Lost Sock laundry's second O has the top lights flickering out so somewhere between Sock and Suck is always achieved.
THe laundromat is empty for the most part, other than the 'Leave and Launder' machines which are at current manned by one fluffy headed blonde. Without anyone in the laundromat she's happy to wear her tunic length strappy tank top without a shawl over it; exposing to the eyes of the lost downy shoulders in soft two=toned patterns that lead back to the scallops of her shoulder blades and wherein two rough crescent shaped scars reside, muscle deep where her wings were cut away. On her lower half, she wears layers of light linen tiered skirts that float and sway around the sandal-footed Lasiocampidae is swaying to the music that's playing.
She sings with it too: "I miss prosthesis and mended souls, Trample over beauty while singing their thoughts, I match them with my euphoria, When they said, "je suis plus folle que toi", But I'm actually good, can't help it if we're tilted, I'm actually good, Can't help it if we....
((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9RBzsjga73s))
The front door of the shop opens, admitting Lucky and Sid. Sid is dressed in something more akin to what he would normally wear, this time sans cowboy hat. Someone must be feeling awfully daring. Lucky's got a bag over his shoulder, looking quite full of laundry-like things. "I don't care what you say," Lucky tells Sid. "I am not washing my underwear at the wayhouse. That place is crazy. I might catch something. And my balls are the -last- thing I want cursed."
Spotting the moth-woman, he moves over, lifting the lid on one of the machines and sort of just haphazardly dumping some of the contents inside. "Sup, Lulu?" The smile offered is bright, all teeth, though it manages to look just the tiniest bit creepy. The elf -always- looks a little creepy, even when he's not trying to be. Something about the proportions there are just subtly -off-. "So, like... if I want to get blood, chocolate sauce, mud, and... uh..." He holds up a shirt, covered in some kind of slimy green stain that probably doesn't exactly come from this world, and in the mortal world probably looks like something quite a bit different, "This, all in one load? What would be the way to do that?"
Sometimes, you need an expert in these matters.
Sometimes a raggamuffin needs to do some laundry, and where else better than a place he can probably pocket a few extra quarters on the way out. When he quietly slinks his way into the building he flinches some at the brightness of the overhead lightbulbs humming ferociously at him. The squints are blinked off eventually and the Darkling manages to spot the Moth, which brings an instant scowl and frown, and her elfin friend which brings a look of consternation and pause. He's got a sack under one arm and is quickly hustling to a machine to drop his shit in along with the soap and some quarters. That done, his attention focuses on Lulu and Lucky, slowly a smirk appears and the Spring bounces right on up to Mothy to give her a quick hug, "Oh it's so good to se eyou again," is he being facetious? Maybe. Attention wanders to Lucky and he offers the elf a lopsided smile, "Greetin's and hallucinations," he offers before glancing at the stains, "Fire." is his suggestion.
Cian did that.
Lulu looks up and brightens, almost literally, the luminous little moth bounces about somewhat in time to the beat, "Well if it isn't my favorite Twilight couple. Hello, hello and do you need quarters?" And then she's being asked of laundry and listens to the laundry list of laundry mishaps that Sid is attempting to wipe from memory, "Burn it, it's the only..." She's quieter than Cian and so his response makes her snort in amusement. She hadn't even noticed him, not even when he was right up on her. Poor Bug. "Oh hello, I see you got your pants back." She greets Cian but is far more ..slippery than people give her credit for. The Spring now covered in fine iridescent dust, like someone's dusting a giant fingerprint and she's fluttering away over to Sid with airy aplomb. "Or I can give you some of the industrial stuff hotels use. But it might make the fabric a bit stiff and you'll definitely have some chaffing. But then you could have someone rub some nice soothing cream on them so I mean, could be a win-win. If you're trying to win the hard way."
She seems unperturbed by the fact Cian had just attempted to glom onto her and more interested in fluttering around the machine where Lucky's trying to get his stains out. "Have you met Cian? He's a Spring." She says in a stage whisper and a conspiratorially faux expression.
