undergrounds | ( open ) bad news like a suckerpunch

Entry tags:

( open ) bad news like a suckerpunch

A. JUSTICE LAW OFFICES

Maybe you dropped by because you know of the lawyer in charge, you have a question about school, you're lost and looking for directions, the possibilities are endless.

It's early morning and no one seems to be in the front lobby at the moment, even if the door's unlocked. But a door off to the left is open, someone coughing their lungs out, but the sound is stopped short whenever the front door bell goes off.

Apollo is sick with a cold. Apparently sick enough for a futon to be laid out on his office floor (thanks to employees), so Apollo peaks around his office's entrance to see who it is. ...From the floor. This isn't an exactly normal picture.

"Can I help you?" He sounds like a frog.

B. GROCERY SHOPPING

Evening time, Apollo only has rare instances where he can actually show up at a store and get some much needed stocking done.

He's got the goods: food, hygeine, some house supplies and of course coffee. Tons of it, because he's currently buying about four tubs of it and dropping it into his cart.

C. MISC go wild. brackets are a-ok.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hey, Apollo!" Heiji shoved his head in the front door. He was carrying a small bunch of plastic grocery bags that crinkled in his hands. "Whatcha doin' on the floor? Heard you were feelin' a little under the weather, so I brought some food."

A pair of faces peeked in through the door under Heiji's; they seemed to belong to two little girls.

It was Heiji, the king of good timing.

But he spots the bags and his face lights up as much as the cold will allow, then noticing tiny girls and oh god it was them. It was the family members, of course looking cute, but also targets for a sickness he definitely didn't want to give them as a first impression.

... Can Heiji and his family even get sick?

"Did word spread that much already?" ... Oh yeah. "They helped me set up a futon in here. I haven't had any actual clients today." But he still had schoolwork to do and it made him stubborn enough to show up to work anyway.

RUDE. They could probably get mange or something, idek.

Heiji laughed. "You can't asking the long arm of the law! Or in this case, gossip. Can we come in, or are ya busy, um..."

...Doing whatever Apollo was doing. Possibly grading papers on the floor. That didn't sound too comfortable.

Apollo was just kind of laying there feeling sorry for himself, but that works too.

"Uh, sure. There's some sweets over there, with the cookie machine..." It was a test finding out what Sasuke and Stiles liked, and while Stiles ate some once in a while, Sasuke avoided it like the plague. As a result, there was plenty.

He stands up with some effort, and immediately wants to lay back down again. Never mind that.

"I didn't think I was popular enough to be the talk of the town." So dry.

The two young girls squeezed past Heiji and into the law office. Did you think there were only two, Apollo? Nope. There were two more after them, and they were all dressed in brightly-colored yukata of different colors. Each was carrying something -- one a melon, another a thermos.

"This is Sakura, Tsubaki, Kiku, and Ume," said Heiji, trying to keep up with them as they muscled their way inside. He followed along afterwards and shut the door behind him ~~so that no one would hear the screams~~. "Cookie machine...? You got a machine that makes cookies?"

Immediately, all four of them clustered around the sweets. They came forward with handfuls of them so they could hover over Apollo. "Wow, you've got so many of them!"

"Are they for your kids?"

"Are you loaded? Lawyers on TV are always loaded."

Sadly, the melon and thermos appeared to be forgotten on Apollo's desk. The other two bundles were left on the couch; Heiji picked them up with a long-suffering look. "You get that minifridge workin' yet? I can put some stuff in there..."

"Uh. Hey there Sakura, Tsubaki, Kiku, Ume—" Yeah they weren't listening. They were already going for the cookies.

"Uh, yeah. Fridge is right next to the... cookies..." He points dumbly, feeling way too cotton headed for this. And he's got the feeling this isn't even all of Heiji's cousins.

"And I'm not loaded! Please don't take more than anyone else." 'Please' is added out of politeness, but he probably comes off strict anyway. At least he tried.

