{ open + closed } ↠ more today than yesterday.

[fixateur]

Who: Mr. Wilson and all of you!
Where: Various locations.
When: All throughout October.
What: A buncha shit.

Warnings: None yet. Will update as necessary!


Open Starter Index
Auto-Garage | Laundromat | Cider Fest | Wildcard

Comments

{ open } ↠ auto-garage

[fixateur]

[ It’s supposed to be a routine oil change and tire rotation. ]

Am I seeing this right?

[ That is, until the mechanic wants to upcharge him for a special “tire wax package” to give them extra traction. Which is… nonsense in its own right. So here he is at the front desk of the garage, wearing a pair of tortoise-colored reading glasses while holding a handwritten invoice. ]

We agreed on the two items this morning. And now you’re charging me the extra seventy for a package I didn’t sign off on?

[ The mechanic murmurs something profane. ]

I know, I get what you’re saying — but I checked with Lauralei, and we agreed to do the oil change without the wax.

[ They murmur one more thing before shuffling back into the garage. All he can do is sigh and lightly pound against the desk with his fist. ]

[ordimame]

[it's the light thud of that fist against the desk that draws Edamura's attention, and he glances up from the grimy magazine (a very outdated issue of Better Homes and Gardens from the 1980's) he has propped open in his hands, casually yoinked from the garage's waiting area. truthfully, he isn't here to have his own vehicle serviced-- he is perfectly capable of keeping up with its maintenance on his own-- but rather. . . well]

[a guy still needs to eat, right? and while he would much rather wiggle his way into employment at the Scrapyard (to try and keep an eye on that weird Yom Crook character), he is pretty sure a well-respected establishment like that isn't going to hire a fresh-faced new arrival with no reputation. so he might as well scope out the other garages in the city first, right? and see if he one of them would be willing to take a chance on a newbie]

[though. . . based on Harry's frustrated sigh, he may be crossing this one off his list]

[usually, matters like this are none of his business. but this time? he can't help but ask, words a bit dry]

. . . doesn't sound like you're about to give this place a glowing review. Are they trying to upsell you?

[fixateur]

[ If Harry had to guess, chances are they’re probably talking a way for him to pay a “discounted” price for the tire job. This is the price you pay (metaphorically) for doing business in a lawless city. There’s no Better Business Bureau to phone or proper legal channels to toss his grievances.

They probably saw his clean-cut appearance and thought they could squeeze a couple of bucks out of him. A common mistake for rookie con artists and grifters. Sophie was always mindful of emphasizing to Breanna and him to be aware of the little details. You never want to judge a book solely by its cover.

Harry is confident he can win this little mechanical spat. Nothing a paper trail and a few legalese can fix. But it’s still annoying.

As he massages the arch of his brow, he hears someone comment from the side. He smirks at the mention of the upsell. ]

That about covers it.

[ He turns to face the other man, keeping his eyes on the window dividing the front lobby and garage. ]

Just your usual cosmetic upsell, all for the low, low price of seventy joolies.

[ordimame]

[it's definitely annoying!! Edamura knows the citizens of Panorama are a bit rougher around the edges, but rough doesn't have to equate to dishonest. a garage like this one probably makes plenty of money through its legitimate business. there's no need to try and skim an extra seventy joolies off of an already paying customer]

Only seventy? They sure are letting you off easy.

[there's a wry note to his voice as he flips the magazine shut and tosses it back onto the coffee table. seventy joolies is actually quite a bit of cash for someone as flat-ass broke as him!]

I happen to know for a fact that the garage down the street only charges thirty.

[he's just being cheeky]

[fixateur]

[ That gets a good chuckle out of him. His brows raise in fake excitement. Thirty whole joolies?! Pinch him, he’s dreaming! ]

Well, I do like getting nickled and dimed on the cheap. I’ll keep that in mind next time I need to replace my suspension.

[ One glance at the window and the mechanics are still talking. Maybe he ought to think of a Plan B if they’re going to give Harry the roundabout. ]

I don’t suppose you’ve got yours back there?

[ Hopefully not. ]

{ open } ↠ laundromat

[fixateur]

[ One more bill, and that should do it for this load. Harry presses the ‘Delicates’ option on the front-load washing machine and watches as his more fragile clothing tumbles softly around. All that’s left is to wait for the rest of his laundry to finish in the wash.