Lucky listens to the woman as she presents his varioius options, though the fact that she, too, starts with fire has him raising an eyebrow. "Uh... well, I mean, I -could-, I guess. But man, I really like that shirt." He's starting to reach for it, but then Lulu offers the alternative: hotel laundry detergent that may induce chafing and require someone's tender touch with something soothing. Lucky perks right up at that one, eyes brightening as he glances over his shoulder at the Satyr that followed him in, but too engrossed in a youtube video of some rally to really be paying attention at the moment. Or maybe he is, and that's just a clever ploy. "We'll take that one," Lucky volunteers easily. "And Lulu? You're the best."
As the blonde man makes his way up to Lulu, getting powder all over himself, Lucky takes a moment to look him over. "You sure that he's Spring?" he teases the woman. "It's been almost thirty seconds and he still has all his clothes on. Must be a newbie." Though he does give the darkling an upnod, the smile forming there giving him away. "Nice to meetcha man. I'm Lucky." He even goes so far as to offer a hand... though he keeps his distant. Moth-dust is even more of a bitch to get out than hedgebeast blood.
Cian's fingers are faster than his mouth, and while he's talking to Lucky and Lulu, those fingers slip right in between the loose tanktop and those flowy skirts. If there was anything there to be stolen, it would have ended up in the Thief's hands. Instead he just gets a handful of something before she's dancing away and flitting over to the elfin one. "I got a few things back," he grumbles before beaming a smile again, because Springs are happy don'tcha know. One can tell where his hand went because it's coated in dust moreso than the rest of him, the fingers sort of flicking and dancing a bit to create motes of more mothdust. "If you really liked that shirt, you wouldn't have gotten shite all over it, no?" The practical Darkling intones before smirking at the mention of deeper detergents and an introduction. "Cian," he says and shakes Lucky's hand leaving it extremely dusty. Ewww Mothy butt-dust. Sorrynotsorry. "Nice to meet'cha."
Sid reached out to scoop up the moth in a hug. "I have not. And, really, Lucky she's got a point. With how much fabrication goes on there? I'm frankly surprised everyone's pants haven't caught on fire." It was never a bad evening running into their flighty frined. There was a wry, wry grin of amusement to Cian. "He's usually Lucky. Sid. Nice t'meet'choo, brah."
Lulu bobs her head to Cian as she's pulled into a hug. She's light, up is easy, in fact, it's practically like her weight wants to defy the gravity holding it but finally, succumbs though her feet land lightly on the tiled floor. "A few things are better than none." The strange moonlit effect with the shadows of swarms of fluttering moths had ended when she's drifted from Lucky to hug the Dusk 'ling, changing her motes of dust to burning ashen embers and then nothing.
"The best what?" She wonders as she heads back behind the counter to dig into 'the powerful stuff', it's the kind of stuff she's putting gloves on to dig into, half a scoop and she's moving back towards the washing machine. "He's right though, maybe one at a time if you like a shirt. Or, find a better shirt and designate this one you're 'Hard Work' shirt?" She holds the scoop over the bin's open mouth giving Lucky one last chance to reconsider.
"Cian was lucky Number seven if I remember correctly. Somehow I ended up with all of his clothing on me." She makes the adorable, whimsical 'ops' face that conveys absolutely no innocence whatsoever.
Sid .... gets all pissy murderfas Dusk on that connection bs
"Ah," Lucky says to Lulu at the mention of her taking all of Cian's clothes. "He's Spring, all right." As if that explains everything. "And hey, that shirt getting all smudged was -not- my fault. I was just taking a walk down by the river, and one of the..." He looks around, making sure they're alone, but lowers his voice anyway. "One of the doors under the damn thing opened and a thing tried to eat me. I mean, it -tried-. It didn't get very far. It was just a wee little thing, and I carry very large knives. Sadly, things got messy."
He nods to the woman's scoop of the whatever-it-is, consenting. "Sid," he says to the Satyr, "if everything melts, can I borrow your credit card?" It's not like he didn't -just- volunteer the satyr for something else, too. "I promise I'll... do my best to bring it back in one piece?" Words carefully chosen, there, because this week has been a strange one.
