The Magic Box, Tuesday

[always_someone]

Norman made his way into work at the Magic Box today, took a look around the place, groaned a little, and then sank down behind the counter. He'd do actual work in a minute or five. He just needed to take a few minutes now to settle in.

Yes, he was clothed. No, he wasn't in jail anymore. His parents had, quite understandably, done a lot of freaking out about the whole 'arrested for being naked and trying to break into a clothing shop,' thing. His mother had fretted about whether he ought to come home, his father had spent a good twenty minutes accusing him of being on drugs. The manager of the clothing shop in question had apparently just laughed. Laughed and laughed about the entire situation before managing to say somewhere edgewise that he wasn't going to press charges.

So, hey, at least the Demon Marcus guy understood Fandom, Norman supposed. He'd have to stop by there one of these days to apologize and thank him, once he stopped being utterly mortified.

And then there was the tiny ghost tattoo on his inner wrist, which had started to scab over. He'd done some extensive googling about tattoo aftercare because he was suddenly terrified of his wrist turning funny colors and his hand falling off or something, but it had turned out that most instructions seemed to assume that he'd go to a proper tattoo place to get the tattoo in the first place. So he was kind of just washing it and moisturizing it and hoping for the best. All the while feeling a little silly about having a fourteen year-old give him a tattoo with a homemade tattoo gun in a jail cell on a whim like that. He had no clue what had possessed him to do it, probably some leftover panic, but now there wasn't really anything to be done about that, either.

So he was going to just sit here, behind the desk, for a few more minutes. Do some breathing. Just reorient himself for a little while. Get his head on straight. Try not to feel like a complete disaster.

Dammit, Fandom.

[OOC: Open!]

Comments

[nuclear_snide]

"Well, that's quite a face."

Pardon Bob, Norman. He was nosy bored.

[always_someone]

"Hm? Oh, hi, Bob." Norman smiled crookedly his way. "I've, um, I've had a weird week, I guess."

To say the least.

[nuclear_snide]

Bob raised an eyebrow. "As a crab, so I hear."

[always_someone]

Norman groaned and reached up his hands to bury his face in them.

"Yeah. As a ghost crab."

Because the island thought it was funny.

[nuclear_snide]

"Something I wasn't entirely clear on." Bob frowned. "That's a variety of crab, isn't it? You weren't a crab's spirit?"

[always_someone]

"Yeah, I wasn't a ghost crab ghost," Norman clarified, smiling wryly. "It's actually the kind of crab. They're kind of boxy. Have little eye-stalks. They're actually sort of cute, so far as weird little pinchy things with extra legs go, I guess."

He'd never really thought about crabs much, before.

[nuclear_snide]

"So they're not a bad thing to be, if you've got to be something," Bob summed up.

[always_someone]

"I mean, I guess? If you ignore the whole 'your gills might dry out or you could be eaten by a seagull at any moment,' thing. And I was small enough I could be stepped on and I really don't want to spend eternity with my spirit stuck in the shape of a little flat crab."

In his experience back home, most ghosts tended to carry their damage from death with them.

So...

[nuclear_snide]

"Hm. Yes, I can't imagine that would be too fun." Bob shrugged. "Could you still work magic as a crab?"

[always_someone]

"I... never really thought to try," Norman admitted, wincing a bit. "I could still see spirits just fine, so I would assume so? I'll try to remember next time, if there ever is a next time."

[nuclear_snide]

"You should." Bob nodded. "It's always good to know what tools you have at your command. Or not, as the case may be."

[always_someone]

"Honestly, I'm mostly just hoping there's no next time," Norman replied. "Not that I have any say in that one."

[nuclear_snide]

"Welcome to Fandom," Bob said.

[always_someone]

"I talk to spirits and I've been chased by zombies, but of course this place had to find something that could top that," Norman sighed, shaking his head. "Of course."