He finds an open spot in the seating bench area. There are a couple of people already occupying some seats, so this will have to be a cozy affair. The constant looping ‘Monster Mash’ is going to drive him nuts, but there’s not another laundromat that’s less than a twenty-mile drive from his motel.

Good thing Harry had the wherewithal to bring his crossword puzzle from this morning. Some of these clues are… a little too obscure. But they make a healthy challenge to pass the time. ]

hope this is ok!

[windriding]

[ Storm tends to do a lot of laundry these days. Not just hers - she sneaks into Scott's unit to make sure he's got some clean things - so actually finishing the laundry tends to take a while.

It's fine, though. The double load isn't too bad, and it gives her a lot of quiet thinking time. She'd just loaded the last of the delicates into the machine next to Harry's. The rest of her laundry is dry, but it's a lot, and she has to separate her things from Scott's so she can sneak them back into his place nice and folded and it's easier to do here. She's about to start when the Monster Mash starts all over again, making her scowl up at the speaker.

She looks both ways and all around the laundromat, before her eyes take a gleaming, electric glow. Something snaps, the speaker shorts out with a crackle, and the staff up front yelps with a What the fuck! when the radio starts to smoke. And Ororo goes right back to folding her things. ]

[fixateur]

[ (9) Across - Atomic Number 86.

Five letters. This shouldn’t be too hard if Harry can remember the periodic table of elements. He pressed the thin rubber eraser against the tip of his nose, scribbling an ‘X’ as the first letter before quickly erasing it. Maybe he should skip to the next clue. His eyes wander as the song winds down with the inevitable incoming loop to follow. Everyone else is in their own world, either sipping stale black coffee, tossing another load into the wash, or folding a heap of laundry.

Storm was one of the few people to do the latter as she kept up with her pile. What he doesn’t expect, however, is for eyes to glow and the radio to suddenly blow out. You would think Harry would be used to it, seeing others use their special abilities. But it still throws him off.

His head turns to find the staff looking pretty pissed off about it, and then right back at her. He catches himself gawking before steeling his attention back to the puzzle in front of him and clearing his throat.

One of these days, this is going to feel normal to him. ]

Do you hear that? [ He says to ‘no one’, eyes still focused on the page. ] Sounds like someone’s gone ahead and lifted a curse in here.

[ Consider this his discreet way of saying “Thank you”. ]

[windriding]

[ Ororo doesn't miss it, and just barely manages to catch herself before she chuckles in response. The smile that manages to escape her is tiny and wry, a press of her lips keeping it from becoming an out and out grin as she continues folding some clean white shirts. ]

Silence can be a blessing.

[ — is all she says for a moment as the staff fiddles and fusses with the broken electronics. There's a mutter of getting a fan to clear out the smoke, minimal as it was, and Ororo waits until they step out before she glances over at the man busily doing his crossword. ]

My apologies. I hope the smoke isn't bothersome. [ If it reaches him at all. She'd send it out with a breeze of her own, but she's wondering if it would be wise to call even more attention to herself that way. There was merit to keeping a low profile, but she can't help but feel a little sorry if the residual smell ended up bothering anyone. ]

[fixateur]

Hardly noticed — [ Cue him breaking into a short fit of coughs. He covers the fallout with his elbow. ] Hardly noticed a thing.

[ The smoke billowing out of the radio is small, temporary. It’s not like she ruined a state-of-the-art stereo system. It was probably some podunk radio the owner snagged from the junk shop.

All the rest of the customers either minded their own business or muttered something profane under their breath. Harry sensed that the other woman didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself. The least he can do is assure her that the others can live with a little smoke. ]

How about we call this a fortunate happenstance? [ His head cranes backward to see how the employees are holding up. ] Looks like those guys have a handle on it.

{ open } ↠ cider fest

[fixateur]

[ Another busy one tonight. All the foot (and car) traffic hasn’t stopped in the Pavilion since the festival kicked off, and Harry hasn’t been able to take a breather since the start of his shift. Not until the bar owner pulled the bar rag off Harry’s shoulder and forced him to take his break.

The doorway sign leading up to the roof says in bold lettering “STAFF ONLY”, but that quickly became a suggestion rather than store policy. He practically has to shoulder his way up the tight stairway from people either nursing their beverages or couples sneaking in a make-out session.