And then, over to Cian, "You new in town? Or just new to me?" Not that he seems to mind very much either way. Lucky hops up on one of the washers, getting comfortable as they all chat.
Cian watches the moth get scooped and smirks just a hint at Sid and then back to Lucky, "Only usually?" he asks before giving Sid a nod of greeting. Lulu's mentioning the stolen clothing and he just beams like a high-lighter, "Was pretty lucky, no lie," there's mischief in his dark eyes, the glint though, it just never goes away, just changes origins. Giving Lucky a glance he grins a bit nihilistically, "You want your favorite shirt to be clean right?" He encourages and eggs the man on. Do eeeet. "New to you, been here a while, just...quiet," says the Whisperwisp and no one was surprised. "Glad to make new friends though, those are always useful.
The censored Satyr had no qualms about hopping up to a sit on one of the dryers. He was grinning ear to ear though, Satyr Mantlekiller was amused. "Hey, winding up in teh morning wearing someone else's clothes is what I call a good date. Summon a biscuit, brahbrahbrahbrahbrah! Why was this not on the card?" What card was not elaborated on, though it was plain and clear that he was censoring himself or cursed in his own right. One thing was for certain he was either terrible or brillient at swearing.
The Dusk Satyr slooooowly eyed Lucky and arched an eyebrow, "Oh no. You can't... /have/ my credit card. It will be frozen in jello and hidden artfully and only, ONLY, after solving every clue and ordering something from teh CHinese place what won't melt my face from 80 paces? Then. Then you may use my card." Finally he turned to Cian and said relenting, "A'ight fine it's sort of the benchmartk start to anything able to be considered a successful evening. That aside? Don't bother trying to get that shirt clean. He'll only ruin it again."
It's a strange hour to be in the midst of doing laundry at the LandryMat, but there are people here. A lovely blonde moth is currently flitting from the laundry she just started, the washing mashine's mouth open wide to accept Lucky's sacrificial shirt. The phone rings and distracts the ditzy one, leaving Cian facing both Sid and Lucky who've both taken up perches on a dryer each. "Losin' clothing is a benchmark for a good evenin? Well I suppose I could get on board with that. But if magic can be made at dat shirt, I believe in Lulu," the blonde man flahes a toothsome smile and reaches into his pocket to fiddle with something. Always moving those fingers. Even as he wanders by someone's left laundry, it's all too easy for him to just thief a few small things; socks and panties mostly. But at least they're clean. Freakin kelptos.
Sadly, for the fidgety man, things might start to get a tiny bit... uncomfotable. It seems that, a few feet out from him, Cian's mantle is starting to have something of an identity crisis. On the side nearest to where Lucky sits on one of the washers, it's taken on a whole new kind of life, twisting and transforming in various ways, reflecting possibilities that weren't there before. Nearest to the Satyr, it seems... lessened, somehow. Hollow in some places, missing some of the verdant nature of spring. And in the space between the two others? There's a small war being waged. In some places, it disappears entirely, only for the void to be swallowed back up by an explosion of possibilities, battered quickly back down to dust. Lucky watches as Lulu goes to grab the phone, smiling over to Sid. "I hear your conditions, and accept, on the condition that the card be frozen into the jello in such a way that the jello can still be eaten or used for other purposes later. And not a gross flavor."
Do doors to laundromats have little bells? If they do, these ones have been triggered: in glides 5'6" of Mortal Glamour with a messy top knot, dressed in trendily torn boyfriend jeans and a black t-shirt that says: 'I Would Prefer Not To'. And by all appearances? Franklyn looks like she's definitely prefer to be doing anything but this -- hauling a big Ikea bag of laundry over her shoulder, with big sunglasses hiding her eyes but doing nothing to shield that total RBF she's got going on. Grumpy, sulky, huffy and yet still vain enough to wear designer sunglasses on laundry day. Glamour. All glamour.
