Atlas Gym, Monday (2/18)

[notallbluemonks]

It was quiet today -- quieter than usual in her building when she got up this morning, quieter than usual when she passed by the school on a quick jog before work, quieter than usual when she stopped in at the Perk for breakfast on her way to the gym. And after more or less threatening the poor barista at the Perk into explaining to her that it typically got like this every time it was a school break week, which she hadn't realized was a thing, Beau was . . . not in a great mood by the time she actually arrived at work.

Because of course everyone would take off without her, wouldn't they? That was always what happened, and so soon on the heels of starting to feel as if people might actually like her a little bit it particularly stung. Knowing some people could tag along as guests was a nice little extra sprinkle of salt in the wound, too, even if it wasn't even a little bit surprising that she was nobody's first choice for that sort of thing. That was always what happened too.

So if anybody was around and might actually need Beau for anything, she'd just be . . . over there by the heavy bag, throwing punches until well after her knuckles bled even through the hand wraps and not saying a goddamn word about any of this to anyone.

[OOC: As a disclaimer, this was the outcome I wanted, because I'm the worst and I've been wanting to do this to her. Gym is open, and Beau will be keeping all of that to herself, not taking it out on anyone.]

Community Center Class: Modern Earth Entertainment, Monday

[2_old_for_this]

Peter waited to see if anybody would show up, and then whether they did or not, he'd be watching documentaries about the cold, including Iceland, partly in wistfulness for other people going on a trip, and partly to remind himself why he really didn't want to.

It was a thing.

But there were snacks and drinks if anybody else showed up and wanted them, too.

Fandom Post Office, February 19 (Tuesday)

[filleauloup]

Now that there was a lull between themed holidays, the mailboxes had reverted to just letting out the occasional stream of soap bubbles.

And soap bars, too; every now and then a mailbox might pop open and a brand new, individually wrapped bar of soap would drop out. By mid-morning there was a neat stack of them on the front counter, free for the taking. (Éponine had considered charging a nominal fee for them, just because she could, but decided it was best to just let people take them before they piled up and took over the entire lobby.)

"If you're trying to tell me something, you know, it's uncalled for," she told the latest stream of bubbles. "Honestly now."

[OOC: Post/post office open! Brought to you by how I'm totally out of bar soap and guess what one item I forgot to pick up at the store?]