All to get up to here.

He looked down at his person and realized he had forgotten to take off his apron. All he could do was roll his eyes at himself and carry on. He’s only got thirty minutes before he is back hustling more Apple Whiskey Sours. ]

a.) [ There’s hardly any place to rest. Everyone else is enjoying the view from above as Harry shuffles his way towards the railing. He’s probably said “Excuse me” more times than he did “Would you like me to stamp your card?”

Eventually, he leans against the metal railing. Sticking his head further out to see fluxdrifts coming in and out of the bar. ]

Not bad for a weeknight.

[ Maybe the person next to him is with a group, that doesn’t stop him from switching off for the night. ]

Finding everything all right?

b.) [ Alternatively, maybe someone is up to some “whimsical” mischief on the roof. Maybe they decide to light a small firecracker, pick-pocket a patron, or start a fight on the roof. Either way, something is brewing on this crisp fall night, and someone will have to deal with the fallout after the fact. ]

a

[nadine_he_loves]

[There are way too many people here.

Nadine is trying. She's making an effort to get out there, to do things, to have some sort of a life outside of work and working on the school. To meet people and make friends and keep up with them. The cider festival had seemed like a perfect opportunity - what New Englander doesn't love apple cider?

But everyone and their cousin was out for the festival. The venues were packed. Even up here, on the roof, it's standing room only. She's managed to make it to the railing, and leaning over it resting her elbows on it at least feels less claustrophobic. She's not being crushed on either side by strangers. It's the best place she's found to nurse her mild cider and at least tell herself she made an effort.

And then someone talks to her.]

'Not bad' is one way to say it. If there was a fire marshal in this world, they would be fuming over this.

[She nods down to the stream of people he's been watching.]

But the cider is pretty good.

[fixateur]

[ As exhausted as Harry is from running around the bar for hours, he happily drinks in the compliment about their house cider. It’s their most popular drink, which took a bit of prep work to get ready for the evening rush. He gestures with a small, celebratory fist pump. ]

I’ll take that as a win.

[ To clarify: ]

The cider. Not the — [ He points over his shoulder with his thumb. ] …crowds. I told the owner here to get a padlock, but he wouldn’t budge on it. Said he’s been doing these festivals longer than most people around here.

[nadine_he_loves]

[That is certainly not the response Nadine was expecting. It surprises a little huff of a laugh out of her.]

Well, compliments to the...brewer? I have no idea what you call someone who makes cider.

[She probably ought to, coming from apple country.]

I have to confess, this is my first cider festival. I've only been here about six months. I didn't expect it to be so popular. It looks like everybody's turned out for it. You'd think it was Saint Paddy's Day in Boston.

[Hopefully he gets that reference. He sounds like he probably would, but Nadine has been fooled before.]

not me forgetting how cider is made lmaoo 💀

[fixateur]

Compared to Boston? I’d say this place still has a lot of catching up to do.

[ He says with a touch of affection in his tone. Panorama has a… peculiar charm, sure. But the nostalgic part of his mind can’t help but look back at those days of guzzling rich, dark Irish beers and navigating through crowds of people decked in green.

Maybe if Harry squints his eyes, he can delude himself into believing he’s back in Boston. Down below, there’s a friend group - completely shirtless - scaling up a minivan. They’re hooting and hollering on the roof, using their shirts to twirl around. Similar vibe, different universe. ]

Then again, I’ve yet to see an elderly woman beat an Enforcer with their bag while singing Danny Boy.

a secret third option

[viceps]

[ When Vi slides onto the bar stool, looking around for the sign that says what this place's 'Cider Fest Special' will be, she does not expect to lock eyes with Mr. Harry Wilson of Down the Hall fame.

Did he tell her he worked as a bartender? Possibly, at some point. Did she hear him and/or pay attention and/or remember? No, clearly not.

Vi blinks. ]

...huh.

[ She looks around, as if expecting someone to come by and reveal themselves as the real bartender. ]

Didn't peg you for slinging shots.

[fixateur]

[ Well, it was only a matter of time. Job talk wasn’t exactly at the core of their conversations, besides the occasional budget check-in. Even Harry couldn’t say exactly what Vi does for work. If it were tax season, on paper, he’d put her down as a freelancer and have “some concerns” over where her streams of income were coming from.

