So Hoist Up the John B. Sail, See How the Mainsail Sets [OPEN]

[dead_black_eyes]

Who: Lazarus, Tony, OPEN to anyone (also feel free to use this as a mingle post and start new threads!)
Where: Espresso Yourself
When: September 9, Tuesday
What: L wants to keep his business running as usual, even if he, and at least one employee, are not.
Warnings: Swearing, breaking coffee mugs, an owner more likely than ever to bite off a hipster's head? To be updated if necessary.



No on would blame you for taking more time off. As much time as you need to rest and get your head together, you know...

L knew, but that didn't make him resent it any less. Roughly three weeks had passed since his and Tony's rescue, and though he was extremely fortunate to have Belle covering for him, taking care of paperwork, the payroll, stocking and managing and everything else that had slipped out of his grasp after Moises' failed rescue, he wasn't content to sit around all day, getting bored and self-destructive and griping darkly on the network to people like poor Anthony, who needed their hope to simply survive another day. That was hardly productive, and it was the opposite of progress.

Whether or not his other was a great detective who could save the world, Lazarus Lawliet was still the owner and manager of a coffee shop that others now relied on for their livelihood. Life had to go on; perhaps returning would reinstate some small sense of purpose, even in the shadow of Albero's threat and the latest horrifying kidnapping. If one thing could be said of L's time in captivity, it was that the same things just didn't frighten him as much as they used to.

If he could stare down the barrel of a loaded gun, drenched in his own sweat and someone else's blood, he could handle some scare tactics... and definitely a little bit of fucking dirt.

If other employees were on tenterhooks today, there was no blaming them. L was brisk and curt at best, and despite the fact that summer was gently and gradually fading outdoors, he'd brought his very own cold snap into the shop. Though he was always eccentric, he'd shown up in the middle of the breakfast rush, checked the refrigerator, and removed an unopened half-gallon of milk three days past its expiration date. Long-time employees and people who knew him well would have expected him to be characteristically neurotic about it, asking someone else to dump it, avoiding the smell, convinced it did smell even if it was odorless, gagging at the mere thought of something even a day expired being so dangerously close to him.

Don't even open it, just take it to the dumpster. I'll call and ask if they can do an early pickup... I don't need a crisis like this today...

Instead, he'd set it on the counter, opened it, and taken a long, deep drink, swallowing a full seven consecutive times before using his sleeve to wipe his mouth. The container had dropped from his hands to the floor, where he stepped lightly over it on his way to the register as it leaked what remained of its contents into a smooth white puddle.

Business as usual was kind of an ambitious goal, but maybe the employees and customers would pull off a relative success in that regard. Because despite Albero's threats, Espresso Yourself was there to stay, a point on which L remained firm.

As long as it helps people, it's not going anywhere, and neither am I.

Comments

L and OPEN

[dead_black_eyes]

Only one person's judgment is warped enough to put Lazarus on the register, and that person, unfortunately, is Lazarus.

He's made mistakes today. They're not mistakes others likely feel comfortable correcting, even if they are respectful and careful about it. Most of them are small things, negligible little rules that no one would notice unless they were watching him particularly carefully, things like leaving the water on in the bathroom or skipping a step in the dish-washing process.

Customer service, on the other hand, isn't something that can be overlooked or quietly picked up after him.

"Uh. What. Is. This?" A hipster douche asks, wrinkling his nose after taking a sip of his latte. "Is this pumpkin? The hell, man, I ordered a caramel mocha with foam. Make it again, if I wanted some sellout corporate early September gimmicky seasonal flavor I would have told you."

"No," L replies easily. "Next?"

"What?" The hipster douche asks blankly. "What do you mean, 'no?'"

"I mean I'm not making it again. It's a perfectly good latte and pumpkin isn't gimmicky."

"You took my money, and I paid for a caramel mocha with--"

"You retroactively ordered pumpkin, because guess what? That's easier for me. You can go away now."

The hipster just stares for a second. "Go get your manager. Right now."

"No," L says firmly. "Enjoy your pumpkin latte. Happy early Halloween."

"I don't believe this," the hipster says. "Fuck you, fuck your attitude, man, and fuck your pumpkin latte." Uncapping the lid, he dumps it on the counter, flipping L the double bird. "Enjoy cleaning that up, asshole."

He starts heading for the door, but L is faster. Though his hands and grip are as bad as ever, something's changed about him physically, specifically that he actually has some muscle development, some strength, and some skill in martial arts. In seconds, he's following and grabbing the customer in a headlock, hauling him back to the counter where he shoves his face into the spilled coffee.