The silver n' gold charms on her bracelets rattle a Franklyn struggles to reach for her wallet in her back pocket, muttering under her breath as she tries to orientate herself amongst the machines and past the Wyrd patrons. "...Fuckin' bullshit, know I had a meeting; stupid fucking Uber, last time I... Who let's their stupid kids drink frappichinos? Fucking backwater, maple syrup chuggin'..." The muttering continues as she Huffy Walks across the Laudromat, oblivious to the warring Mantles. And like, the people she could recognise. Ass.
Sid looked to Lucky and seemed to be negotiating from his perch on the dryer. "Seen and accepted. Lime? I like limes. Though I cannot promise the condition OF the jello. THat's... pretty subjective." He also didn't say how much jello. Ass! His eyes drift off the beleagered launderers to Franky, lopsided grin going wide. "Awww Franky, how can you be like that? Who doesn't want edible clothes. If you don't add more syrup can I rec' cinnamon?? It'll make you feel better."
Lulu chtters into the phone and looks through slips, talking to someone bout something and then ticking off items on list as she bumbles around behind the counter. Drifting a direction until the phone chord angles her away or she bounces off something with a little puff of chimerical dust. Unseen other than a tickle to the senses as she coos in cheerful tones that she assures, there was no mix up in deliveries, so that neglige couldn't possibly have been from another persons order. She did them herself you see? All the while, above them, the oddest selection of music passes by, from the French pop and into a Bluegrass cover of Nirvana song.
Cian is watching his Mantle fizzle and pop to life in between the Satyr and the Elf for a moment before his distraction wears off and he's suddenly remembering why he was here. Why was he here? The Moth bumps into something and the thief's eyes flash over to her and narrow some. Her fault probably. But there's a Franky, someone he doesn't know, who's yelling and bitching about food and clothing and he just tilts his head, "One would imagine it's because of masochism and poor decision making. I think that's also why people own cats," he says with a frown to his features before he ventures a look at the pair on dryers and back again. The music change is lovely and the man starts sweeping around, letting his fingers wander while he tries to regain the thought thread that led him here. Don't mind the wandering hands, much.
-> >> Franklyn to Here << <-==========================================
Rolled 0 Success
< 1 3 >
===========================-> >> Wits + Composure - 3 No Flags << <-
Lucky looks like he's about to ask something else, when the little bell to the place rings, acknowledging that People are here. People who may not need to hear some of the things that they would talk about should People -not- be here. Which shuts him up right quickly. Until, of course, the Person in question passes by, grumbling to herself about children and frappucino. "Hey," he says, adding himself to her not-so-inner monologue, "if it were up to me, children would need leash laws, and parents would be required to have a license before owning one. Like a gun. Only, you know. Messier." There is no force of destruction on the planet that can quite match teh savagery of a toddler on a sugar rush.
Franklyn looks momentarily embarrassed as Sid clocks her - but it doesn't last long, as vague recollection mingles with exasperation, and she throws - well, carelessly let's fall-with-a-thunk - the ikea bag of dirty socks and coffee stained shirts to the ground. "I already had a cinnamon bun to fix things, and now I'm over my daily quota." Funny how that petulance gives Frank the tone of a kid who's had one too many frappichio's and ended up with a sugar crash. Irony.
And oh, how her own melodrama and sunglasses keeps Frank distracted - rubbing her face with both hands, while Cian happens to pass her by and, and... What does she sense? Nothing. Only some dude going from point A-to-B who gets a brief look, then Frank's attention pops to Lucky. "Oh man, I don't care what they do with them so long as I'm not involved - all I want is like, to sleep? And also like, to have a good day? Where my laundry is picked up? God, I just want..." She stops and looks around, brow knit with confusion. Lulu and Cian are overlooked in favour of Sid and Lucky, who are relentlessly questioned: "Oh, hi by the way. Nice to see you guys again. Uhm, like, does this place to full service wash, or?..."
GAME: Sid spends 1 Willpower with reason: because...too...good...not to answer...
