The Perk, Thursday Afternoon

[firstofitskind]

Yesterday had been pretty good at scratching that handwavy itch to get out and fight something, Liam had to admit. Enough so that he felt justified in changing up his routine a bit. He'd still gone for the usual early-morning run, but instead of gym after class he headed to the Perk.

No eggnog chai yet, sadly, so he had to settle for regular chai and a danish as he got himself a spot by the window. He contemplated opening up the journal he'd been given as 'homework' as a sorts by the therapist he'd been seeing on the mainland, but ultimately decided that that was the sort of thing that could wait until he was at home. For now, he'd just be catching up on news via his Global, occasionally pausing to watch in amusement as rubber bats flitted around the shop.

[ooc: Any more open and this would be an outdoor cafe.]

Furnado Animal Shelter; Thursday [10/31].

[hashtag_chocobro]

You know what? Prompto was absolutely, one-hundred percent cool with skipping out on all those clowns yesterday. Well, maybe ninety-five percent, because there was always going to be a little nagging part of him that was pointing out that it would have been great target practice, but, hey. You know what else made good target practice? Actual targets, which didn't require killing things, no matter how creepy and weird.

He was just super glad that it didn't turn out to be a weekend thing, that they were already gone, and that meant he could just go in to work today and spend the whole time dressing up the animals in adorable costumes and having pet costume parades and taking a million pictures, because he did not understand Halloween, like, at all, but he did understanding that an excuse for cute animals in costumes was always the thing he was going to focus on if it was an option.

Furnado is open!

Covent Garden Flowers, Thursday

[okteiviakom]

Today was absurd.

Yesterday, Octavia had been out on the streets, feeling like she belonged in her surroundings because her surroundings needed something from her. And today, she was right back here again, behind the counter at Covent Garden, surrounded by flowers and orders written on slips of paper. Because yesterday wasn't her life: this was her life. No armor, clean face, no warpaint or blood to be found. Her hair wasn't even in its usual braids, but instead hung open. She'd undone the braids last night in the shower to get all of the clown blood out, and had been far too exhausted to re-braid anything afterwards.

Or even this morning. She'd made it to work in a daze of sorts, struggling not to feel a little like everything was surreal. But on the very faint plus side, at least everything else kept her distracted from how bruised and achy she was all over?

Over by the window, several plastic skeletons occasionally rattled their bones, hoping to help her into the spirit of things. But all it actually did was make her wonder whether Mike's party was going to have jello shots this year, too.

[ooc: Open shop!]