Caritas; Wednesday [01/16].

[not_a_bird]

If there was anything strange going on with the taps, or anything breadstick related, or dealing with fried food or pasta or any of that in the bar today, Sweet Dee didn't know about it yet. Since she'd gotten in, she'd been fully engrossed by what was happening on the stage. Emphasis on the grossed. Because the band seemed to be having some trouble today keeping themselves...together.

Limbs, just...falling right off. All over the place. It was absolutely disgusting. And complete, totally enthralling, too. So Sweet Dee and Tino were spending most of their shifts leaning on the bar, watching in fascination, and making bets on what might happen next.

Tino put twenty bucks on the one losing his arms as he went to attach another's arm, but Dee shook her head. "No," she said. "No way. As soon as they get that arm back into place, that guy's other arm's going to pop right off."

Two minutes later, Sweet Dee was cackling in triumph, holding out a hand. "Yeah, that's right, pay up, dickweed."

Should everyone be worried that the two of them were getting along?

...yeah, probably.

[[open!]]