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

[begmetwice]

"I'm so sorry," Irene replied sincerely. "About your loss, and about your pack."

It looked so heavy. But then, she understood that, given her own rather impressive collection of bags today (and the ones in the bin, included.)

"What was he like?"

[designateddadfriend]

Travis pulled out a chair and sat down, not as heavily as someone who didn't wear a lot of heavy gear for a living might have -- but not lightly, either.

"He was . . . amazing." Another sad little smile. "I mean, obviously I thought that, I married him, but. . . ." He trailed off, picturing Michael in his head. "But he was. He just . . . exuded calm and cheer, you know? I get so caught up in my own head sometimes --" And yes, there was now a "control freak" bag on the table in front of him. "-- And he could always pull me out of it."

[begmetwice]

"There are worse ways to be," Irene commented lightly, eyeing the 'control freak' bag. (Irene had, after all, built something of an empire upon being a control freak, so she hardly saw it as a bad quality.) "But it's important to have someone to ground you like that."

She paused, clearly counting. "Six years for you, then? Or is it not 2022 back home?"

[designateddadfriend]

"Six years," Travis agreed because other than The COVID Season, his canon wasn't entirely connected or disconnected with the timeline of reality. "Which is . . . terrifying and horrible to think about sometimes. I probably should be better at setting it aside than I am, but." He shrugged. "Here I am."

[begmetwice]

"I don't know if we ever really set aside the people we lose," Irene offered, half her mouth darting up in a quick little smile. "Or if we should want to. The trick is not letting ourselves be haunted, I think."

Easier said than done today, really.

[designateddadfriend]

"Or weighed down by the literal backpack that appeared and somehow weighs more than all of my firefighting gear combined?" Travis asked with a wry snort. "Yeah. That's probably about right."

[begmetwice]

"Usually the island isn't quite so literal about things, but yes," Irene noted with a rueful little sigh. "I hate this day. It's like the island's taunting us about everything we thought we'd moved past."

Or at leas that Irene had thought so. She didn't care about losing the game anymore, okay! And her crippling loneliness, as advertised on that fucking violin case she'd kicked (a violin case, for god's sake), was clearly a thing of the past. Obviously!

[designateddadfriend]

Oh yeah. Very clearly tucked neatly away in the past!

If you ignored things, they healed up on their own without scarring, right? Skin and emotional issues definitely worked exactly the same way.

"It's definitely rude," Travis agreed. "If people don't want to talk about something, they shouldn't have to."

He casually reached out and picked the "arguments with Vic" reusable lunch bag off the table and set it out of the way on the floor.

[begmetwice]

"The only thing worse is truth day," Irene said, shaking her head. "Though honestly, after today, I'm fairly sure this has pulled into first place. At least truth day doesn't come with cute puns."

And cue a look of pure disgust as Irene moved to shove a bumbag that read Snob off the table with very little grace.

A bumbag. Of all things.

[designateddadfriend]

"This seems like . . . Truth Day Plus," Travis noted. "I'm going to be sore tomorrow. Which is just rude."