Heiji put away the perishables, moving aside a sandwich on the shelf that looked slightly moldy. "Hey! You guys behave, don't take all the -- that's way too much candy, you drop those right now!"

Suddenly instead of four little girls, there were four little red fox kits clustered around Apollo. The candies dropped to the floor in a little rain of sweets. Soon they were wandering around everywhere; one walked up onto Apollo's comforter and nosed curiously at him.

This was a disaster. But at least they weren't pestering Apollo with questions? So Heiji removed a cup of soup from his bag, and a spoon, and held both out for Apollo to take. "Here ya go. You like chicken noodle, right?"

Oh.

The dude dumping enough coffee to keep the entirety of Sweden awake is her teacher. Magra makes a face when she realises and lowers her phone before she could sneakily take his picture to have shown her friends later. It's always so weird to see a teacher out of their natural habitat. "Mr. Apollo? Is that you?"

Nearby, Clara is trying to take out some of the things from Magra's cart that's mostly full of what you expect a girl her age to have: Chocolate, sweets, instant noodles, chips, and other unhealthy things that make up the average student's diet.

"Mr. Justice," Apollo corrects instinctively. He was used to students calling him by his first name based on appearance alone, and maybe Justice wasn't exactly a normal na—

Wait, at the grocery store?

He turns his head around to Magra, dressed up in a stylish look of regular jeans and a hoodie before the recognition shows up on his face. Oh, yeah! Meeting kids out of class sometimes! It totally happens!

"—Magra," Apollo answers dumbly. Yes, it was definitely him, until he clears his throat and straightens up. "Getting some groceries too?"

He notices Clara, getting to see her since most don't, currently inspecting her granddaughter's haul. Well, someone had to do it.

Magra, looking like she was a living lit lava lamp thanks to the bright neon of her clothes' colours, smiles awkwardly and gives a wave with the hand that held her cellphone. "Hahaha... Yeah. Been meaning to do it lately and only got around to it now thanks to, ahh, stuff. Yeah. Stuff."

Noticing that he's noticing something behind her, the girl looks around to see what it is and frowns.

Clara freezes up at that point, the oversized bag of chips no longer rustling and looking with Apollo with some alarm. She only relaxes (with some disappointment) to hear her granddaughter's next words: "I know, I know! Not exactly the healthiest stuff but hey! A student's gotta eat. I'm kinda trying to match my shopping with my clouds today, Mr. Apollo. The rainbow."

"It looks like greens could use a bit more notice here," Clara observes with a bit of a deadpan finality to her tone. "Both of you, I think. You don't want to have irate bowel movements you two!"

Clara PLEASE DON'T START.

"Mr. Justi—... nevermind." But he looks at Clara, getting on her wavelength, and pointedly ignores what he just heard.

But fine, he'll work along. "Students do have to eat. You should probably learn a few simple dishes, don't you think?"

He reaches into his own cart and sorts out the stuff that he could live without: some pre cut chicken, a bag of rice, with herbs and seasoning. He drops them into Magra's arms, fishing out his wallet next and pulling out the money he's pretty sure would cover the cost before slapping that on top of the rice bag.

"You should be able to make a good rice pilaf with that, and all you have to do with the chicken is put it in the oven and season it. The pilaf recipe is on the bag."

Edited 2015-07-16 02:42 (UTC)

Look Clara right in the eye and tell her that it isn't the truth, Apollo.

Meanwhile Magra blinks in surprise when he just hands her a meal in the making because while she can totally cook on her own, things that aren't ramen and stuff, it isn't every day this sort of thing happens. She looks kind of uncomfortable at the sudden kind gesture of poultry meals.

"This is really nice of you to do Mr. Apollo but-- Um. Time out for a quickie." Just give her a second or three to have her put the items precariously on some bags of Jelly Babies and a few boxes of Jaffa Cakes. Clara is left staring at the slightly swaying pile tower with worry, hovering close to see if she can prevent it from falling while Magar spoke. "Super cool for you to do but I don't wanna be any trouble or make you feel like you have to help me out. You already did that with... Um, you know."