Though it looks like L is enjoying cleaning up the counter very much with the hipster douche's well-groomed and absorbent beard, it might be a good idea to run some damage control. Like, immediately.

SHOULD THEY REALLY BE WORKING ON THE SAME SHIFT this is too much ptsd for one room

[oncedevil]

Admittedly, Tony wasn't much better. He was alright if he could fixate on a single task and devote himself only to that. Sweeping, stacking and restacking the coffee beans, rotating product in the back. Really, anything that kept him away from people who might look funny at his eye patch or ask why part of his hair was still so short.

He still bumped things now and then, a few knocked over items while he readjusted his reach to match his less spatially aware vision, but overall he thought he was doing tolerable. Not fantastic, he knew he wasn't doing fantastic, but he could wash dishes. Yes that was good, dishes.

That was right up until he heard voices rising, and knew a situation was escalating out front. If it were anyone else he'd have trusted them to handle it on their own, but Tony was particularly protective of L now, and he also knew that L probably shouldn't be left to his own devices dealing with high stress situations at the moment. His suspicions confirmed quite neatly upon leaving the back...

Wow, L, he didn't know you had it in you.

"Uh, L, you should probably not do that it isn't sanitary..."

Well that's one way to show concern for the customer, Tony. Still, he moves forward to try to lay a hand on L's wrist, to get his attention if nothing else. Buddy can you not get us all arrested today please?

[dead_black_eyes]

The flailing and sputtering hipster is pretty handily pinned by L's deceptively wiry frame, a sharp elbow digging between his shoulder blades to make sure his face and beard remain against the counter. L is so single-minded about it that anyone observing might be reminded of one man drowning another; it's probably for the best that the spilled coffee is maybe a millimeter deep, at most.

Tony's words don't get much of a reaction, but the light touch on his wrist gets L to glance up, and then hastily loosen his hold on the hipster... who responds by scrambling upright and punching his attacker so hard in the face that it knocks him off his spindly legs.

In a day or two, he will have a shiner around one eye so dark that from a distance, people will think that he and Tony are wearing matching patches.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't call the cops right the hell now," the hipster threatens, brandishing his iPhone as L sits up.

[oncedevil]

Attempted drowning was exactly what this situation reminded Tony of, uncomfortably enough. Fortunately it probably wasn't very possible to drown a hipster in a millimeter of pumpkin latte, though L was giving it a valiant effort. Amusing as that might've been at any other time, right now it was only alarming.

L's violence was startling enough, though Tony had witnessed a bit of that back at the hospital he recalled very little. Only a blurry memory of shouting and floating/falling to the floor. L being violent was one thing, disapproved of to be certain, but he was still firmly out of the category of a 'threat'. He was, after all, the man who had suffered alongside him during that terrible ordeal.

Hipsterdouche McNeckbeard, however, did not have the prestigious position of being regarded as an ally, and attacking L in retaliation was perhaps the biggest mistake he'd made yet. Though the medication went a long way in reigning in Tony's volatile moods, there was one part of him that utterly ignored any attempts at suppression, in fact actively fought against them.

And that part was furious.

Up and over the counter in a single fluid motion that might have been surprising for anyone who had watched him bumbling about earlier. A nearby broom had been snatched up on the way, and with its help that phone earned a quick lesson in flying. Too bad iPhones aren't especially aerodynamic. Just as quickly the handle of the broom was pointed at the guy's throat in such a way one might mistake it for a blade. "I'd suggest," It was near a snarl, but Tony's tone had taken on an unusually... coldly calm, quality. "You hit the road."

[dead_black_eyes]

The hipster squawks in anger and indignation as his phone whizzes across the room, clattering to the ground with a cracked, feebly flickering screen. He doesn't have the opportunity to really dwell too much on it, though, because a broom handle is in his face with all the focus of a blade's point. His eyes cross as he stares first at the tip, then travel along the length of the handle to the young man brandishing it.

"You're fucking insane," he spits, knocking aside the broom handle. "Numbered freaks. I'm gonna call the news, the health department, I'll have this place shut down..."

Despite his threats, he's backing away to retrieve his broken iPhone, wincing at its sad state.

"Yes, hello?" L's voice interrupts; he's crawled back behind the counter, where he has the shop's landline telephone cradled between his shoulder and his ear. "I think I've just been assaulted, by..." he squints at the credit card receipt. "Derrick Marvin? My eye, I was punched. ...no, I didn't hit back, I have a problem with my hands and I wear an assistive brace at work... I don't understand it, either..."

And just like that, Hipsterdouche McNeckbeard does, indeed, hit the road, the door banging closed behind him.

Assuming after the first thread.

[scramasax]

And Anthony had figured he could only do matters any good by staying out of sight, listening and bracing further and further back through escalation with this will all go wrong, it's mounting to explode right back -- !

And the lost outburst did knock something loose to then splash and send something slowly, slowly, woozily sinking.

He stands there for a while breathing although he doesn't need to - perhaps in part to pre-modulate and re-pre-modulate before he's got room to do or say anything.

When he's got that room - when L and Tony are done - he slouches all but tight down. Shuffles over to L, tries to keep his face less-directed towards any clear voices, and in an almost low, soft flutelike tone managed through craning his pitch up from a ducked, browbeaten point: "Umm. Should I -- clean... anything up -- ?"

[dead_black_eyes]

The heat of the moment had been such that L momentarily forgot that there were other employees in the shop; it had happened so quickly, and been so intense and violent, that everything else had seemed to fade into the background. It melts back into focus with Anthony's odd, resonant voice nudging into his thoughts, and he turns toward the poor creature.

He probably has no idea what just happened, let alone an idea of how to handle it.

Anthony has ears, though, and the raised voices were hard to miss even for any who were trying to ignore them.

L faces Anthony fully, and without answering immediately, he pulls him into a tight, close embrace. It's the first time he's had any prolonged contact with the undead young man; even during their Braille lessons, he consciously avoids their fingertips brushing accidentally.

"I'm so glad you're here, Mois- Anthony. Thank you. That's a great help, so..." he extracts himself from the hug, slipping the cloth into one of the rotting hands.

-slides on over here to continue

[oncedevil]

Tony was silent when L asked his question, remaining where he was, fixated on the door like a self-appointed sentinel. Compassion, cold, it didn't matter to him much, words were words and right now he was requiring a moment or two to reset back out of his semi-feral mindset.

Another voice broke through the fog, softer and certainly carrying more emotion than L's, one might think it funny considering the source. Finally he turned, just enough to eye the two over his shoulder. An eyebrow raised, head canted to the side in curiosity.

Savage to physically affectionate in no time flat. Tony would think it was odd, but at this point he'd pretty well given up on making sense of anything.

"Sorry about that, you alright, dude?" Tony was pointedly not answering the question for himself. You know the answer, L. Don't tell Richard.

[scramasax]

The instant response to that was a sharp withdrawing noise like a dog toy being pressed through a pillow, and he flash-freezes at full contact, soft holding pressure.

Slow and suspension in terminal velocity for a second and then a figurative box dropping with cards spilling on the floor. He hangs in position without actually hanging, yesss, thank you thank you thank you, good to know you're right there and on the other hand this never happens, L never touches him if he can help it, and what a switch --

He catches the correction on the start of a name but races on past it. L passes him a cloth and slips back and Anthony's left uncertainly, unpleasantly floating. Concern. Lingering surprise -

Re-anchored when Tony speaks up, snaps his head aside in the direction of his voice. "Uhh -- ?" Nods driven by under-controlled weight. "Mmh - fine. Fine if - if you, er." And cast between where he guesses they each are. "Are."

Sounded like - a certain amount and form of violence to say the least. " -- Just uhh."

Just deeply, deeply worried. Not only over what exactly just happened but what that outburst at the end could mean, as it were. He's not going to say that; feels wrong, somehow, unnecessary as if it'd be a blame for causing worry - and why on earth is he standing here talking, yes, yes, he can lend a hand cleaning up! Reaches a hand aside to catch his fingers at the edge of the counter --

After those first two threads

[radiantchicken]

It did not take long at all for word of the incident to reach Torin. He'd actually stepped out back to take a bit of a break, to get a bit of fresh air and to poke around at the new cell phone he'd gotten with money he'd earned while working. And he had been experimenting with this Twitter thing when #espressoyourself and #freaksoflocke had suddenly exploded. A little more investigation yielded a very rough account of what had happened, as did a bit of asking around in the shop. Once he's got a good picture of what went down there, he'll seek L out.

"L, if things become difficult out here, please, come get me." He used to live in a zoo; he's fairly certain he can handle the worst a coffee shop can throw at him.

[dead_black_eyes]

L was currently unaware of the shitstorm that was going down on Twitter at the moment. He was back in his office with a bag of frozen vegetables pressed against his eye, which was only red now but significantly puffy and swollen. In a few days it would be a very impressive shade of deep purple.