So, it isn’t a surprise when he sees her take a seat across from him. His “work attire” isn’t any different from what he wears for his day-to-day errands, other than the waxed canvas apron covering his frame.

Harry hunches over the ice well when she comments, preparing to serve another round of the House Cider Special. ]

Neither did I.

[ He sets two iced glasses on top of white square napkins. ]

It turns out that in a town with no governing body, there’s not a lot of demand for legal counsel. No choice but to make do here.

[viceps]

[ Vi also couldn't tell anyone exactly what she does for work. This and that. Punch people. Some light larceny. Don't worry about it.

She blinks at him, taking a beat to decide whether he's making a joke. Maybe she decides he is, because she barks a genuine laugh.

There are ways Panorama reminds her of home. Not many lawyers in Zaun either. ]

True. Folks'll always need a drink. Much better bet, as professions go.

[ She eyes the glasses, not sure if he's preparing something for someone else, though no one is sitting near her at the moment. But she hasn't ordered yet.

Vi leans her elbows on the bar, peering up at him with a lopsided smile. ]

Aw, you making me something special, Harry?

[fixateur]

[ Bold of Vi to assume that Harry magically has a fresh cocktail mix at the ready for her. ]

That depends.

[ He pours from the shaker as he signals to the customer coming back from the restroom. ]

You could start with our seasonal special, or we’ve got an entire menu’s worth of cocktails at your disposal.

{ open } ↠ wildcard

[fixateur]

[ Drop in with your own starter! I’m game for anything you want to toss at me, whether it be petting zoo shenanigans, neighborly motel things, or whatever you want to do! Don't hesitate to hmu via PM or on my plurk robutting. ]

{ closed } ↠ adrian.

[fixateur]

[ ‘Hey pal, our guy can’t pick up our donations. He just phoned in saying he’s got a flat tire — think you can stop by the clinic and drop these off?’

Between the restaurant down the street and the bar Harry works at, the two were practically a joint business. You’d grab a meal, then hit the bar afterward. In the later hours, you’d stumble out of the bar and pick up something quick and greasy before they closed the kitchen. Towards the end of the kitchen staff’s shift, there would be enough leftovers that it would be “a damn tragedy” not to donate.

That’s how Harry ends up carrying two insulated bags’ worth of sandwiches, fried rice, and vegetable stir-fry around the corner path to the clinic staff entrance. The same path where the orphans like to run and kick the ball around. He’s met with kids laughing and screaming, trying to catch a yellow rubber ball. One kid kicks it hard enough that it skids past the group of chasers and meets the front of Harry’s boat shoe.

’Is that our food?’ ’Kick it over here!’ ’No, over here!’ ]

Whoa there! One at a time, there. [ He presses the ball gently with his foot to stop it from rolling further. ] Who am I giving this to?

[ They absolutely lose it. A chorus of kids yelling, “Me! Me!” “Over here!” “Your nose looks dumb!” ]

[faithfall]

[ When he'd first started working at the clinic, Adrian had been especially concerned for the children who seemed to enjoy playing so nearby. It wasn't just that they were left mostly unattended, although that was hardly ideal; the clinic itself catered to both mundane ailments and vampiric hungers, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to assume that none of them would be missed.

It had turned out that his worries were mostly misplaced. Many of the staff kept a watchful eye on them during their breaks, and made it clear to their clients that it would be very unfortunate if any of the little ones went missing. Adrian himself had fallen into the rotation, saving a little of his magic to mend particularly nasty injuries, or passing along treats from Sunday's bakery.

Despite his best efforts, he certainly can't afford to properly feed them all on a regular basis, so he's especially grateful when the nearby restaurant drops off donations.

He's running a bit late to meet the delivery driver, but there's no question that they've already arrived, from the sounds of things. Adrian walks around to the side street, still in his Solar Clinic branded scrubs. ]

What in the world is going on out here? Jessica, didn't I ask you to stay off that ankle for a couple of days?

[ "That's why he should kick the ball to me! I'm hurt. Oh, ow, the pain. If only I had the ball." Jessica collapses dramatically in the fake grass, and Adrian sighs.

