Pick Your Poison, Sunday

[joan_of_bark]

( In which Ivy yells and poor Janet-from-HR once again can't get a word in. )

"Thanks." She ended the call. Observed the newly-restored order in front of her, and felt a brief wave of faintness come over her. She should probably hydrate...

With a sigh, she took the stairs back down, poured herself a cup of water, and then opened the door to the store to let some fresh air in.

Ugh.

[[ details of phone call NFB. post is open! ]]

The Perk, Sunday Afternoon

[pocketpretzels]

With Marc off taking care of business in London (exactly what business, Watts didn't ask and Marc didn't offer, beyond letting him know he'd text Watts if it took longer than originally anticipated), the house was quieter than usual. Which perhaps explained why Watts was currently at the Perk, notebook open and Polish dictionary in hand as he worked through some language lessons on his mobile telephone, pausing occasionally to take a sip of his mocha or to put on headphones and listen to an audio clip.

Ooh, was that a half-eaten danish the patrons at the next table over had left behind? Watts leaned over to snag it before the staff could come by to tidy the table and toss out a perfectly good snack.

[ooc: open, of course.]