The Arms Hotel, Friday

[redhairgoldheart]

Sure, Mary had made an extra towel animal here and there to add to the small menagerie that she kept in the lobby. This morning, as she sipped the hot chocolate that Gunther had made for her, she surveyed the number of towel animals that had appeared overnight. There were towel animals on every single surface in the lobby, and they were all things that she hadn't learned to make in that workshop she had taken at UNLV. As Mary paused to examine a towel pygmy hippo, Gunther congratulated her handiwork. "Oh, none of this was me," she quickly corrected him.

The Arms Hotel was open!

[Room Assignments | Request a room]

The Park, Friday Morning

[suitably_heroic]

Space, but Jack was so ready to be home again. (Though yes, it was still humiliating that he'd finally broken about it in front of Summer of all people.) Ready enough that he'd - grumpily, mind you, but still - given up his spot behind the wheel of the van to Trent a few hours ago, and curled up in the back for some sleep. Maybe by the time he woke up, he'd be in a sane state again.

Alas, it was not to be.

When he woke up, it was on a bench in the park, curled up on his side, with a flamingo loudly screaming in his face.

"What the--"

That sure was a flurry of Earth expletives, right there.

Oh no.

[[ open ]]

The Ink Spot, Friday, November 1

[fears_no_one]

Flint had found a very warm, woolly top in his closet today and never one to not use dubiously acquired clothing, he was wearing it downstairs as he opened the bookshop up.

The flag of Antigua was on the counter and Flint was back in his chair. Fordyce's Sermons was in the garbage by the door.

Come interrupt the pirate!