open

[vitis]

WHO: john & you!
WHERE: various: tisse, apprassage, chata
WHEN: 06.07
WHAT: odd jobs and screw-ups. hella SoL.
WARNINGS: swearing?! tbd

a. anywhere outside →

[ evidently, john's bitten off a bit more than he can chew by attempting to walk several dogs at once. and while he generally has a good grip on this, all going well and under control, a few of the dogs can be pretty rambunctious should a stranger stroll too close (not that this is a difficult feat, as they tend to take up the sidewalk) to the pack. in that one or two whine happily, strain hard against their harnesses for attention, try to jump up— etc. ]

Hey, Ruthie! [ err, no, crap. that's definitely wrong. ] —whatever your name is— Get down—

b. union grocery →

[ welcome to union grocery! serving all your fresh produce needs since way before john started working here. as it's the late afternoon, the establishment is on the emptier side during these hours. no need to fret: surely, there's a ready and able worker available to help with all your grocery needs(?).

or you might be ready to check-out with your various organic knickknacks. in an unexpected turn of events, it just so happens that the cashier is fast asleep at the register. he's got his boots kicked up on the counter, his cap pulled over his eyes while his hands rest behind his head. wanna thieve some dancing apples, some irresistibly greyscale broccoli? draw him a fine mustache? scare the shit outta him? well, now's your chance. ]

c. around the university →

[ rocinante's dead.

that name belonging to john's shitty, au!pickup truck that comes complete with a camper modification. it stalled, started, stalled and then stopped doing anything whatsoever in the middle of a parking lot, likely blocking a few spaces and generally being an eyesore. john's been scrambling about it for the last few minutes, trying anything he can think of: the diagnosis is likely that it's damn old.

there's a final, a hard slam of a door and then a stricken wail of rocinante!!!, akin to a father losing his only son. sorry, for the next few moments, he'll be preoccupied with mourning. ]

d. obligatory bar prompt →

[ it's been a rough time lately; thus, john's pretty much convinced that he's earned himself a drink. or a few. whatever. by the time he approaches someone, he's a few coins short and definitely heavily buzzed. ]

Hey! Wanna play a game? [ a wide, confident smile. ] I win, you buy me a drink.

[ geez. what an offer, right. ]

e. wildcard →
( ooc: if you'd like something else, pm me! i'm happy to write a starter.)

Comments

c

[protegge]

Uh.

[Why does he keep running across weird shit? This is the second time in two months. Well, three if you count turning tiny, but that's less weird than this in his opinion. He's been standing here for about a full ten minutes, watching with growing concern as John paces circles--funereal rites?--around his truck.]

[And now he's yelling. So.]

You gonna make it?

[vitis]

[ the question is enough to pull john out of his despair (considering how objectively shallow it was). there's a moment in which he looks up, eyes the stranger, and then straightens himself back to his full height. ]

No.

[ he looks a touch bothered for another second. but, okay, it's definitely not this bystander's fault and there's no way he's asking for guff. john snags his cap back over his head, it having fallen during his pacing. ]

I mean— yeah. Sorry. Gotta call a tow, I guess, and... there's a bus 'round here, yeah?

[ please. let the busses still be running. ]

[protegge]

There's a bus, yeah.

[Mista's just. Looking at John funny, still. It's not out of any kind of menace or anything like that, he's just confused. It's just a truck, right? Maybe repairing it would be super expensive. Maybe it's his dad's truck. Maybe it's his girlfriend's truck. Maybe--]

[And just like that he's concocted about twenty theories about the Tragedy Of The Busted Truck and feels much more connected to the situation. Of course he could just ask what the deal is, but: nah.]

I suck at cars but I'm awesome at busses. Got the schedule memorized. [Oh, but.] The last bus is in like twenty minutes, the tow might not get here in time.

[vitis]

[ john stares a moment back at him, with an are you serious? look, one that he's been making all too often lately. then he glances away, takes off his cap. runs his hand through his hair. replaces his cap. ]

Well, I guess...

[ give him another moment: he climbs into rocinante and shifts it into neutral. it's good that recolle is relatively flat; at least, the parking lot happens to be. keeping a hand on the side of it, he peers back at mista. ]

Would you mind helpin' me pushin' back? Even if no one's steerin', it'll definitely take two.

[ ... even that's iffy: it's pretty freakin' heavy. ]

B

[thesettingsun]

[Shuji understands the temptation of sleeping during work hours. He does! Especially on shifts where there aren't as many customers. But the last time he did that he got yelled at, so he should be helpful, right?

He leans in close to whisper some subliminal messaging while John's asleep.]

Overalls never look good.

[This is being helpful.]

Re: B

[vitis]

[ holy shit, you know that kind of sleep, where you definitely know you should not be sleeping, thus putting you on some sort of unconscious high alert for trouble and breeding recipe for overreaction— it's that. at the whisper, john startles; he knocks over a cup of pens with a stray elbow and actually very nearly falls from his chair. ]

Oh, hey! —Shuji.

[ he doesn't recognize that there'd been any actual words, but he's smoothing out his overalls. did someone diss his terrible taste in fashion, what? ]

Uh, how long was I out for??

