Demon Marcus, Sunday

[myownface]

So... Sparkle had been informed via text that he'd inherited management of Fandom's annual (third) Pride event.

... Which had made him make a sound somewhat akin to dolphin sounds. If the dolphin was panicking because it had been put through a blender, because wait, Pride month was almost over. So he'd actually gone outside, wearing every damn knife he could fit on his person and his blaster besides, to make his way to his shop, low-key terrified that he'd get there and it'd be infested with, like, flesh-eating mutant rabbits and all the clothes would be weird grey nightmare cloaks or... something?

They were not! The shop, when he stepped inside, was normal. More normal than he'd seen it since summer had begun, and he even had a shipment in, just waiting to be unboxed. An order, in fact, for Pride garb.

"Oh thank god."

Blaster on his hip and knives close to hand, Sparkle settled in for a shift in his shop, alternating between restocking the racks, setting up a Pride display of rainbow clothes, flags, and t-shirts with cute (or catty) slogans on them, and screaming incoherently while he tried to throw together a flyer to advertise with.

Happy Sunday!

[OOC: Open!]

Comments

[sharp_man]

Hannibal was not going to show up at the shop, no. Hannibal was perfectly happy in New York searching real estate listings.

He was, however, going to call to make sure Sparkle had gotten the (short) notice about Pride and see if he could do anything to help.

Ring ring!

[myownface]

... God save Sparkle if Hannibal ever happened to phone him while within earshot of his ringtone, because "Maneater" was now playing, letting him know he was getting a call.

Okay, deep breath, composure, he was fine, this was fine, everything was fine.

"Please kick your husband in the shin for me."

Also, hello.

[sharp_man]

"That answers the question of whether you were informed, I suppose," Hannibal said. "I will."

[myownface]

"It's almost July," Sparkle complained. "He tells me this while the island is going nuts and it's almost July!"

Dammit, Starsmore.

[sharp_man]

"I'm surprised you're even there," Hannibal said. "You are safe, I trust?"

[myownface]

"Yeah," Sparkle sighed. "Got back mid-week, before the crazy got too crazy, and most of the ugly shit is sticking to the beaches and the preserve. It's a step up from the wasteland."

A beat.

"Creepier, though. The trees are fucking spooky."

[sharp_man]

"You should see the flamingos," Hannibal answered. They were still glittery; it was surreal.

"Is there anything I can do to help, apart from kicking my husband's shins?"

[myownface]

".... I really don't wanna see the flamingos," Sparkle decided. "The last thing I want this week is to have to kill your lawn ornaments."

Seriously.

"Food," he added. "Picnic food?" A beat. "Picnic food."

If he said it twice, maybe it'd get the picnic food and not people across?

[sharp_man]

Honestly, Sparkle. They were not his lawn ornaments.

"Picnic food." Hannibal didn't sigh, but somehow managed to sound put-out anyway. "Hamburgers and hot dogs, I presume? A few salads?"

He'd make them gourmet anyway.

[myownface]

"Ooh, great idea," Sparkle replied easily, "thanks for volunteering hot dogs!"

Manipulative little shit learned from the best of them.

[sharp_man]

Hannibal was so proud, Sparkle.

"I'll make them myself," he promised.

He probably wouldn't even use human.

[myownface]

"... Vegan options, too?"

Because around you, Hannibal, Sparkle was really starting to lean vegan, dammit.

But also there were legit vegans on the island.

[sharp_man]

"Vegan, too," Hannibal promised. "Somehow."

[myownface]

"... I mean, vegetables aren't hard," Sparkle pointed out. "I have faith you'll figure something out."

[sharp_man]

"Vegetables on their own aren't much of a meal," Hannibal said. "But yes, I will figure something out."

[myownface]

"There's tofu," Sparkle pointed out. "Tofu can be filling. I promise, you've got options."

He strongly suspected Hannibal would just throw in the towel on the vegan goods and make skewers or something.

He'd eat those.

[sharp_man]

Skewers were a picnic tradition! And colorful!

"I will find options," he agreed.