The Gig, Wednesday

[justlike_a_girl]

Dani had gone between Fandom and her old home in Fremont so often in recent months that she was having trouble remembering where she was waking up before her first cup of coffee. As she stumbled into The Gig, clutching her to-go cup from The Perk and making a note that she really needed to keep coffee in the kitchen of her Fandom home, she noticed that the barn had an extra stall not currently occupied by a horse. Dani stopped and stared at it for a moment, then went around a did a head count. All of her horses were accounted for, and yet there was space for one more. So Dani drained the last of her coffee and got to work prepping the stall for a new occupant, just in case.

The Gig was open.

The Causeway, Then In Town, Wednesday Afternoon

[luckywithjacks]

One moment, Faraday was on his knees in the middle of a field.

The next...the next he was on his feet, considerably less bullet-riddled, and his horse was lipping at his hat. "Aw, buddy, not you, too," he said. Jack just snorted. Last thing he knew he'd been locked up at the livery stable back in Rose Creek, not that he, being a horse, knew what Rose Creek was. "Although I have to say," Faraday said slowly, looking around, "I expected hell to be a bit warmer than this."

Jack made another attempt at stealing his hat.

"Okay, buddy, okay. Let's figure this place out...see if hell has a livery stable, at least." Faraday took the reins in hand and led Jack onto the island.

((Open to anyone who'd like to encounter a cowboy leading a big bay stallion around the island!))

The Perk, Wednesday afternoon

[vdistinctive]

Eliot had long since given up on having any sort of reasonable control over his own teaching destiny at Fandom, especially in the spring semester. So when the school informed him that he was going to be teaching Home Ec this semester, he was mostly just glad that it was a reasonable class subject, and that he didn't have to co-teach it with a pony.

Then the school sent him the list of class materials. By NPC messenger. While he just happened to be taking a break from his afternoon run at the coffee shop.

"Okay," he said, flipping through the list. "Even I know that's out of date." He sipped his coffee and pulled out a pen, circling the things he'd have to look up how to do. He could handle the cooking stuff fine, of course, and the cleaning and the money stuff, but other than some basic mending, the fiber arts had passed him right by. And there were a lot of them. Lord help him if the Russian mob ever found out he was teaching himself to knit. (Though, a strong enough pair of needles. . . .)

"Wait, what the hell is tatting?"

[Open! Please save me from working-on-break-week hell!]