connor walsh. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iustitiae) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-03-07 08:49 pm
iustitiae) wrote in undergrounds2016-03-07 08:49 pm
[open] bright as the day fresh as the moon and stale as the hay
i - @ the supermarket
at your favorite tesco (but probably in city of london or enfield), at any time during the month
[look, everyone's gotta shop for groceries. connor's lists have gotten undeniably weirder in the last few months, offering to pick up things for his witch friends ("friends" - friend, in the singular, that's soeki) while here's there. most of this stuff honestly feels like a joke (candles and sage and he's honestly wondering if they're going for eye of newt and toe of frog next), but connor's a good friend and if he's going to be at tesco anyway he can pick up stuff for his buddy.
along with, you know, the usual - good looking produce, the atlantic, condoms, new lightbulb for the broken fixture, cold cereal, pasta, eggs. if you need help reaching something on a shelf, just want random commentary on your life choices, or happen to recognize connor from somewhere (his tinder account? maybe you already know him? the possibilities are endless) this prompt is for you.]
ii - @ the courthouse
city of london, towards the end of the business day.
Shit --
[this is connor, running through a crowd like an asshole, trying not to bump into anyone (but offering "sorry!" if he does, i mean he's not devoid of manners). he's carrying a briefcase with a brief from his boss/professor in it, one that the deadline is approaching, in about thirty minutes, says a quick look at his watch. according to her it was their fault the brief was running so late and despite the wonderful world of the internet, this particular magistrate believed in hard copies, thank you so they'd drawn straws and connor had lost. "good luck with rush hour foot traffic!" yeah, thanks.
he manages to compose himself enough that when he hands the papers off to the clerk (with five minutes to spare!) he doesn't look like a total wreck. mission thusly accomplished has a minute to take a break, relived that he managed to not screw this up and get in her bad graces.
another day, another crisis, right?]
iii - wildcard
[you probably know how this one works! if you want a specific prompt by me let me know that, too.]
at your favorite tesco (but probably in city of london or enfield), at any time during the month
[look, everyone's gotta shop for groceries. connor's lists have gotten undeniably weirder in the last few months, offering to pick up things for his witch friends ("friends" - friend, in the singular, that's soeki) while here's there. most of this stuff honestly feels like a joke (candles and sage and he's honestly wondering if they're going for eye of newt and toe of frog next), but connor's a good friend and if he's going to be at tesco anyway he can pick up stuff for his buddy.
along with, you know, the usual - good looking produce, the atlantic, condoms, new lightbulb for the broken fixture, cold cereal, pasta, eggs. if you need help reaching something on a shelf, just want random commentary on your life choices, or happen to recognize connor from somewhere (his tinder account? maybe you already know him? the possibilities are endless) this prompt is for you.]
ii - @ the courthouse
city of london, towards the end of the business day.
Shit --
[this is connor, running through a crowd like an asshole, trying not to bump into anyone (but offering "sorry!" if he does, i mean he's not devoid of manners). he's carrying a briefcase with a brief from his boss/professor in it, one that the deadline is approaching, in about thirty minutes, says a quick look at his watch. according to her it was their fault the brief was running so late and despite the wonderful world of the internet, this particular magistrate believed in hard copies, thank you so they'd drawn straws and connor had lost. "good luck with rush hour foot traffic!" yeah, thanks.
he manages to compose himself enough that when he hands the papers off to the clerk (with five minutes to spare!) he doesn't look like a total wreck. mission thusly accomplished has a minute to take a break, relived that he managed to not screw this up and get in her bad graces.
another day, another crisis, right?]
iii - wildcard
[you probably know how this one works! if you want a specific prompt by me let me know that, too.]
no subject
"Sorry. Long night."
[Okay, he's apologized. Twice. Now can he get his first meal in eighteen hours?]
no subject
[here he'll step out of the way and everything. you buy one of those sandwiches, simon.]
no subject
[Lunchtime. Too bad that in the time it takes for Simon to grab a coffee, choose between cheese and roast beef, and automatically check Facebook when he actually pulled out his phone to answer a text is all the time takes for the store's credit card system to go offline. He's stuck in the checkout queue, which moves at a snail's pace as the poor, overworked clerk and his manager try to figure out how to ring people up manually.
Simon's angry muttering is mostly self-directed, but he does exchange an eloquent eyebrow with the person nearest him. Who happens to be the same man he ran into headlong not five minutes ago. Awkward.]
Fucking typical. Always happens when you have somewhere to be, doesn't it?
no subject
How much was it?
[said in the most put out tone ever, but here he is, helping.]
no subject
He follows the other man's lead and pulls out his own (pathetically small) wad of cash.]
Look--I'm really sorry but I've got to go. May I please pay for this?
no subject
[preferably him, since simon's cash pile doesn't look like a lot.]