Anthony (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scramasax) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2014-01-25 09:44 am
scramasax) wrote in savetheearth2014-01-25 09:44 am
(no subject)
Who: Anthony Janvier and OPEN on the 23rd; Harper Sutherland, Reilanin Bainbridge, and Angeline Strauss on the 23rd and 24th.
Where: Around Locke, rounding a park and ending at one grocery store on the 23rd; the library and Angeline's place of work on the 24th.
When: Backdated to Jan. 23rd to Jan. 24th; midday to evening.
What: The resident zombie is, courtesy of Master Nine-Lived Detective, perfectly alive again for a few days. What better way to spend them than outside a bit, running a few errands?
By the time he has split off from Alex, he's already out and well-out and underprepared for it. No tasks lined up, nothing on hand except for a bit of cash, but that's well and good - he hadn't known what to do with this time in the first place, and he's got another day, at least, in all likelihood - this is hitting the ground running.
And running, he can do! Heads quickly down a few blocks in a store-lined zone, remembering his way around and enjoying it - open space without any need for a hiding spot, not that he feels coming on. Occasional bump or near-bump on his blind side, but open, nonetheless, and the sun's no bother and he can properly feel the wind. Both facts are the winter weather aside.
Meanders into the park for maximum effect of outside-ness within a few hours. He flatly drops into a bench. Brings out the sheet of paper he's got pocketed to check up on the network, unfolds it. Proceeds with the checking to his left, in case - not even thinking to compensate for incomplete view of the right.
And with that similarly cursory check done with he can resolve to get at least one minor thing taken care of - he expects he's actually going to need to sleep today, after all.
Fetching what it surely was that at least some of the money he's got on hand was meant or implicitly encouraged to be used for, it is.
He's at the store picking backing ingredients off a shelf and of all things he's forgotten how to do this without actively thinking. He didn't take a basket on the way over here - and obviously whatever he's going to pick is going to be bagged, but then he's going to need to carry those bags by hand on the way home...
Has his arms a bit full scanning shelves for more manageable shapes, if not sizes, turning a bit - doesn't need to be everything at once, just what he'll need to fill in gaps in or re-supply anything there's an obvious shortage of. He can and should come up with a proper plan tomorrow.
-----
He does set out with a proper plan today. Doesn't leave too early, seeing as technically he should be in school now, and has a backpack on him, which may or may not allow him to stand out a little less in addition to serving its utilitarian purpose.
Firm note to drop by the library, which he does - pushes the door open and promptly slips off into an aisle at semi-random just in case by some chance anyone might be present who might recognize him, ask where on earth he's been or pass on word to certain parties to who might be interested.
Either the layout's a hint different, it's occurring to him, or he's misremembering - he supposes either the earthquake forced some reorganization thinking back to Ms. Bainbridge's network message or he's just a bit out of touch. Goes to wandering back around, peering around and into the aisles to at least clue himself into a quick re-mapping-out.
At the store by the time the sun's started going down, however, he knows just where to go. Has made a proper list, weaved in and out of and picked from the aisles, and is at the front. Makes it to the register, hands over cash, responds to a well-meant inquiry about the patch over his eye with a sheepishly-laughing "Oh - it's -- surgery," stuffs the change back into his pocket and takes the bags with a thanks and a duck of the head.
He slows down towards the door stalling on whether to set down his bags and try to fit the shopping bags into the backpack with the books before or after he walks through it.
Catches a glimpse, as he does so, of what looks rather like long blue hair with streaks back inside.
Does a double-take and freezes to the spot. Partly blocking the doorway. That does look rather like who he thinks it does.
Where: Around Locke, rounding a park and ending at one grocery store on the 23rd; the library and Angeline's place of work on the 24th.
When: Backdated to Jan. 23rd to Jan. 24th; midday to evening.
What: The resident zombie is, courtesy of Master Nine-Lived Detective, perfectly alive again for a few days. What better way to spend them than outside a bit, running a few errands?
By the time he has split off from Alex, he's already out and well-out and underprepared for it. No tasks lined up, nothing on hand except for a bit of cash, but that's well and good - he hadn't known what to do with this time in the first place, and he's got another day, at least, in all likelihood - this is hitting the ground running.
And running, he can do! Heads quickly down a few blocks in a store-lined zone, remembering his way around and enjoying it - open space without any need for a hiding spot, not that he feels coming on. Occasional bump or near-bump on his blind side, but open, nonetheless, and the sun's no bother and he can properly feel the wind. Both facts are the winter weather aside.
