Fandom Post Office, May 23 (Tuesday)

[filleauloup]

The copy machine in the lobby was broken today. Which was to say that it was spitting out pieces of paper all by itself, without having anything on the glass to copy, and even when Éponine tried to fix it by . . . well, when she couldn't get it to stop, she resorted to unplugging it. And then taking all the paper out of all the drawers when even a lack of power couldn't dissuade it from churning out what looked like a series of photocopies of words, like someone was running a box of those poetry refrigerator magnets through the machine.

By the time it was evident that the machine would not be convinced to stop, she just collected all the sheets of paper and tried to assemble them into some kind of story.

That got . . . interesting by the time she got back from her morning delivery run, when it started making copies of the smutty poetry magnets.

[[OCD-free but open!]]

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[merchant_of_miracles]

When the Merchant of Miracles had expressed, quite loudly and in a great deal of words, his uncertainty of how to get his Very Important* Letters to where they needed to be, the very patient man had suggested the Post Office, and thus, a spry little old man was hobbling into said building with an air of business about him.

"Ohhh, hey, Post Office, right? Couriers? Messengers? Things delivered at a somewhat timely fashion, be it rain or shine, sun or snow, hail of frogs? 'Cause I've got me some letter that need delivering post haste...or post whatever will cost me least, save carrying these little biscuits o' mine o'er land, sea, and mountain, but who's got time for that, amiright?"


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* Not Very Important At All

[filleauloup]

Éponine had been trying to figure out what to do with three adjectives and the word "SHOELACE," which the copier had just given her, so now she was convinced it was toying with her on purpose. Which was to say, she was glad for the interruption.

"There's plenty of different rates that we've got, monsieur," she answered, setting aside the ridiculous, vexing sheets of paper to make her way over to the counter. "Quick or slow, cheap or not. Though, depends on what you're sending, as for example you likely don't want to use the snails when sending plants through the post."

They really did have a literal snail mail rate. It was, for obvious reasons, very slow.

[merchant_of_miracles]

"No, no, snails are no good," the Merchant of Miracles shook his head, waving one of his letters. "Not if you want 'em back, anyway. Chester Hobblepot's got a real appetite for anything with a good amount of slime on it. Might not be bad for Hagatha, though." He waved the other letter in his other hand. "Certainly don't want you delivering that one, or anyone like you. That Hagatha's got a real bad problem with locking up pretty ladies in her tower, not that she'll admit to it, but we all know what she's up to. Can you believe it? She's got herself her own walk-around, mobile tower, and what does she do with it? Locks ladies up in it." He threw up his hands, which still held the envelopes, so they went fluttering down to the ground. "Wasted opportunity, if you ask me. So, yeah, maybe snails for her. She deserves all the snails she can get."

[filleauloup]

"I'm not fond of her already," Éponine decided, wrinkling her nose. It was partly the locking up ladies, and partly (to be honest) that she could think of at least ten better things to do with a walk-around mobile tower. "Snails it is, then. Or maybe a snapping turtle? Though those don't leave slimy stuff all over everything, I suppose, so the snails ought to be better. They're cheap, anyhow. D'you need anything else to arrive sooner?"

[[Argh, sorry. Cannot brain very well today.]]

[merchant_of_miracles]

The Merchant of Miracles nodded and handed over the envelope destined for Hagatha. "So, yes, indeedy, snails for the lady in the tower. Now, for the Hobblepots, I'd say the next step up, maybe by something cute and fuzzy or human or both, Chester's less likely to try to eat something like that."

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "Crispin! How could I forget Crispin? Well, he is pretty forgettable. Good, but he's so boring, not even a slight bit evil, you know, and he's still so young, as far as wizards to. I should get in touch with him, too. You got anything by way of owls? Big fan of owls, that one, I don't get it, but there's no accounting for people's tastes."

[[ack! no worries!]]