Pick Your Poison, Wednesday

[myownface]

Well, it was back onto the usual Pick Your Poison Wednesday beat for Sparkle today, who had stumbled onto the island actually on time for once, a little more glitter in his hair than usual and a rubber duck shoved into his backpack, but otherwise relatively untraumatized.

Which was good, because he'd need that relative lack of trauma today to deal with all the teens who seemed to be wandering into the shop from town, asking if they sold actual poison.

Where the hell were all the teenagers even coming from? The school didn't have this many students.

He squinted as he stood by the window for a few minutes, and then he sighed.

Right-o. One of those days. He put up a sign announcing that there was a sale on body glitter and deodorant, and then called that a job well done and settled in behind the counter to keep an eye on the shop. Oh, Fandom.

[OOC: Open! Bonus points if someone gets Sparkle with paint to make up for his trauma-free commute today. :D]

Outside MCA, Wednesday Morning

[1000yearstoolate]

Seivarden had a cat. It might be a surprise, since her sister was the one who liked cats, but Issa was obviously the best cat ever, and she wanted to go outside. So here they were, on the steps of the MCA, with Seivarden holding a cup of really horrible tea. Living without servants was occasionally really annoying, and she had never really had much practice in making it herself.

"No, not that way," Seivarden said, catching Issa who was trying to head off with determination. The cat complained with a loud wail and wiggled in Seivarden's arms. "We shouldn't go too far."

Issa tried to catch a strand of Seivarden's long curly hair, and she was soon back on the ground again.

Seivarden took another sip of her tea and made a face. It was really bad. She would have to find someone who could brew it properly. Issa was  cleaning a paw and tried to grab Seivarden's gloved hand when she tried to stroke her.

[Open! Welcome to say hi to the long-haired, glove-wearing androgynous-teenager. Bonus points if you know how to make tea.]

Luke's (after paintball), Wednesday

[vdistinctive]

Eliot had eaten at least three of every fried thing that was available in the park, but being a teenage boy, he was still hungry. So he headed to the diner he'd spotted while running through town.

"Do you guys do, like, quadruple cheeseburgers?" he asked. "And a buttload of curly fries. And a coke. Please." He gave the staff a bright, shiny smile and dug through his pockets.

Where was his wallet?

"Um."

And that was how he ended up slicing onions behind the lunch counter while the kitchen staff cooked him his excessively greasy midday snack.

Thank god for Ashley in Home Ec, last year. . . .

Today's specials
Build your own cheeseburger
Leaning tower of onion rings
Peach cobbler

Luke's was open and OCD free.

Caritas- Wednesday

[solo_sword]

Jaina, at sixteen years old, had been working at the bar on Wednesday nights, because that's a thing that happened a lot more back then.

So tonight she went to work like normal, passing off things like the fact that she was staying in a hotel or all the new faces here as one of those Fandom things that would sort itself out.

And she didn't want to know why Tino kept looking at her weird.


[Hey remember when this was a big teenager thing? Open, no OCD!]

The C.I.C - Wednesday, after paintball until whenever.

[spectre_alenko]

After the splatball match, Kaidan returned to his off-campus housing to shower the paint out of his hair. Once clean, he decided to check out what was through Door #2 of his room.

Apparently he lived above a games cafe, and his key worked in the front door as well! SCORE! When he opened the door, a large black bird flew in, landed on the counter, and quoked at him imperiously. He edged away from it and went to check out the game rooms.

One of them had a couch in it! Flopping down, Kaidan grabbed the controller and fired up the game console. A few minutes of flipping through the selections and he settled on a post-apocalyptic base-building game and began tearing through the Wasteland after supermutants.

Shooting guns in games didn't leave him with paint in his hair. This was a good.


[ooc: CIC is open, no OCD]