He glanced up when he saw Torin at his door, wincing at the shift between the tautly pulled skin at the site of the injury and the rough plastic against it.

"You heard?" he asked, wondering if Tony had filled him in... though he suspected that Tony was also off in some corner somewhere taking a break from dealing with customers for awhile. "I don't... this sounds cliche and unbelievable, but I actually don't know how it happened. I've never had a short temper, much less..."

Whatever the hell that was.

[radiantchicken]

"I'm aware of the situation." He is not certain that now is the best time to inform L of the trouble on Twitter. Perhaps in a little bit, he would quietly assume control of Espresso Yourself's Twitter and try to put out the fire, but it's not his concern right now. He's more worried about L. "And you've been through quite an ordeal. It's not surprising that you might be a little more...likely to lash out from time to time."

[dead_black_eyes]

I'm aware of the situation. It says so much despite being a fairly brief and simple statement. Maybe at this point Torin even knows more than L himself, which is an uncomfortable prospect, to say the least.

What this must look like from the outside...

"Whatever the reason, it's not an excuse," he replies, furrowing his brow, "It's not an excuse. 'Lashing out' isn't... I'm trying to protect Numbered people, not be a liability."

a little to the side thread after top thread

[ursoreckless]

Hipsterdouche McNeckbeard did hit the road. Unfortunately for him, Shou had seen a little of the stuff happening in the shop and then noticed the sudden influx of tweets about the encounter. So like any respectable not-really-a-gangster playboy, he decided to follow the angry hipster down the road and when he took a turn down a very lonely stretch of street, Shou stepped up to him and grabbed him by the neck.

A lot stronger than someone with his frame should be, Shou pulled the hipster to a stop and, smiling thinly, leaned up close to him.

"You really should think about what you did and what could have happened to you before you do something completely stupid to that place."

[dead_black_eyes]

Hipsterdouche McNeckbeard spent a lot of time in coffee shops. He especially liked the pastries, and though he watched his figure to better fit into his sister's borrowed skinny jeans, he didn't move much, and the result was being kind of out of shape. Though he'd started off at a run, it quickly waned to a puffing, uneven shuffle, and when he thought he was safe enough (the cops had his name and he'd been reported for hitting a handicapped guy, for fuck's sake), he slowed to a cautious walk. He pulled out his iPhone, which was, after a couple of restarts, cracked and dinged up and glitchy, but functional enough to post to Twitter.

Never going to this shithole again. Whackjobs and freaks working with no supervision, I literally just got ATTACKED by the psycho behind the counter and threatened by another one when I tried to defend myself. #espressoyourself #freaksoflocke #notinmycity

He stowed his phone, starting to come down from the adrenaline, taking deep breaths as he strolled. But when he turned down a particular alley that was a reliable shortcut, if on the lonely side...

"The fuck, man...!?" he choked out, looking Shou up and down. He knew that muscle took up less space than fat, but to that extent...?

"I just... wanted a coffee and... like... it's their job to make coffee, not fucking attack customers!" he sputtered.

[ursoreckless]

"It's their job to make coffee, yes," Shou said, just letting the street bleed into his words. If the hipster was smart, he would realize that someone dressed as expensively as Shou and talking like a low-level punk was not someone to mess with. If he was dumb, well Shou might not have the same temper and hair trigger of his other, but he still was not about to screw around with someone that he felt really should be sitting in a trashcan about now.

"But it's also your job - as a paying customer - to understand that throwing an entitlement fit over said coffee would get you inta trouble." He kept his grip firm, his voice in a steady, conversational drone and his smile still light and easy like they were friends just talking about friendly things, see?

"Espresso Yourself's been openly a numbered place for several months. As a group, they aren't exactly stuck in the same world as you are, and you go walking like a hard-on in there and expect you can push your way 'round them?" He tsk'ed lightly, shaking his head. "You started drama and it didn't go the way you thought it should and now it's their fault? Are you some kind of idiot or did your brains get dumped outta your ears?"

[dead_black_eyes]

The hipster was in the process of getting his liberal arts degree, but he wasn't what one would consider overly intelligent. Despite his posturing and big talk, he was ultimately a pretty simple guy who liked sweater vests and impractical glasses. And right now, he was so scared that he was about thirty seconds away from pissing himself.