He lifts his gaze to the man with all of the bags, bemused. He's not the usual driver, but he is vaguely familiar. ] I take it you're the one who's worked them into such a frenzy. Do you want a hand with all of that? Or shall I leave you to fend for yourself against this pack of ravenous wolves?

[ The children think this is a delightful description, and begin howling. Now they're both at fault.

Adrian is already coming over to help, regardless of the answer. ] If you don't mind helping me get everything inside..? I'm Adrian. I've seen you around before, haven't I?

[ Perhaps at the bar or the restaurant? While he doesn't drink, he's certainly stopped in late a few times to get something to eat on the way home after a shift. ]

[fixateur]

[ The sight can be overwhelming for more jaded eyes trying to get on with their day. An entire pack of kids who’re chomping at the bit to get back to their game and have a meal all at once. One of them looked about ready to kick him in the shins to get the ball on their side. If these bags weren’t so hefty, he would easily trip over himself.

Truly, Harry has landed himself in a dilemma.

Yet his face brightens, teasing that “this” team really wants this ball. You hardly ever see people (let alone kids) having fun in this city. Most of the time, residents here find themselves on high alert, keeping their wits about them as they go from place to place. It’s a nice change of pace, all things considered.

They are all about ready to pounce on Harry until a more commanding voice booms over. He looks over to find the source wearing scrubs of the clinic’s namesake. The younger man doesn’t have any problem getting them under control (besides, well, the howling…) as he steps closer to grab the other half of the delivery.

Even though he can’t put face-to-name, he grins and bobs his head on the off-chance they have crossed paths. ]

Harry. [ He responds while handing one bag over. ] You know, I thought you’d look familiar. I work over at the bar next door. The delivery guy had a last-minute emergency, so I’m filling in for today.

[ Right on cue, Harry kicks the ball off to the other side of the grass and has the kids duke it out for themselves. They all go bananas. Screeching and laughing all at once as the kids continue their game, the adults become an immediate afterthought as the two enter the clinic. ]

You know, your timing out there was perfect. Any second longer and I’m sure I would’ve had to check myself in to have my knees checked.

[faithfall]

A pleasure, Mr. Harry. He isn't hurt, is he? [ Said with all the concern of someone who's already halfway to planning a house call if that's the case. He takes the bag from Harry with a shake of his head.

While he won't say it aloud, he does know why Harry is vaguely familiar, now that he has some context. He's the bartender some of the nurses have been gossiping about. Adrian wonders if he should warn the poor man, but the vampires who work at the clinic are (mostly) harmless. They probably won't bite.

Adrian chuckles. ] And here I was going to apologize for running late. It sounds as if we very nearly lost two delivery men in a single night. Truly, this city is merciless.

[ The children get back to it, and he leads Harry into the clinic. The man attending the front desk looks from the bags, to Adrian and Harry, and waves them through without a fuss. Adrian continues: ] We're just going to the break room. If I don't divvy it up before letting them at it... well, I think you can guess how it will go.

[ He inclines his head, looking up at Harry. ] It's very kind of you to fill in for Mr. Ramirez. Is this the sort of thing you usually do after a long shift? Swooping in to save the day?

[fixateur]

[ ‘Car trouble’ is how Harry describes it to Adrian when he follows him. Nothing short of bad luck and a flat tire. If he had to guess, someone’s already down there to check on Ramirez and give him a hand with installing the spare tire.

As they walk past the front desk, Harry can spot a few familiar faces walking around: a few regulars and a couple of fresh faces who recently stopped in for a round of shots. Two other nurses were gossiping by the supply closet when they spotted him. He can hear an audible whisper saying, “That’s him! Isn’t he…” before giggling behind their clipboards.

Harmless rumor-milling. Harry has quickly come to learn that it comes with the territory when you’re serving Panorama’s nightlife. Some will see you as just a face serving drinks, and others will have … fantasies.

He continues to walk alongside Adrian. His head tilted downward to match his eye line. Despite being on his feet close to seven hours, he manages to keep some pep in his step. ]

That’s a generous way of phrasing it. But it wasn’t any trouble at all. Ramirez and the rest of the guys next door are like family, so it was natural to step in and lend a hand.

[ His eyes glance at the ‘Break Room’ sign just a couple of feet ahead of them. ]

I only wish I had known about this partnership sooner.