What happened last month when she got kidnapped by vampires. She winces at the memory and rubs the side of her neck out of phantom pain. She tries to smile, waving her hand as if to shake off the bad vibes off her person. "Besides! You're gonna need to replenish your chicken stuff and what happens if it means you go over budget? You might need to part with some of your coffee over there and that would be di-sas-trous."

"I think you can live without a tub," Clara remarks with a bit more cheer (but with the same amount of worry) in her voice as she keeps the leaning tower of calories from falling down. "Maybe. And that's a smart choice, Apollo! Magra's been meaning to eat more lean meat along with her greens. Takes up too much of her grandfather at times, I swear."

... Ah, yeah. The vampire deal. Apollo never really got the full details and didn't bother asking for them, because vampire work was shady business and Heiji wasn't too keen on sharing in the first place.

"Just take it," Apollo answers simply. "Don't worry about my budget. I work way too much to not be financially comfortable. Besides... if you're eating like you should, you're definitely not proving it." Apollo points to literally EVERYTHING ELSE IN HER CART.

"Just try it out." He tired expression turns into a grin instead, already mastering the art of putting up a front. "Besides! I grew up cooking by myself, so. I have really good tastes. Coffee included."

Magra never made much mention of it after she was brought back to the school and had the Mr. Morgan there check her out for injuries. She kind of wants to keep it that way, frankly, and is happy to not discuss it if he doesn't bring it up. So she's totally happy to play up her mock offence at his implications that her eating is poor excuse you they are amazing what's wrong with ramen pizza hotdogs.

"Hey! My snack game is strong and I don't see why that's something to feel bad about." Still, she smiles a bit, relieved that she can joke like this and not feel too uncomfortable. "Guess I should up my coffee game though. Looks like you mastered that a loooong time ago."

"… Thanks though, Mr. Apollo." A pause. "I mean, Mr. Justice. I owe you one. Probably will keep Tommy from writing on the top of the board again, yeah?"

"Oh! Before I forget: Could I talk to you a bit about something later in the week? After class or something?" She can't help but feel like she's already intruding on his time with this and she would hate to make him miss out on the sale they had for his coffee brand today.

Clara looks a bit surprised to hear that from her granddaughter and she looks at Apollo, a bit confused. Does he know what this 'something' she's talking about is? She certainly doesn't.

A green jacketed arm pushes the door open, followed by two scuffed up leather boots. When Apollo finally gets a good view of Jackson's face, he's staring down at him, quizzically. Well, isn't someone comfy-- he's sorta jealous, Reid would never let him lounge around on the job like that.

Wait, wait... taking in the pallor of his skin, the irritated red of a cold-plagued nose. Oh gee, fantastic. He's sick.

Jackson takes a good step back, before addressing Apollo.

"I got some questions to ask you, about your neighbor-- three doors down, across the hallway," he says. "Work with me, and I'll keep this quick."

Edited 2015-07-15 00:34 (UTC)

The second Reid walks in, Apollo is (unattractively) blowing his nose. He stares, listens to what this man has to say, before he awkwardly leans over just enough to drop the tissue into the trash can.

... There's no way this man was a potential client by the sounds of it. A visit well wasted.

"Questions?" Wait. "Are you a detective?"

"Thankfully, no." A beat. "Forensics."

Jackson's taking it slow and easy with this business call, as he opens up his leather satchel and casually rifles through it like he doesn't have a murder to help solve. Eventually, he pulls something out-- a clear plastic zip-log bag that screams out EVIDENCEin red and yellow tape. Inside of the bag sits the crumpled up, saliva-stained, mucus-streaked remains of a business invoice in cardstock.

"Found this jammed halfway between our dead man's laryngopharynx and esophagus." Jackson lifts up the bag to read the invoice, though he already knows what it says. "Butler & Seymour, Travel Agency-- which, according to Reid's research, is located down the hall."

Jackson takes another step backwards, watching another tissue drop into the trashcan. Germs.