[thesettingsun]

[Shuji yelps a little when John wakes up suddenly and halfway falls over. As if John had been the one to scare him, and not the other way around.]

I don't know. Probably too long? I won't tell your manager.

[Managers are scary.]

[vitis]

... Thanks. [ oh my god, the yelp though... john's does a quick, cursory glance about the place to ensure no one noticed... his exclamation, the yelp, and the mess of crap that just fell. and also to take note the current time.

coast is clear. he puts his feet back to the ground and begins to gather up the pens. ]

Shift's almost over. Guy that replaces me should be here soon. [ beat. he looks shuji up and down. ] —Were you gonna buy somethin'?

a.

[rygdea]

[Being the average 'beat cop' has it's ups and downs, and no one knows this better than Officer Fynn Izunia.

The best positive about being a cop is that most people are generally friendly towards you. He gets free cups of coffee all the time at his favorite café in Chata. Hell, sometimes he even gets free lunch at various little fast food places. The shopkeepers are also usually quite friendly and eager for a chat.

It's not a bad set up. Not at all.]

[Now for the long list of negatives that follow the badge. Fynn, more often than not, always ends up behind the desk filing incident reports thanks to the local hoodlums that like to hangout by the college. That and the fact some citizens literally think the local police are their indentured servants and expect Recollé PD to handle every petty squabble that comes up.

That's a huge negative, like the worst. Then it's the mind numbing boredom and that chance for danger the longer he lingers out here in uniform. Luckily, Fynn doesn't have to worry about that last bit.

The only danger here is getting mowed down by a few overenthusiastic dogs.]

Hey, hey!

[An amused chuckle escapes Fynn once one of the many dogs leap at him. Thank goodness he's a dog person. The officer ends up petting the friendly pooch after his initial shock. Still wearing his trademark blue aviators and usual navy blue uniform, Fynn takes a moment to scratch behind the dog's ears before turning towards the unfortunate dog walker with a grin.]

Rough day, kiddo?

[vitis]

[ it's a cop! of course, it's a cop. john swears there must be some bad karma coming back around for him. despite his mouth going momentarily dry, he manages a friendly smile in return. that's certainly made easier when this man isn't, you know, allergic to dogs or anything or arresting him for walking too many dogs at once. was that a thing? he hasn't a clue. ]

[ the dog's pretty insistent on nudging fynn's hand with its nose for even more pets, and might try to lick at his face should there be too long of a lapse of attention. john covertly puts a little more pressure on said dog's leash... ]

Ah— A lil', but it's been as good as can be, all things considered. Gotta make that extra dollar, y'know? [ his smile takes on apologetic air to it: ] Sorry, sir, a few of 'em are pretty excitable 'round new folk.

[rygdea]

[It's a cop! Thankfully he's a friendly cop. Some of the others at the precinct are quite surly at times. While Fynn does have his moments, he's definitely not so bad. That's why he doesn't mind Fido here trying to lick his face. He laughs it off as he tries to get the mutt to stay put with a pat or two.]

No need to apologize. [Fynn says cheerfully as he tries to keep the excitable dogs at ease here. He likes dogs a bit more than cats just because they don't scratch or hiss. Felines sometimes terrify him. After living at his brother's home for the last few months, Fynn is a little sick of cats.]

Trying to save up for college or somethin'?

[The blond does look a bit young...]

You look like you could use some help. Where you heading to?

[vitis]

[ john's mouth presses into a thin smile, holding back a laugh at the officer's overly-affectionate predicament. thankfully, having received an apparently set quota of attention, the more excited of the dogs have settled down a bit. in fact, one or two haven even taken to politely sitting.

but, ah, there's the question. curse his own young, boyish good looks! ]

Kinda! [ there's a roll of his shoulders in the form of a shrug. fortunately, his situation doesn't cause him embarrassment, ] Dropped outta high school a few years ago, so earnin' my GED at the University. Mostly it's just bills, sendin' some cash back home— the whole lot.

[ but financial woes are a different story. the mention of help surprises john, evident by the way his eyes widen a fraction. he doesn't want it to presume to be a direct offer, but— ]

Just 'round the block a few times, back to some folk's houses, then to the shelter. [ he points at the respective dogs. some he's being paid to walk, others are homeless and thus a volunteer job. and some he's still trying to remember the names of; give it a second. ] If you feel like lendin' a hand, those two—Lily 'n Ollie—seem to have taken a bit of a liking to you.

d

[wordcarvings]

[ Koutarou doesn't go drinking that often, and when he does it's mainly at The Inkwell. Sometimes he goes to other places though. But even if it's his cousin's bar or another one, he would have the same answer to that question. ]

I'm afraid that I'm not very good at games.

[vitis]

[ john might have a bit of a bias for the inkwell, too, so it's completely within the realm of possibility that they're there. but, oh, hey, a university professor. were he a bit more sober, he might recognize this as a 'take caution' sign instead of something encouraging. ]

You serious? Any of 'em?

[ an eyebrow cocked, he laces his fingers behind his head. ]

C'mon, you dunno even what we're playin' yet. [ frankly, he might not know yet, either. ]

[wordcarvings]

[ It’s fine. With his airheadedness and the easily distracted personality that he has, people don’t generally see him as a university professor unless they study under him--and then it’s not unusual for them to worry about him because of his personality. He’s more like the friend you’re constantly worrying might get caught up in an accident because he constantly has his nose buried in a book. Or a sketchbook, in his case. ]

Let’s just say that I’m generally not.

[ But maybe he has not played very many. He has tried some in the past, but likely not all. ]

What are we playing, then?

[vitis]

Hmm...

[ give john a moment as he considers something both simple for him to win (or so he hopes; he does want that drink) and not, like, completely discouraging to play. after tapping his chin in thought, he announces: ]

Ever heard of "Two Truths and a Lie"? It's easy.

B!

[flowrite]

[So it's the first time Fai has run into John since the bar, when they were tiny and Fai tried really hard to take John home with him. But at least they've spoken since then, through text, and things are sorted out. So Fai really doesn't feel too guilty or ashamed when he spots the cute blond sleeping at the register and decides to have a little fun with him.

He's buying celery, among other things, so Fai sets his basket down, carefully picks one of the leaves from the end of the celery, and creeps around to the other side of the register. And uses the leaf to tickle John's ear, trying really hard not to laugh out loud until the other man wakes up.]

[vitis]

[ why this!! at first, john continues to sleep, for the most part—he swats idly at the leaf with a few fingers, presuming it to be an annoying insect or something of the like. it's persistent. john peeks open an eye. turns out, it also a celery leaf. which, okay, usually don't move around on their own, let alone hover near his face. ]

Shit— What the hell!

[ congrats, fai. you've got him jumping from his seat. he hasn't put it together yet— give it a second until his nerves settle down again. ]

[flowrite]

[There are muffled giggles as John swats at the leaf but doesn't wake up right away. Fai is having way too much fun with this. And he's also clearly six years old.

When John jumps up, Fai jumps back and bursts into laughter, still holding the leaf but now wrapping his arms around himself while he cackles.]

Oh my god the look on your face! Priceless!

[vitis]

[ oh, what. john blinks, eyeing fai up and down a moment with an expression of bemusement. and then he has to smile, slowly. he'll accept the cackling, okay; he'd do the same was a proper sitting duck for it. ]

... You got me good, there.

[ seriously, he's almost embarrassed. john straightens himself out proper, runs his hand through his hair (it does nothing to fix it). ]

Were you— [ he chances a look around; it's mostly empty still, but please don't have any of his fellow employees have seen that. any of that, really. ] —You think you were the only one that saw that?

c

[mercurio]

[unfortunately for john, he isn't a dog. also unfortunately for john, prompto's checking his phone's map app to make sure he's going the right way. this parking lot is his usual short cut, usually unoccupied as people tend to just park their cars and go; he is not expecting some idiot to walk out of a vehicle the moment prompto is passing through]

[he slams on the breaks too late]

Shit--!

[the moped scrambled (but not dead!) on the floor, prompto winces at having his left side caught under it. but he's looking around himself at the person he definitely hit!]

Ah, shit! Say you ain't dead, dude!

[trying to get himself out from under his moped..!]

Re: c

[vitis]

[ HE'S DEAD...

john had also looked up just a little too late; there's a flash of a familiar, yet panicked face, and then the screech of tires before impact. he's thrown entirely off balance, hitting the concrete hard. ]

[ nah, just give him a moment to get his bearings. john rolls and then braces himself on his elbows to better focus. his palms are skinned and his side, is likewise, in a whole lot of pain; namely his lower torso, where a handle had hit him sharpest. though he's not exactly pinpointing the pain, there's just adrenaline and that thought that he was hit by a goddamn moped this last moment or so. ]

Prompto! What the hell?!

[ see, he's fine. in another moment or so, he'll probably even be stumbling to his feet. ]

Re: c

[mercurio]

[oh shit, and the dead person knows his name. prompto is fucked. suddenly, pretending to not hear the other sounds like the most viable option, once he realises that it's fucking john.]

[damn]

Hey, dude!

[limps his way out of his moped, and walks off the pain of his own fall like nothing happened]

Sup! Long time no see!

[he's sweating]

1/2

[vitis]

'Sup? What do you think—

[ all right, there are a few things about this scenario that get him to pause. it culminates in a sight. one, what the hell, how can you be so seemingly mellow about this (whereas as he isn't). two, as, having stumbled to a standing position, he kicks at one of the tires of his truck and has to reflect on the fact that he's stopped in the middle of the goddamn parking lot; this is definitely not entirely prompto's fault. and three—

john takes a deep breath. ]

[vitis]

Sorry. Not a great day.

[ as much as he realizes that that's a bad excuse. ]

But nothing's up; things could've been a lot worse. [ not without a sharpish tone. he wipes one of his hands on his the leg of his pants, looks prompto up and down and glances to his bike. ]

How 'bout with you? [ more like how... you doin' with that fall... ]