-> >> Sid to Here << <-===============================================
Rolled 1 Success
< 1 3 6 6 10 >
=====================-> >> Composure + Subterfuge + 3 No Flags << <-
Lulu is still carefully nit picking over laundry on the phone. Chattering away as she drifts back and forth and the poor souls lost in this Lost Sock laundry are compelled to interact like some artsy film. The light above the door flickers a few time sending off staccato sound of feedback for a moment before it returns to life. Outside the world is mostly dark, the mjority of the little city in Vermont prepping for bed.
Sid looked entirely sympathetic to Lucky shaking his head and pointed to Cian. "Yeah he'll take care of it. They totally do. Just tip em and all's good." He nodded sagely and spun half to follow his newest entertainment which was a fellow trainwreck and man he was just a happy little camper. Why wouldn't he as all was well. There was a pause at Lucky's bitter montage about how children should be outlawed. Shit he smooched the top of the Elf's head for that one. "This guy.... grew up way too fast. So, before I get bored as soap doing chores all night, we got anyhting left on teh card or we got a new dare goin?"
Cian isn't fidgeting any more, for whatever reason, he's got his fingers in his pockets rolling around like he's got some kind of fidget toy hidden in there. Where he ends up is sort of near the Moth, which means his hands come away dusty again. Always moving, always touching, always stealing. That is forever the lot in life for this Lurker. When attention is paid to him again, he blinks slowly at Sid, "I do wha?" and then he's getting it and suddenly flashing a bright smile at Franky, "I do. Sure, uhh just leave yer crap right there, and I'll get to it," he intones and then glances at the rest of the woman's clothing, "Sure those couldn't use a wash too?" He's not even really sly about it, but the easy charm that he uses is infectious and it might almost work.
Lulu can't admonish what she cannot hear. No Sir Ma'am. I mean, clearly, she can't her anything or warn anyone that Cian does not work here, or that Sid nd Lucky might just be the devils own. She's in her own little world despite how she, intercepted by Cian and dancing with him for a moment before she moves around him leaving his fingerprints well dusted so she can get to her bag and pull out the card and hand it to Cian before he heads to go collect clothing and pointing at Sid and Lucky, indicating the cards destination.
Lucky manages to at least pay halfway attention to the other people in the room, occasionally looking over to Cian to see what the stranger is doing. Not because he looks particularly suspicious, but because Cian is the new face in the room, and Lucky's still trying to place him. When Sid volunteers Cian to do the woman's clothes, and Cian agrees? And Lulu says nothing? The totally-not-an-elf gets a little gleam in his eyes. Like someone totally just started a fun game, and he's well-versed in it. Looking over to Sid, he says, "I don't think that one's on the card. But it could be. Or," he adds, "we could make a new one. I'm game for either." And then, back to Franky, he says, "I dunno. Sometimes it can be pretty fun to kind of mess with the parents," he muses. "Like, give the kids one of those Five Hour Energy things and an espresso milkshake."
Franklyn snorts quietly, but the general freeform ire settles down a bit as she listens to Sid and Lucky, "What does that like, even mean? Growing up too fast?" Not -quite- accusatory, but Franky is riding the border of snarky and wax-philosophical. Out from the Ikea bag comes and oversized purse, which she starts digging through - pulling out a packet of gum, while looking 'tween Sid and Lucky, "...Dare? You're playing truth or dare?" Soo presumptuous and chiding, but the snarky tone takes a rapid u-turn as she inquires, "What are the stakes?"
Then Cian is speaking to her, and Lulu isn't there to save her from a great swindle. Why, Lulu, why? Franklyn isn't, at least, entirely defenceless. She's picked up on Cian's fidgeting, which gets a wrinkles nose of distain. "Yeah, like I'm going to let some dude who's inches away from being a public pocket masturbates near my 'crap', as you say." Head tiled, Franklyn rolls eyes and sticks out her tongue, then looks at Lucky with a brow spocked upwards. "...Dude. I think that's like, technically considered poisoning." Doesn't keep her from nearly mean-smiling in spite of herself, though. What the hell kind of laundromat did she walk into? "They could -literally- die."