"Our body's neither Mr. Seymour nor Ms. Butler, but this invoice suggests that he was potentially in the vicinity of their business before bein' choked out." It was a good place to start looking, regardless. "Now, before I start forensicating, anything you can tell me about your neighbors down the hall?"

... Wow.

Apollo looks down the evidence and squints, and it visibly makes him a little nauseous as he stares at it. That was inside the body. He was used to gruesome details as a defense attorney who took on murder cases, but it was a different story actually looking at it in the face. This guy was made of iron.

He wonders why a forensics scientist is doing an investigator's work, but maybe he was just good in various fields? Alright then.

"I don't talk to them, they said hi to me a few times though." Apollo shrugs, then scratches the back of his head. "I only opened my office here months ago. They keep trying to pitch their business outside though. I see stands all the time."

A doctor who cannot stand the sight of blood and gore is as useful as an attorney who cannot argue. In other words, it comes with the territory. Nevermind, that it's only a piece of paper. The stomach-twisting, bloody stuff was back in his dead room.

"According to my examination, the poor fella died two days ago, between the hours of 10 PM and 4 AM in the morning. Were you here 'round that time?"

As to why the forensic pathologist is moonlighting as an investigator-- let's just say that the inspector of his division is a little unorthodox when it comes to his cases. He prefers to work with a handful of people. Add in austere budget cuts, and well, Jackson's finding himself useful in several respects.

"I notice the walls here are a might thin." He raps his knuckles against the fake wood. "You hear any arguing of late?"

One of the hardest things about moving to a new place was having to find new places to go. It took time to find new places to get money, gas, clothes and of course, food. Moving around a grocery store to find the bread, milk and pizza rolls you really needed could prove challenging in a new store.

Trying to do that blind added an extra layer of challenge. Snake pushed his cart slowly and frequently consulted a map of the store, running his fingers over it. If he was lucky, maybe he could get out here before the buses stopped running.

He did hear someone approaching him from behind so he moved his cart to the side. Memorizing the layout of a new store was one of the most frustrating things about moving.

Hello there, good sir. Your cart's looking a little empty and you're looking a little lost.

Apollo tilts his head a bit to look at this man, because it's a lot like what he looked like himself when he first arrived in London. Kind of confused and sticking out like a sore thumb.

He takes a brief second to decide on what to do, before he raises his hand a bit and speaks up.

"Sir, hey." Cool introduction. Totally cool!

"Are you looking for something?"

Well, no, technically he's not looking at anything because he's blind. Snake is mightily tempted to fire off a choice remark to the stranger's stating of the obvious. He tempers it to "I'm trying to determine what kinds of bread are in this row without picking up every loaf and sniffing it through the plastic." He prides himself on being able to memorize the location of everything in a store. Unfortunately that involves trial and error in the beginning.

"Management was kind enough to give me a map but it's not as specific as I'd like." He also won't know how much everything costs until he tries to pay for it. Trying to determine what's cheap and expensive in pounds is going to be another chore.

Apollo's apparently not picking up the hint.

"Is that right...? I like this brand, here." He points at a loaf and pulls it off the shelf, holding it out, since apparently this guy likes to sniff things. That's cool. You do you.

"It's cheap but good quality, especially for french toast. If I have the time to make it, anyway."

Could this person possibly not realize what Snake felt was obvious? He could easily solve that problem by staring at Apollo with his eyes open, but he'd been told by his sister that a lengthy dead-eyed snake stare even put her off.

So instead, he sighed, annoyed, and tried again. "Well, thank you, I suppose. However, this braille map isn't specific enough with what brands are where." Please tell me you're picking up what he's putting down, Apollo.

"What's a braille?" Is Apollo's first automatic response. It sounds familiar, and it reminds him of, well, bumps. Why is that? Oh yeah, it's a type of writing. A type of writing for—

Oh.

Oh. Well, okay. He feels like he's swallowing a brick and the guilt shows on his face, not like this man can see it.

