dead_black_eyes: "Meds" (Baby did you forget to take your meds?)
dead_black_eyes ([personal profile] dead_black_eyes) wrote in [community profile] savetheearth2015-02-04 01:36 pm

I read the news today, oh boy, about a lucky man who made the grade [February 4, OPEN]

Who: Lazarus Lawliet and open to anyone!
What: A day in the life
Where: Multiple locations around town
When: February 4, Wednesday
Warnings: Mild swearing and suggestive content

A- Willow Ridge Boarding Academy, Morning

With the help of various Numbered individuals, a few discreet contractors and one chameleon-faced custodian, Willow Ridge is coming into its own and turning into a somewhat respectable establishment. By now, it's common knowledge that the teleporter is in the finished basement that Shou has helped to turn into a very comfortable work space, and a clear and efficient path, complete with helpful paper signs, has been established to help anyone who wants to use it get there as quickly and easily as possible. Since he owns and inhabits the building housing the main mode of Numbered travel between echo zones, Lazarus sees some serious traffic, and has gotten used to it. He no longer automatically looks up every time he hears a door and footsteps, but sometimes if he knows that there will be a lot of people coming through, he makes sure that coffee and donuts are available for travelers coming and going.

That's not to say that people don't come to inquire about other matters. L employs Numbered when and where he can, whether they're handy with tools, good with computers, or are just capable enough to learn how to make a good latte. He's easy enough to find, tending to stick to where the teleporter, computers and coffee are located downstairs. That being said, if he's not there and you're looking for a quiet moment to speak with him in private, he's probably upstairs in his room, sitting by the open window and taking a cigarette break.

B- Espresso Yourself, Afternoon

Now that Espresso Yourself is open again, it means picking up slack as the Numbered population worldwide seems to be thinning out. While that makes the remaining Numbered more high profile and curious to the general public, it also means that Lazarus is scooping up shifts and stepping behind the counter on days where he's short-staffed in an effort to keep the business running smoothly. As long as he's making something like a profit, he can put that money into other projects and causes. Espresso Yourself isn't a cash cow, but it takes in with enough to keep up renovations on the school and provide the people working for him with a respectable paycheck. Considering the social climate they're occupying, that's not bad at all, and Lazarus won't complain.

Maybe you're here to sample the vegan offerings on the menu, or for a mid-afternoon smoothie, but if you drop by after school lets out, you might get caught in the middle of some trouble. Four of Locke City High's football players come in wearing varsity jackets, laughing and joking as they order the most needlessly complicated drinks they can. L knows they're trouble the second they start teasing Torin's parrots, but even after he tells them to cut it out, they're talking too loudly at their table, making audible fun of Lazarus, his employees and the hipster clientele. He stares; one of them makes eye contact with him, and grins as he dumps what's left of his latte on the hardwood floor.

"Hey, this coffee sucks!" he says loudly, to the answering laughter of his friends. Lazarus sets his jaw, reaching under the counter for a bucket half full of soapy water and grabbing a mop as he comes out from behind the counter. The offending football player snickers, standing up to allow him access to cleaning up the mess, but Lazarus holds the mop out toward him.

"Uh, I don't work here," he snorts.

"Clean up your mess," Lazarus says softly, pressing the handle into his chest.

Another one of the football players stands up, and the one who dumped his coffee knocks the handle away.

"Look, it was an accident. You're lucky I don't ask for my money back. What are you going to do about it?"

"No accident," Lazarus says, picking up the mop and practically flinging it at the kid. "Clean up your mess, and then get out."

"You taking crazy pills, bro?" the coffee spiller's a big guy, and he's not used to getting this kind of lip from people he could absolutely smear into the pavement.

"Actually, I..." Lazarus eyes widen, then he pinches the bridge of his nose, cringing. "Oh, shit. My prescriptions. I forgot to refill my prescriptions. Uh..." he nudges the bucket toward the jock, who takes a jumpy step back. "Just clean this up, please. I have to make a phone call."

C- Drug Store, Evening

Lazarus avoids eye contact with the old lady in line to pick up her prescription.

"Heart medication," she says sweetly, turning to glance at him. "When you get older, everything just starts falling apart!"

"Yeah... I know," Lazarus answers. "I can see that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I didn't mean... just that I know it's hard getting older. I'm sorry."

There's a frosty silence for a few moments. "What are you here for, multivitamins? Those look like the jeans my granddaughter wears."

"...yeah, multivitamins."

Lazarus gets his seven different paper bags, dropping them in his basket and ignoring the way the old women watches his back as he walks away. He takes a turn down his favorite aisle; the assorted scents don't make a difference to him, but he takes a few of every color anyway, filling the rest of the basket with disinfectant spray and wipes. As he's putting the last can on the shelf into his basket though, he pauses, placing it carefully back. Lysol Disinfectant Spray, Spring Waterfall Scent. Not today, no room...

He glances up at the signs hanging above the aisles, labeling their content. Isn't there room in his life, now? Taking a quick survey of who is around and who might be watching, he goes several aisles down, staring at a pink, orange, and purple array of boxes. Words are printed on them to evoke pleasure, ecstasy, the promise that they won't be noticed. He reaches for one, selecting it more or less randomly, shoving it into his basket along with the many bottles of Lysol. As an afterthought, he reaches for a bottle of lube, debating whether or not to pocket it or put it back, but feeling strongly that it's a decision he needs to make quickly before anyone sees him.

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