Cian has already pulled his hands back without something but Lulu's handing him in a card, and after fancy dance, he's happy to inspect the thing. "Hey, that's me," he seems surprised to see his signature on the thing and he looks at Lucky and Sid carefully. "You two the madminds behind this? I want in. Already got one of these at least," he grins a bit toothily before marching the card over like a good errand boy, not that he doesn't contemplate just keeping it. He did keep the pen Lulu was using at the counter to write things down, it's now tucked behind his ear as he presents the aforementioned card to the boys on the dryer. "This's yers," he says before turning around to face the sassy wrath of Franky and he just laughs, "Dude, you gotta be sensitive to people with invisible issues," he extoles on virtue even as he digs in his pocket and pulls out a fidget cube, one of those proper toy things with the six faces and many interactions, "See? ADHD and shit," he shrugs, before looking back at them, "Yeah, are there stakes?" he's already mozying over to gather up Franky's bag and dump it into a rolling hamper. Like he's sorting it, and not just hiding her stolen wallet and its contents among the things. Sad for nudie photos.
Sid could seriously harvest glamour off that salt aaaaaall day yo. Franky you are appreciated dearly, don't change. The skater was just grinning ear to ear, "We could be, talkin truth or dare. Usually it jsut descends into dares and hospital visits. Then it's just free jello." He squint at Lucky and pointed out "Without my credit card in it." There was a story there. To Lulu he asked simply, "Lulubelle, we got a list goin? Can we start a list? And is Abuela back? I promised myself to promise her cookies next I saw her."
"Oh please like we can't all just die because we turned left when we should go right. Embrace it. I mean what's following the rules got you thus far?" Retorts Lulu and startles at the phone. Did she forget she was on the phone? Yes. She startles and says back into the phone, "No not you, Ms. Callhoun. No, I'm sorry. Yes yes, I'm fine. Just the regulars. But anyway, you be sure to have that talk with your husband. Mmhm.." She drifts back over, "Buh-bye." She croons before hanging up the receiver and busying herself a few more moments with switching out laundry. "A list, going, no I don't think so but you're welcome to dd whatever you like to it. I can only imagine the look on the ice cream girls face when I show her that she's inspired such frivolity." Frivolity. She finishes changing out laundry and flutters back to the counter to just watch the chaos that's descending on poor Franky's life. To Sid's question she looks confused, "Who?"
Oh my. People are asking Lucky about the stakes of a game. The man's eyes widen like someone just told him he was getting a gold-plated pony for Christmas. "Anything, really," he tells those inquiring as to what the stakes are. "Whatever you're willing to wager. The more you put in the pot, the more rewarding the win. But we can start with something small, if you want. Or just go all in, and say 'fuck it'. You only live once, right?" And then, nodding to Lulu's assertion, he says, "Rules were made to be broken. And besides," he says, in reference to possible poisonings, "I've never heard of a kid dying from an espresso overdose. The side-effects, maybe, but not the espresso itself." Darwinism is still a thing, after all. "So. Who's in? And what are we starting with?" A glance to Sid, then, to see if he's got any suggestions.
Franklyn gives Cian a good ol' dose of sneering disapproval; but joke's on her, because Cian's pulled the figurative ADHD card out with the fidget spinner n' explanation, and she's left trying to play it cool. Step one: allow the stranger to pick up the bag of dirty laundry. Step two: let them start sorting through the thrift store gems and designer threads like work would set them free. Let's her stall for time, oblivious to the theft cover-up. "Like, it still looks shifty though?" Horrible comeback. She tries the sympathetic route, "God, sorry - like, ugh I've just had a long day, I didn't mean..." To be a bitch.
That part is left unsaid, as Franky laughs at Sid's words. "Hey, a person can get used to hospital pudding so long as there's enough xanax to go around, right? Pudding and jello becomes like, a -currency-." Said with authority, but she may be frontin' to make up for her earlier faux pas. Lulu gets a sympathetic nod and a huffy sigh in agreement, "Isn't that the truth? One slip, one spark - poof: death. Like, I lead a charmed life, totally hashtag blessed for /real/ - but fuck if I don't still look both ways when crossing the street." Which leads Franklyn to give Lucky a wary appraisal. "Touche." To what? Everything he said, apparently -- and while she doesn't offer herself up as sacrificial dare-lamb, she doesn't balk away either. Just listens to this rag-tag bunch of loonies.