"Nevermind, I know what it is." Shit. "Sorry, uh. If you give me a brief idea about what kind of bread you like, maybe I can find it on the shelf?"

Just when Snake kind of gave up all hope of this man having any intelligence at all, a little light bulb turned on. Apparently. Snake's sigh managed to convey so many words about Apollo without voicing them. However, his actual words were: "I'm partial to asiago cheese. If that doesn't exist in London, I'll be a tad put off." Snake's voice, like the rest of him, was refined, although it betrayed a flat American accent.

Two hundred years have refined a trait in Henry that he was doomed to have since birth: he is a snob. While he tries to be open-minded about other people and their situations, Doctor Morgan is thoroughly uptight about food. His son is a culinary genius -- and he will defend that to anyone who disagrees -- and he's learned to be very picky over the years. After all, there was no point in being alive forever if one didn't at least try and take care of what was being put in the body.

"That brand? Really?"

He can recognise the other teacher from Redbright easily. He might have gone away from teaching, but he's still part of their Outreach program. Just also (and far more happily) settling in with his new position within Scotland Yard... technically as an inside agent for the Night Council. Someone officially in charge of making sure secrecy is kept even in the morgues.

"I insist you at least try this one," he says, pulling a small bag off the shelf. "It tastes better and is far more efficient."

Apollo looks up when he hears that voice, recognition on his face instantly. It's been a long time since he's seen Dr. Morgan in person ever since he left the Institute, and the feeling of intimidation never really left.

"Dr. Morgan," Apollo greets, looking down at the coffee bag and flipping it over to the back. What a British-looking package.

"Better? As in... more bitter?" He had to guess.

When the bell chimes this time, it announces the arrival of a certain teenage employee. He’s returned from a quick run to the nearest convenience store, with a plastic bag of goodies in tow. And a surgical face mask strapped on. No way is he going to chance getting sick.

“Apolloooooo! You still dying in there, bud?”

Without waiting for an answer, he slides into the lawyer’s personal office. The sight is truly pathetic.

There Apollo lays, bundled under a blanket, and scowling at the ceiling. At least agreeing to pay Stiles a little more for nursing was paying off, and he wasn't being a total brat about it.

Who said money didn't buy happiness?

"Slowly, but surely. You're not in my will by the way." Apollo's sarcasm meter is off by this point. "... Did you buy that mask?" Apollo feels like he shouldn't be offended, but he is just a bit. Not much can be helped.

"You bought the specific soup I asked for?"

Stiles reminds himself to take a picture of Apollo when the man is unconscious. This is too great an image to not upload to Instagram. The people need to see it. For now, however, he puts aside his nefarious schemes and roots around in the bag.

"As long as Sasuke doesn't inherit the business and management, I really don't care. Also, yes and yes to both questions."

The soap is offered to Apollo, and then Stiles sets down a few other items near the futon: cough medicine, painkillers, a box of tissues, throat lozenges...a roll of smarties candy...

Apollo tries to imagine Sasuke in the legal field but stops immediately.

He makes a grab for the cough medicine as soon as it hits the floor and pops it open. He kind of feels bad to pile more work onto Stiles and Sasuke on top of it, but at the same time, they probably need more work to keep from fighting with each other.

"Oh, uh. Lunch is on me later. As a thanks for all this." Not like anyone would complain. ... And why the candy.

"Smarties?"

Even though his boss is sick, Stiles isn't about to turn down free food. Brightening, he moves forward and forcefully tucks Apollo in. There, there. See what a great employee he is? Maybe he deserves a raise too.

"Oh! No. Those are for me."

And Stiles quickly snatches them back up. After a moment, he pauses.

"...Well, as long as you don't tell Sasuke...I can share with you."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( open ) bad news like a suckerpunch

A

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

LMAO I MEANT COFFEE MACHINE BUT ROLLS WITH IT

COOKIE MACHINES FOREVER

[ B ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

a.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

B.

no subject

no subject

no subject

Oh man, he's hysterical. XD

he's dumb

Snake concurs

B

no subject

A

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject