Trooper Station; Monday [07/16].

[died8yearsago]

When Rosa walked into the station that morning, clinging to her coffee, it appeared that the troopers had raided the cat section at the shelter and were using all the toys and scratchers and carpet-lined baskets to decorate Kincaid's desk.

She had only one question.

"Do I even want to know?"

And they had only one answer.

"No, probably not."

"Yeah, okay," she said, moving over to her own desk, having a seat and trying to ignore them, but it was a little hard when they kept getting distracted and playing with the little dangly toys amongst themselves.

[[open!]]

Monday after 2pm, wandering through town.

[hernando_fuentes]

[OPEN! super slow today guys. Hernando's just meandering, pounce if you wish.]

After closing the shop, Hernando went for a walk. He was determined to make it all around the small port town. He hadn't counted on the route being as switchback as it was nor the number of stairways. Eventually he was thoroughly lost, but it was an island so he wasn't too worried. He could always point himself toward the ocean and walk that way to the edge. The number of rickshaws around was reassuring, though he was curious how they made it up and down the stairs.

The day was humid, and he was once again completely linen-clad. A light blue button shirt and dark blue shorts, with black sandals. Fingers kept raking his hair back because the curls dampened with sweat and humidity almost immediately.

He walked in quiet enjoyment. The buildings around him looked like they had been built during different periods of time. Some were brick and mortar, others concrete, some of them the whitewalled adobe that just did not belong in a wet, humid climate. Some were stores and looked like they had living quarters above, if the laundry hanging off balconies was anything to go by.