks to Fandom's whims, he'd had a pair of boots thrown at his head.

Still and all, he'd been terrible at opening the shop over the weekend anyway, and had decided to make it up tonight by not only opening the Groovy Tunes, but also putting a 'buy one CD, get a second one free' sign up in the window in an attempt to attract customers.

Who knew? Maybe he could introduce the island's population to something they'd never heard before. That was always fun.

[OOC: Open! OCD-free!]