Meanders into the park for maximum effect of outside-ness within a few hours. He flatly drops into a bench. Brings out the sheet of paper he's got pocketed to check up on the network, unfolds it. Proceeds with the checking to his left, in case - not even thinking to compensate for incomplete view of the right.
And with that similarly cursory check done with he can resolve to get at least one minor thing taken care of - he expects he's actually going to need to sleep today, after all.
Fetching what it surely was that at least some of the money he's got on hand was meant or implicitly encouraged to be used for, it is.
He's at the store picking backing ingredients off a shelf and of all things he's forgotten how to do this without actively thinking. He didn't take a basket on the way over here - and obviously whatever he's going to pick is going to be bagged, but then he's going to need to carry those bags by hand on the way home...
Has his arms a bit full scanning shelves for more manageable shapes, if not sizes, turning a bit - doesn't need to be everything at once, just what he'll need to fill in gaps in or re-supply anything there's an obvious shortage of. He can and should come up with a proper plan tomorrow.
-----
He does set out with a proper plan today. Doesn't leave too early, seeing as technically he should be in school now, and has a backpack on him, which may or may not allow him to stand out a little less in addition to serving its utilitarian purpose.
Firm note to drop by the library, which he does - pushes the door open and promptly slips off into an aisle at semi-random just in case by some chance anyone might be present who might recognize him, ask where on earth he's been or pass on word to certain parties to who might be interested.
Either the layout's a hint different, it's occurring to him, or he's misremembering - he supposes either the earthquake forced some reorganization thinking back to Ms. Bainbridge's network message or he's just a bit out of touch. Goes to wandering back around, peering around and into the aisles to at least clue himself into a quick re-mapping-out.
At the store by the time the sun's started going down, however, he knows just where to go. Has made a proper list, weaved in and out of and picked from the aisles, and is at the front. Makes it to the register, hands over cash, responds to a well-meant inquiry about the patch over his eye with a sheepishly-laughing "Oh - it's -- surgery," stuffs the change back into his pocket and takes the bags with a thanks and a duck of the head.
He slows down towards the door stalling on whether to set down his bags and try to fit the shopping bags into the backpack with the books before or after he walks through it.
Catches a glimpse, as he does so, of what looks rather like long blue hair with streaks back inside.
Does a double-take and freezes to the spot. Partly blocking the doorway. That does look rather like who he thinks it does.
no subject
The fixation is hard to shake off. It's more a matter of masking that it's happening at all, and she watches him toying with the books on the shelf above them.
The thought crosses her mind to ask Nick for something similar, but it seems extraordinarily selfish. She's functional. She's safe, for the time being. It seems unnecessary.
Or maybe a part of her just doesn't want to? She touches on the thought only a moment before she notices him speaking again.
"That's good. Maybe just to take a walk and not be bothered by anything... that sounds nice." It did sound nice. She used to walk everywhere, all the time, without a worry in the world. "It's good to see you again- here, that is. There's no history group anymore, unfortunately. I just can't keep up with it these days."
Has he gone to see his parents? she wonders. No, it would be a bad idea. "...it's good to see you here," she reiterates a moment later, still looking at him, her eyes too focused, too bright, but her words sincere and softer than they ever had been, for someone usually distant and rigid.
no subject
That's true - Alex is in much the same position as of now, he's done Anthony the kindness of a few visits, and he hasn't thought to be over to see him thus far. He'd gone out yesterday with Alex Kusnitz on invitation and made no plans to specifically meet without any further - but now that she mentions it maybe it'd not be too late to offer? If not the sooner the better, he's got to at least have something to bring or do in mind if he passes by, make it worth a little more...
The books are snug and as uniformly set as they can be under his control.
Back to her, sheepish twitching smile.
" -- It's good to see you, ma'am - " And it's after he returns it that a little soft surprise flashes in him - brings a light, acute glow up somewhere in the back half of his brain, ducking everything below it in esteem.
And wistfulness.
"I'm sorry it's... -- it's been - you've had too much to manage..."
That's meant mostly on her behalf, but a sliver of it at the core is at the fact that although it isn't as if he'd have known if she hadn't said it, somewhere between the summer and now, history meetings have ceased - small things of pleasant normalcy.