"He got my order wrong," he whined, though he knew, even as he said it, that it was probably a mistake. "I mean... yeah, yeah I think I overreacted, but he did too. And then his fucking attack dog... different world or not, I mean... what the hell, someone should be managing these people, someone should be regulating them so this shit doesn't happen!"

Aftermath

[oncedevil]

Shortly after the whole ordeal, instead of sticking around to help (sorry, Anthony) Tony absconded to the back storage, where he tucked himself behind some boxes and bags of coffee beans in a corner. With L acting stranger than normal, and talking about Moises, he just needed to get away for a bit.

He just needed to be away from strangers and emotions and smells for a bit, until he could get his mind and anger to settle. It was still there, gnawing at his gut and insisting he should have gone after the hipster instead of allowing him to flee.

Frankly, Tony wasn't a big fan of this new side of himself, the increasingly hungry and violent side. He just really wanted to rest.

o/

[brotimaeus]

He'd missed the start, only walking in as the hipster fled pursued by Shou and by the time he'd worked out what had happened, Tony had disappeared. Richard headed straight for the counter and in a voice far colder than he had ever turned on L before asked the man where the teenager had gone.

There was no room in his tone for fucking around.

Not long after, he found him in the storage room. He should have expected that. Somewhere small and dark and safe. He crouched down in front of the kid and exhaled a soft almost-sigh. It was just one mess on top of another, wasn't it?

"L told me you were back here."

;w;

[oncedevil]

Tony had twitched at the sound of someone entering, curling in on himself and drawing a knee protectively up under his chin. He wasn't in the mood to entertain anyone and certainly wasn't going to move out of his safe spot until his heart stopped racing and his head pounding.

Upon realizing who it was, however, some of the renewed tension eased out of him, his shoulders slumped and he let his head rest against the wall. The knee stayed where it was, he was comfortable that way now.

"Tell you what happened?" He grumbled watching Richard tiredly. It really was one thing after another and he was about sick and tired of it all. Unfortunately you can't just bulldoze your way through this sort of thing, it doesn't work.

[brotimaeus]

He hated seeing him like this, but as things stood.. there was no one he could actively pin the blame on.

Sure, he could blame the mafia but the goons who had been keeping he and L prisoner were either dead by his hand or (likely) by the hands of their own and the higher echelons of the group were faceless figures that he could so easily rail against but could never touch.

"I got the idea," he responded quietly, offering Tony a hand. "Come on. I'm taking you home, then I'm gonna come back here and have a few words with our friend Mr. Lawliet."

L + Richard, after Tony + Richard

[dead_black_eyes]

Since the incident, L had remained largely in his office, pressing a bag of frozen vegetables against his eye. Not that it would help much; the punch had been hard enough that it would leave a livid bruise on L's fair skin, evidence of the bizarre encounter that had just taken place.

L didn't have a temper. It wasn't like him to lash out at friends or strangers.

He tried to busy himself with paperwork, knowing that a very terse Richard had gone to look for Tony some time ago, and that sooner or later, the consequences for his actions would probably land squarely on his head. Even if the shop's reputation didn't suffer by some miracle, someone, eventually, would want to have words with the detective.

[brotimaeus]

He'd taken Tony home first. Of course he had and he'd honestly been loath to leave him alone but he and L needed to talk and it just wouldn't do to have this talk over the network. That you never knew who could be watching you was the least of his concerns.

Richard walked in without knocking. That, to begin with, wasn't like him at all and he seemed to realise this as he shut the door just a fraction too hard. Rather than move into the room he lingered by the door, fingers still loose around the handle, tucked up behind his back.

"You shouldn't fucking be here."

The first thing he said, blunt and honest, hadn't been what he intended to say.. but there it was.

[dead_black_eyes]

Fortunately, L wasn't doing anything destructive or illicit when Richard let himself in. If he had been, that would have been a whole new world of trouble on top of the trouble he knew he was already facing. He winced only slightly, shoulders stiffening, weathering the blunt statement as he peered through his dark, shaggy bangs at Richard.

"Yeah, well... neither of us knew that this morning. So."

Maybe it came off sounding dismissive, or roughly apologetic; it was hard to read intent in L's voice these days, because that monotone was practically impenetrable. Either way, what was clear was the fact that L believed Richard, even if it was hard to admit even to himself that the man was right.

[brotimaeus]

If he had, they would certainly not have started this conversation pleasantly. Richard tightened his grip fractionally on the door handle before he strode into the room and placed both hands on the table, leaning forwards.

At least L believed him. That was something. A place to start.

"You know it now. What are you gonna do about it?"