Cian isn't hating Franky's sass either, the Glamour Addict is just all about the emotions of anyone who'll throw them at him. "Long as truth or dare doesn't involve jello, I'm in," he shrugs, apparently a nasty taste in his mouth as he's making the kid drank dad's beer face. He's sorting, almost anally so, literally Franky's clothes end up in an array not unlike a rainbow as far as color distinctions go. Then separated into another two layers of heavies and lights. What is this man doing, has he never actually done laundry? Lulu should save him soon, but it's too late. Into two washers and he's dropping quarters that never really clink into the bottom for some reason. "Well if yer makin rules for truth or dare and they're made to be broken...I don't much see the point in playing," he admits before giving Franky a nod. She seems forgiven for the most part, bless her heart. But she's also willing to play along, so the Darkling just grins toothily and finishes locking the doors to send the contents of Franky's wallet and pockets spinning in the wash. Lalala, look lights! He's distracted again and making another round through the place, which includes spinning Lulu about in a dance move and briefly perching on the dryers with Lucky and Sid. Check yer pockets!
-> >> Sid to Here << <-===============================================
Rolled 2 Successes
< 7 7 8 8 >
===========================-> >> Wits + Composure - 1 No Flags << <-
Sid Had his hand in the air with three fingers extended looking around the room. "A'ight the rules go like this. Anyhting that happens between us stays between us, and the rules of consent, obviously apply. Cian, there's THEIR rules...and then there's our rules. It was when Cian's hand found his piocket he driely said "Look left pal. I promise you there's a roll of quarters there." Sid was a hard person to phase really. He pulled his wallet out of his other pucket and tucked a $5 in to Cian's shirt giving the Spring a wink. Then he dug out a small piece of paper from inside. "The idea was to start small, and then go up from there. Just sayin last time we did this where I used to live it ended up with putting lingere on teh statue in front of the public library. Creative we can do, but at the same time, hurting anyone is frowned upon. We're here to have a good time." He looked to Lucky and nodded to him.
-> >> Franklyn to Here << <-==========================================
Rolled 1 Success
< 1 6 10 >
===========================-> >> Wits + Composure - 3 No Flags << <-
-> >> Franklyn to Here << <-==========================================
Rolled 0 Success
< 5 >
===========================-> >> Wits + Composure - 4 No Flags << <-
-> >> Lucky to Here << <-=============================================
Rolled 1 Success
< 1 2 3 3 4 6 6 8 >
================================-> >> Wits + Composure 8-Again << <-
Who here feeds off of poorly repressed embarrassment? Because that's what's rolling off of Franklyn as Cian starts his ADHD-logic sorting of her dirty laundry. Sure, there's some coffee-stained yet work appropriate dresses and whatever, but there is a significant number of lacy frilly things piling up there in the 'lights' section. Worse yet, she's trying not to tell the poor man how to do his - winknudge - 'job', while cringing to ensure the machine's set to delicates. So. Many. Conflicting. Feelings.
Then they settle into gut-dropping dread as she spies something behind the washer door. Franky's hand hits the back pocket of her jeans with an audible 'slap!'. There's her wallet. No, -there's- her wallet: spinning in suds for the next hour or whatever.
"Fuck!" Listen to that -despair- in her voice: the hopelessness of it all, with sadness n' longing n' anger peppered on through. Franklyn is overly expressive. Blame stage school. "I had half a gram left in--" Further embarrassment, she groans and scrunches her eyes shut, sulking in her own mean interior world. The salt must flow. "I can't play, my luck has like, totally run out. Fuck this, fuck that, fuck me, right? Ugh, I need a cig..."
And lo, Franklyn huff-puff-sulk-stomps with her bag, towards the smoke-OK zone of just outside. She'll probably be back. After half a pack.
|
