The Perk | Monday Afternoon

[begmetwice]

Irene shouldn't have even left the flat, honestly.

It had started with the charming little coin purse that had practically fallen at her feet as soon as she'd set out towards the Perk -- blackmailer. Nothing she didn't already know, and she'd been here before, so she even knew what was happening.

On the course of her journey, she'd encountered a suitcase that read thief (of course), a duffel bag -- horrifying -- that proclaimed DEAD, and a neat little rolling pilot's case that bore an outsized LIAR.

None of this was especially groundbreaking. Try harder, Fandom.

It took until she was settling down at a table before the matched set fell around her. I, read a little hatbox, followed by AM on a makeup case, SHER said the handbag --

"Fuck, no." And all of that was getting shoved into a bin before the suitcase that wouldn't fit arrived, and was summarily shoved under her table. LOCKED.

[open, naturally!]

Comments

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

"Fuck, no," Margo agreed, with feeling. She wasn't talking to Irene, though, just at the one-thousand-and-twenty-third iteration of the 'DAD' hatbox that popped up in front of her on her way to some much-needed caffeine.

The 'fuck no' was accompanied by a gesture of her wrist, a snap of her fingers. The hatbox iced over, its inscription hidden, and toppled over onto the floor.

The baristas looked up immediately, alarmed.

"Oh, get over it."

[begmetwice]

"I'll buy your drink if you'll do that for mine," Irene called, neatly dodging another toiletry case that simply read let's have dinner.

Irene had to settle for just deftly knocking it over with a fingertip, in the hopes of hiding that label.

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

"Deal," Margo said, pointing at Irene with one well-manicured finger as her feet carried her to the counter. "Stop fucking around, island."

[hasaknightjob]

Steven came in with a satchel that might at first glance seem like his usual. He gave a nod of greeting to Irene when he saw her.

[begmetwice]

"You're not carrying it with you?" Irene suggested incredulously, quietly kicking a little tote that read The Woman aside as though she'd barely seen it.

She was guessing Steven, based on attire and posture, but as per usual was treating this as a speculative game.

[hasaknightjob]

"What?" Steven asked, and there was the accent to confirm her guess. He looked down at the satchel which read Stress Ball. "Oh. I mean yeah? Way it works, doesn't it? How are you?"

He didn't ask about Irene's bag. Not for him to know if she didn't want to say.

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

She was doing better than Jon, who had already been tripped up a number of times by the matching huge steamer trunks labelled GUILT and SELF-LOATHING, the only slightly smaller ones that said STARTED THE APOCALYPSE and MONSTER, and the double handful of almost-cute-in-comparison ones that started with agoraphobia and arachnophobia and went all the way through claustrophobia and coulrophobia, one for each fear.

He made his way through the door and hastily closed it in front of at least some of them. Even if they came back later, he really just wanted to get his tea now!

[begmetwice]

"They'll follow you in, you know," Irene noted, eyeing that door-closing with sympathy. Don't mind how she wasn't even looking at the little wallet that had appeared, simply reading The Ice-Man and the Virgin in a neat script. Irene certainly was! Look at her just brush it right off the table. "Or new ones, anyway."

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

"Yes, I...I've figured that much out," Jon said, sighing. "But if I can just keep them out long enough to get tea, it would be nice. I...um." He studiously avoided looking at any of Irene's baggage. "I hope you've been doing well, this...thing...notwithstanding."

A backpack labelled socially awkward beaned him in the head before he could catch it.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven spotted Jon and gave a little wave. They were both British. It would be understood that there was no offense taken if Jon would rather be alone right now.

Well, as alone as one could be in a coffee shop.

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

Jon waved back and winced a bit in a "what can you do?" sort of way.

[designateddadfriend]

". . . Um," Travis said.

Staring at that "STARTED THE APOCALYPSE" bag.

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

Jon glanced over at him, winced and shrugged unhappily. "Not, um. Not here. It's not...not something you have to worry about, at least. I don't think."

[pocketpretzels]

Watts was probably going to regret leaving the apartment building. The morning had been- well, at least Steven already knew much of what those irritating bags were referencing.

But he wanted a damned coffee. The kind with chocolate in it. Nearly as soon as he'd picked up his order, of course, a bag on wheels labeled 'CLARISSA' appeared. And... promptly rolled away seemingly of its own volition, through the conveniently-open shop door.

He watched it go, taking a slow, careful sip of his mocha, face carefully blank.

[begmetwice]

"You did that with style," Irene noted, her tone lightly accusatory as she watched ol' Clarissa there roll away.

Pay no mind to the violin case that appeared in the seat across from her, neatly labeled, Crippling loneliness. Hush, you. She'd gotten a dog to make sure that one wouldn't show up, damn it!

It also wasn't fair that it was a violin case. Fucking island.

[pocketpretzels]

"Hm?" Watts said, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, no. It did that all by itself."

Perhaps due to some sort of... sympathetic vibration in the air, or whatever, as soon as Watts did notice that violin case, two more pieces of luggage came crashing down: 'NO HOME' and 'NO FAMILY'. Which he was just going to kind of - kick to the side.

"Is this going to keep up for much longer?" he asked.

[designateddadfriend]

"Watts," Travis greeted with a nod. (He was almost as hunched as Watts typically was, under the weight of his backpack.) "How's it going?"

He was definitely not scanning any of the bags around Watts to see if there were any that referenced shame or homophobia, shut up.

[onlyajones]

Jo glanced over in Watts direction, he was one of the detectives wasn’t he?

She glanced down at her trunks with ‘expelled’ and ‘thief’ on it and tried to discreetly hide them before he noticed it.

Of course that was when the satchel with ‘liar’ appeared and she turned bright red.

[onlyajones]

Jo was really not having a good day, she found herself dragging a trunk simply labelled ‘Malory Towers’ and a suitcase with ‘coward’ on it.

“Hello,” she said softly, wincing as another trunk with ‘thief’ appeared. She really needed a hot chocolate after this.

[begmetwice]

"Girl after my own heart," Irene commented. Was it about the trunk? The need for hot chocolate or other sweets? The wince itself?

(Kind of all of the above, really.)

"Hello, Jo."

[designateddadfriend]

Travis was on his way to the clinic to see Stark and swung through to pick up some pastries on the way. It was his turn to surprise the man with snacks at his workplace, right?

The heavy little "dead husband" backpack and all its various appearing and disappearing dangling pouches had absolutely nothing to do with this decision, shut up.

[begmetwice]

"Watch your step!" Irene called, wincing as one of her own bags -- an elegant, bejeweled little purse that simply read Kate, infuriatingly, dropped right in his path. "Oof, that one's mine, I think."

She had two Kates it might mean, in fact. Though this one clearly was alluding to the Duchess.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven spotted Travis and gave a little wave with the arm not holding up his Stress Ball satchel.

[mother_love]

Coffee. Coffee was good... non judgmental. A rarity today it seemed.

So Billy made his way into the Perk, muttering under his breath something about the stupid duffle bag that was slung over his shoulder, the label declaring "Death Row" in bright red lettering against the camo print.

"Don't care what it is. Just give me something strong," he said to the barista.

[begmetwice]

"You know you can pitch it, right?" Irene called helpfully, gesturing to the bag on his shoulder. Hello, kindred spirit. Please ignore Irene's pretty hatbox that claimed, Wishes she wasn't dead. "I don't think you actually have to carry your baggage with you, darling."

But metaphor, Irene.