fandomtownies | The streets of Fandom, Saturday night

Entry tags:

The streets of Fandom, Saturday night

. . . So Roland maybe could have thought through the whole "moving out of the ill-kept mad scientist mansion" thing a little more. It wasn't exactly cold out or anything, and it wasn't currently raining, but wandering the streets all day with his duffel and his guitar and the harp strapped on his back was giving him flashbacks to wandering through the Dark Adept's world, and he kept half expecting to turn a corner and be menaced by a cannibalistic giant.

At least that world had had a friendly -- albeit terrifying -- bear family to take him in. And the creepy vampire elves. Who would have ended up killing him.

Right, so Fandom was definitely better than the world of Darkness. That didn't change the fact that he didn't have anywhere to crash, tonight.

The harp let out a soft, mournful, minor key scale, sustaining the last note like a whine.

"Oh, shut up. It's not like you're going to go hungry."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kenzi was coming back from... well, that would be telling. Just assume that no one went to jail, mmkay?

Heading home, though, and a little surprised to see Roland still out.

"Are there night crowds you're playing for?"

"Yes," Roland said, looking around. "The very large night crowds. With my guitar still in her case and my flute in my bag." The harp fussed at him for the sarcasm. "And the passive-aggressive harp on my back."

"Why's she being passive-aggressive? Hi, harp." Kenzi couldn't remember the harp's name, but knew the guitar had one. "So if you're not randomly working for rent money, what's the deal?"

"The house was too big and empty and the water heater broke," Roland admitted. "And then I kind of locked myself out getting away from it."

With all of his worldly possessions with him.

It was REALLY big and empty, okay?

It was impressive how the harp managed to make a middle C sound exasperated.

"Dude, I think she's swearing at you." Kenzi hopped up on a park bench, frowning. "So there's no one in the Doomhaus?"

Muahahah it would be hers! As soon as she got it uncursed!

... and possibly paid for!

The other half of that occurred to her a moment later, and she asked, "So you're heading to the Arms?"

"Ahhhhhh," Roland dithered, rubbing the back of his neck. ". . . Do they have rooms available for six dollars a night?"

"I think if they give you one for that, you have to do Gunther's laundry. And sleep in a supply closet," Kenzi said, wrinkling her nose.

"Bench it is, then. Unless I happen to find a family of friendly bears again." The harp fussed at him. "Don't mind her, she's just used to being pampered."

Or was afraid of ending up living with cannibalistic giants again. One of the two.

"Dude, no. You can't sleep here. The cops will so put you up in the drunk tank if they catch you out here. If something else doesn't eat you first."

Kenzi was thinking more of piranha fish than cannibal giants, but really, wildlife: a reason not to be sleeping outdoors.

"You really don't have another place to crash?"

"It may have escaped your notice," Roland said. "But I'm not actually the most responsible adult in the world."

Heh. That was amusing enough to have Kenzi grinning, and jumping off the park bench. "Then I'm gonna offer you our couch, 'cause I think it's some kinda bad karma to leave a bard out in the rain."

"I think I remember something about that from that week I thought I was going to bring back troubadors," Roland said. "It'd be nice to finally have this bad thing work in my favor." The harp chimed an angry E-flat. Roland rolled his eyes. "Other than having a magic harp, yes. Geez."

"She doesn't do that all the time, does she?" Kenzi asked, starting back toward home again. "Bo might have objections, then. Woman likes her sleep."

Because of course she would have no objections to a random guy on their couch. Duh.

"Only when she's worried," Roland admitted. "She's ended up homeless before. It wasn't pretty. Your roommate won't mind?"

"Naaah." Well. Probably not. Most likely not? "She's got a soft heart. Just don't criticize any of the playmates she brings home, 'kay? It's a thing. That has to happen. And let her have first crack at the showers, she's the one that has to work at the school full-timeish."

"What a woman wants to do in her free time is none of my business," Roland promised. "I promise to keep any judging quiet and to myself."

"Coolio. We'll see how it goes in a little bit, maybe find you somewhere more permanent? But we're good for a while, at least." She grinned. "Zenkie may walk on your face, just warning you. Or lick the harp."

"Er," said Roland. ". . . Who's Zenkie?"

It would be just his luck to end up crashing in another apartment with a cat.

"My cat. Anonymous the Zen Kitty of Gothica." Or so she was going by this week. "Don't worry, she isn't psycho."

She left that to Kenzi, of course. Kenzi turned up Unicorn, towards number 43, and marched up the steps.

Roland reminded himself that a couch was a couch and Tom had ended up being a decent sort of creature, in the end.

"So long as she's not too likely to attack the instruments," he said. "The guitar's safe enough, but I don't have a case for the harp, yet."

Of course, knowing his luck, the guitar and Zenkie would end up friends.

Highly likely, if Zenkie had to hide behind it from excessive cuddling at any point.

"Fair 'nough. We'll find a shelf for her that Zenkie will have a harder time getting to." No guarantees, though. She was a cat.

Opening the door, Kenzi ushered him in, and pointed around. "Upstairs is Bo's room, that's mine over there; kitchen through here..." Welcome to a cute if rather barren kitchen, Roland. Back around the staircase, Kenzi pointed to the living room couch. "It's comfy, the light doesn't hit here in the morning, and the bathroom's right there."

"Very nice," Roland said, a little bit of extra relief in his voice when he finally got to set down the bag. "Thank you. I'll owe you both at least a song or two. And I can be a successful errand boy, when needed."

He was not new to couch surfing. He knew how this economy tended to work.

Kenzi knew allll about that. "Ha. I wanna hear what you'd make up for Bo, as soon as you've written it-- have you met her yet? She works the bar at the Devil's Nest, some weekends."

"Not yet," Roland said. "Not usually much one for bars if I'm not playing a gig." And he really wasn't that much of one for gigs, unless a band he knew needed a sub on guitar.

"Hmm. Okay, well, she'll be the brunette amazon dressed in leather who talks like the girl next door if you wake up to her tomorrow," Kenzi told him. "Anybody else is just an overnight guest. Try not to stare at her cleavage."

Well. He could at least promise to try.

"Roger that," he said. "I will do my best not to be That Guy."

It was pretty spectacular cleavage, so he wouldn't lose too many points if he failed.

Kenzi pulled a pillow off a recliner, and threw an afghan on the couch, and then yawned. "Right, I'm for bed now. I'll see you tomorrow. Afternoon, probably." She grinned and scooped up Zenkie, who had just started exploring and sniffing around Roland's stuff. "Night!"

Roland tried not to be too obvious about his suspicious eyeballing of the cat when he waved. "Good night. Thanks again."

He stretched out and tried not to think too much about the fate of the last person who's couch he crashed on. At least he felt he could be reasonably certain he wouldn't hear tiny elves cleaning up this apartment while he tried to sleep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The streets of Fandom, Saturday night

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject