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.)