savetheearth | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Whether Emi's arrival was a perfect thing or the precise opposite of that depended on who one chose to ask. Lazarus is quietly grateful when he spots her out of the corner of his eye, and though he thinks he can handle them on his own, he really does have to make that phone call, and quickly.

"Wait, you're that guy..." the coffee-spiller says uncertainly. "You lose your shit at customers."

"Yeah, I'm that guy," Lazarus confirms. "I don't want trouble, I just want you to clean up your mess."

The jock leans the broom handle against the table. "You know, I heard you were a lot bigger. I think I could take you," he admits. "Wanna take this outside, champ?"

"Honestly, you made a spectacularly poor choice of a target." Emi could easily match the bravado of these guys, and had in fact been a bully herself when she was younger. Funny how turning into a bloodsucking monster made her a better person.

The vampire's wings were extended fully, of course, and her eyes were glowing a dull red.

Initially, the football players appear pretty unconcerned with Emi once she calls notice to herself, actually finding her bravado amusing. "You don't say? Hey, aren't you on the cheerleading squad?" one of them ribs. Their mirth dissipates quickly the second they see her wings and her illuminated eyes, however.

"Shit! She's one of them! I told you they clump together like rats!"

She wasn't going to actually use it at first, but she is considering summoning Gungnir. She's already got two huge advantages, her strength and her speed. "The only vermin here are you," the Romanian replied.

"Now, I suggest cleaning that up before you're made to do it."

L appears guarded without actually being concerned. He's probably physically the weakest in this particular situation, but he's seen Emi in action, and knows very well that she can back up her threats. That being said, it won't look good if a Numbered individual savages four highschool footballers in his coffee shop.

"Or what?" sneers the biggest one, though two of the others don't seem so sure they want to challenge a vampire.

"Emi, it's not worth it," L murmurs.

Emilia is giving them an almost bored look. Though, inside, she was laughing - they thought they could challenge her? The idea was entirely ludicrous, given the opponents she's faced.

"I'll make you lick it up, of course." Sorry L, but she's basically giving them a hint of how strong she was by nonchalantly placing a hand on the back of a chair... then crushing the metal like paper.

The jocks all given a condescending "Ooooooooh" at her threat, but their smiles fade fast at the way she crushes the chair. L winces and cringes; he hadn't been hoping for the situation to escalate, but it seems like it's going that way.

"I don't care what kind of freak powers you have," the apparent leader says, regaining his composure and posturing by cracking his neck. "Don't you people have enough problems with the press?"

L's silent, but if Emi glances at him, she'll see a clear answer in his dark eyes: yes, we do. It would be better to settle this nonviolently.

She looks the them all in the eyes, using her mesmerising ability. If this works, they should all be compelled to obey her. Thanks to a recent echo they shouldn't be able to remember being under her power. L wanted this solved nonviolently? Well, there you go.

"You really should listen to people for once," she said, her accent clear.

They're not wizards, witches or sorcerers, and they're definitely not vampires. Even if they were, it probably wouldn't matter; they're just a group of athletes with average intelligence and willpower, and it doesn't take much for them to fall completely under the spell of Emi's ability. It looks like everyone will probably be happy with the result of this, even the admittedly somewhat idealistic Lazarus.

"We're listening," two of the guys reply in unison; the others merely nod their acquiescence.

"Good... Clean up your mess and get out, and never come back."

Well, it worked easier than she expected, though her will is definitely stronger than the average person's. Maybe some people might have issues with her mind control, but it didn't look like Lazarus did from what she could tell by looking at him.

Whatever Lazarus feels about it is well-concealed; he looks on, expressionless, as the biggest football player takes the mop and begins cleaning up, while the others gather their things as if in a trance.

"Emi..."

Lazarus brushes her arm with his fingertips.

"How long does that last? Will any lasting harm come to them as a result of what you're doing?"

Well, they were gone either way. She could have easily crushed them bare handed, but didn't.

"As long as I will it... But they will have the 'suggestion' not to come back, I think. I don't think there'd be any lasting harm, though..."

The fact that she didn't crush them and bring more trouble to the patchy reputation of Espresso Yourself is one that L notices, and is grateful for. It could have gone so much worse.

"I'm glad," he says softly, still seeming slightly troubled by the way her will has utterly dominated that of four human beings.

"...can you do that to anyone, Emi?"

"I haven't tried it on any Numbered, actually... It probably wouldn't even work." It was tempting to quite literally throw them out, and it would have been satisfying. But hell, so was going this route.

"You should try it, just to know what you're capable of," he urges. "I mean... ask permission, obviously, but you should have an idea of the limitations of your powers."

It's what he would do, after all.

"There's only one guy who'd trust me enough to let me try... My boyfriend." She was pretty sure she'd be turned down by most anyone else.

"So wouldn't one person be enough?" he asks, surprised she hasn't yet tried it with someone he believes it's implied would consent. Even if she wouldn't make him do something as demeaning as mopping up a floor, it would be worth knowing, wouldn't it?

It doesn't seem to occur to him that asking might broach boundaries or trust; he simply doesn't think about these things the same way as most individuals would.

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

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