Covent Garden Flowers; Tuesday [01/26].

[white_oleander]

Everything in the store that day seemed inexplicably in black and white, and, in the rare occasion that someone came in to get something, a particular flower or plant would suddenly brighten up and gain color, like some sort of significant art direction in a movie. It was honestly a little fascinating, along with making Astrid's job of helping pick flowers out for someone a lot easier.

But it was still pretty quiet, the rush before Valentine's Day orders just around the corner, but not quite there yet, like a letter you were expecting to get in the mail, and Astrid spent a lot of time drawing pictures that reflected how she felt over the weekend, the blatant optimism and brash hopefulness that would otherwise had been so foreign to her. She drew dancing barefoot in the woods, and the idea of a mother who was actually loving and caring and encouraging.

And she got distracted occasionally by the realization that the oleanders in the store that day weren't in greyscale, but were actually so white it hurt her eyes to look at them for too long.

Her phone rang at least once during the shift; she ignored it again, letting it drop into her voicemail to join all the others, but she did consider maybe, just maybe, listening to what one of them might have to say.

Covent Garden is open!

Groovy Tunes; Tuesday [01/26].

[lilac_eyed_lieutenant]

Sometimes, you just sort of had to sit back and watch things happen and be grateful that you had good tea to get you through it.

Because it seemed that some of the raccoons were thinking of starting a band.

Either that, or some of the raccoons just wanted to come in and tear through the instruments section and make a ruckus and a mess and general raccoon-related chaos.

Tisarwat wasn't sure which one it was. The only thing she was sure about was that it was probably best to let them get it out of their system and consider the damages later rather than get herself involved and try to stop it.

It was...oddly fascinating to watch, anyway. And it sure beat reorganizing the vinyl section again, anyway.

She would be pleasantly surprised, at the end of it, when one of the raccoons actually did come up and purchase a ukelele, though.

Groovy Tunes is open!

Diaz & ASS. - Tuesday

[superjoanjett]

Jessica had only one case today. And honestly it wasn't much of a case so much as a thorough background check on one Franklin "Foggy" Nelson.

Any thought of him being someone interesting went out the window pretty quickly. Lived in hell's kitchen. Parents owned a hardware store. Made poor life choices.

...?

And he took Punjabi as a language in college.

Jessica rolled her eyes, typed out the report and sent it on to Hogarth.

And then spent the rest of her day trying to find replacement black t-shirts online.

[Open]

Caritas- Tuesday

[throughaphase]

For some reason, no matter what Kitty did today, every drink came out as a strawberry daiquiri. Pour a shot? Strawberry daiquiri. Open a bottle of beer? Strawberry daiquiri.

SPECIALS
STRAWBERRY DAIQUIRIS
Seriously, you can't actually get anything else

If you can't beat 'em, etc.


[Open!]

Wellspring Arms | Tuesday

[flourish_or_perish]

Faye did not want to talk about her weekend. Did she ever think that an off-hand comment about being a fairy, made as a joke, would come back to haunt her? Of course not, but this island apparently thought it was funny, so here was Faye, glad to be back to her normal height and willing and able to drink things that weren't straight grenadine.

She was also grateful that the guns were normal guns again, and she could sit here behind the counter and clean her own Glock. Just for the joy of having normal-sized hands and normal supplies to do it with.

The Devil's Nest, Tuesday Night

[my_own_advocate]

Sometimes you spent a great deal of your time around other people, especially when they had their own troubles you actually wanted to help them with, and it was good, in its own way. And then you woke up the next morning really wanting some time to yourself.

Lucifer didn't particularly like giving his mind space to wander for itself. It rarely ended well. But his mood didn't lend itself to anything loud and ostentatious, either, for once.

The only good answer to this situation was the French.

So he spent most of his shift behind the piano, sometimes dipping deep into the quiet and meandering, sometimes going for something vocal and absurd.

And, well. "Voilà combien de jours, voilà combien de nuits..." Something in-between.